“Run to the base!” Will shouts. “To the base!”
Whitney ignores him. She almost passes Victoria, but then she turns, tags Victoria and says, “Tag! You’re it!”
Victoria sets off to tag another player and now all the players are leaving bases running away from Victoria in a series of zigzags around the outfield.
I reach into my shirt and blow my whistle. The girls stop in place.
“Everyone back to your positions!” I shout.
Mia’s staring straight at me. She gives a full eye roll. I smile warmly. I can’t seem to help myself. She has her mother’s fire. Besides, she’s not wrong.
“Okay,” Will says. “What does it mean when I say, tag the runner?”
We demonstrate. I run between the bases and Will tags me. Then Will runs and I tag him. We get the girls back into position. They play two innings and then we end practice with a huddle.
“On three,” I say as usual. “One … two … three …” and this time we all shout, “Go Sparkly Llamacorns!”
I look across the huddle at Mia and wonder how long Hallie and I have before our volcanoes erupt.
Chapter 10
Hallie
Mothers are the people who love us for no good reason.
And those of us who are mothers know it's the most exquisite love of all.
~ Maggie Gallagher
“Mommy!” Mia shouts from upstairs.
“What are you doing up there, sweetheart? We’re going to be late!” I shout back.
Mia’s feet thump down the old wooden stairs. “Why do you get a vacation and we don’t?”
She emerges into the hallway still wearing her pajamas and carrying Mister Bear, the stuffed animal she’s had since she was one. He’s wearing a soft ball cap we bought for him at one of those build-your-own toy places.
It’s hard for a seven-year-old to wrap her brain around the irregularity of a firefighter’s schedule. I can’t blame her. It’s hard for me to wrap my brain around it too, if I’m being honest. But we’re getting there.
“I get four days off sometimes,” I explain. “It’s a part of my job because we work day and night when we’re on shift.”
“I don’t want to go to school!” She practically whines.
It’s not like Mia to be so moody. She seems to love her new school. Maybe she didn’t sleep well.
I deflect rather than addressing her complaint head on. We don’t have time for a battle of the wills this morning.
Henry Cavill comes bounding down the hall, practically bowling Mia over—the dog, not the actor. If the actor bounded down the hall, you could knock me over with a feather. And then I’d be rushing to get him out of the house before my mom saw him. Heaven only knows what she’d say.
Mia pats Henry on the head.
“Do you want to know something really fun and a little exciting?” I’m thinking on my feet here. Maybe I’ll take Mia somewhere after school—just the two of us.
“Yes!” Mia bounces on her toes.
“Get dressed. I’ll pop waffles in the toaster and make bacon. And then I’ll tell you on the way to school.”
“But, Mommyyyy,” she whines.
