“Dad, I watch Disney every day. I think I know what I’m talking about.”
I agree to disagree with my almost eight-year-old child. It’s the only way out of arguments. That’s what the articles all say. Those articles are freaking stupid. No wonder Brody made fun of me for reading them. What do they know?
“Okay then, my Disney princess. Your chariot has arrived, and your teacher is waiting. I will see you after school, pumpkin.”
“Princess,” she says, correcting me.
“Princess, Parker. I love you.”
“Love you, Dad. Have a magical day!”
Parker is becoming Abby more and more each day. It’s incredible to see Abby’s upbeat, happy, personality run through Parker’sDNA.
As Parker’s drop-off attendant is helping her out of the truck, my phone buzzes with a message from Melody.
The Girl of my Dreams:I won’t be at the shop for a bit. Car trouble.
I thumb in a message quickly before I have to pull away. “Bye, Park!” I shout again for good measure.
Me:I’m dropping Parker off at school now. Do you need a lift?
The Girl of my Dreams:I need to get the truck towed. It won’t start.
I can’t say I’m surprised. She’s been driving Harold’s truck since she got home, and that man refused to trade that hunk of metal in because of the sentimental value it held. Granted, the truck has held up well since he maintained it, but it will continue to need that kind of maintenance if she wants to keep using it.
I find it ironic that Parker was comparing Melody to a Disney princess stuck in a tower waiting for her prince to rescue her when I get a text message like this. I should help. I would be following Parker’s advice, which is crazy since she is only seven years old. What is wrong with me?
Me:Crawley is at the shop. He’ll be okay for a few. I’ll swing by with Jumper Cables.
A honk of a car horn pulls my thoughts back to the road in front of me. She’s honking because I haven’t pulled away from the curb yet, so I drive away from the looping line and pull off to the parking lot to finish the conversation.
The Girl of my Dreams:It’s okay, really. I can call a tow company.
Me:Or I can try to jump it, so you don’t have to call the tow company.
The Girl of my Dreams:I’m not a damsel in distress.
Parker thinks you are …
Me:I know, but it’s okay to be a damsel with a broken truck. Be there soon.
With the morning town traffic, it takes me longer than I’d like to get to Melody’s house. I see the truck in the driveway with the hood up, and the front door open with the storm door blocking the cold air from getting inside. I sent her a quick text to let her know I’m here.
Me: I’m outside.
After five minutes and no response, I knock on the door since she must not have her phone with her. I wait a couple more minutes in front of her door, and there is no answer, so I ring the bell, and while it doesn’t seem to be too loud, there’s still no answer.
I open the storm door, find it unlocked, and call into the house, “Anyone home?”
No answer. What the hell is going on?
I walk down the main foyer, poking my head down the hall and into the TV room and dining room before finding my way into the kitchen where Melody is flat on her back on the floor with her eyes closed. Jesus. I drop to my knees, checking to see if she’s breathing but I notice a semi-smile on her face, and she’s doing that cute girl snore that I will not mention after she wakes up.
“Hey, you left your front door open. Are you okay?” I ask loud enough to wake her, but not so loud to startle her into having a heart attack.
Her eyes flash open, and she sits up, brushing her hair out of her face. “Oh my God, I fell asleep.”
She’s adorable even when she’s a mess. I tilt my head to the side. “On the kitchen floor?”
