I pour the dustpan into the trash and get the excess off the floor. I’ve learned as a parent there is a fine line between comfort and learning lessons.
It’s been a rough couple of days, but this strikes me as a lesson moment. Things happen; accidents are called accidents for a reason, and she needs to learn that.
Hanging the broom and dustpan up, I grab the vacuum to get the rest, and she’s standing in the corner watching me. She’s managed to stop crying, but her little chest is still trying to catch her breath.
After I vacuum the rest, we go to her room to get some fresh, non-flour covered socks. She sits on the bed, and I find her favorite pink pair and pull them on her feet.
Her head sags, and she holds her hands in her lap.
“Naomi.”
She won’t look up, and I kneel down, tipping her chin up so she can look me in the eye.
“It’s okay, princess, it was an accident, and accidents happen.”
She nods, and then it hits me. This happened with Rebekah.
“Naomi, I want you to understand I’m not mad at you. You did nothing wrong.”
“You’re not?” she asks.
I hug my little girl and kiss her on the head. “No, my sweet girl.”
She doesn’t answer and reaches for the ends of my hair. “I love you, Naomi Hayes.”
She takes a stuttered breath. “I love you too, Daddy.”
Pulling back, she stares up at me with glittering eyes. “How about we watch a movie tonight? I’ll make popcorn.”
Naomi perks up at that. “Ratatouille?” she asks.
Why she loves a movie about a rat cooking in a kitchen, I’ll never understand. “Sure, princess, sounds good. Get your PJs on and meet me in the living room.”
Naomi hops off her bed and runs to her dresser.
I start the popcorn on the stove and lean against the counter, waiting for it to heat. Life is full of bumps in the road, but I feel like I put the bump in our road in the form of Rebekah, by letting her into Naomi’s life. She wasn’t ready, and neither was Naomi, and that falls on me.
***
I had hope for today, but it started with Naomi waking up on the wrong side of the bed. She didn’t want to get up at all, and I hadn’t made arrangements for her earlier. She couldn’t find her favorite boots. She didn’t want to eat her snack before we left, and she refused to brush her teeth or brush her hair — great start.
When I finished up for the day, I head back to the main house to find Naomi with her nose in the corner and Aunt Dixie looking at me with an exasperated look on her face.
“Naomi, that nose stays in the corner until I say so, understand?” Aunt Dixie says from the kitchen.
“Yes,” she mumbles.
Aunt Dixie is leaning against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed, and she looks spent.
The guilt eats at me, and my chest twinges.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but she didn’t listen at all. She barely ate. She’s been a pistol today.”
I sigh and drop into a chair.
“Little girls have lousy days, sometimes weeks. I know this, but this is not like her, Cooper.”
I drag a hand across my face.
