“Come here,” I say, squatting and extending my arms.
She collapses into me.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, lifting my hand to feel her forehead.
She nods into my neck. “I just want to stay on your vacation with you.”
“If it makes you happier, I’ll be unpacking boxes.”
She pulls her head back. “That’s not vacation!”
“Right?” I agree. “Let’s get you to school and we can do something fun after. Okay?”
“Okay.” She nods her head and leans back into me for one more hug.
Mia heads to her room and I get busy in the kitchen making a quick breakfast. Mom shows up a few momentslater, the dog at her heels. He’s massive—like a fourth human in this motley family, only the mop version.
Mom grabs a mug down from the cabinet. “There’s been a change in the baseball practice schedule. There’s an email and a text. Practice is today after school instead of tomorrow.”
“Seriously?” I ask. “How does the coach expect us to comply with such last-minute notice? What if this had been a day I was at work?”
Mom smiles, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the carafe and walking to the fridge for creamer.
“That’s why you have me, dear. It truly was a genius move, moving in with you. Solved all the problems.”
I take a deep breath, pull the bacon out of the pan and set it on the paper-towel-lined plate. Mom snags a piece and hums her appreciation.
“Mmmm. That’s good bacon.”
“It’s from a local farm,” I tell her. “Our captain is engaged to the farmer’s daughter.”
“That’s one way to get your bacon,” Mom teases, wagging her brows.
I shake my head at my mom and laugh softly. Then I set out plates around the island and plop the bottle of syrup in the middle.
Mia shows up wearing leotards with multi-hued pink stripes, a purple corduroy mini-skirt and a red shirt with a hedgehog flexing fake muscles that says,I’m Awesome!I exchange a look with Mom that says,Pick your hills, this outfit isn’t one we’re dying on today.
While Mom and Mia dig into breakfast, I pull up the baseball team email on my phone.
Then I pour myself a protein drink while softly muttering under my breath about coaches who think they can change schedules without talking to parents. I’m not mad. I’m just inconvenienced. And life is already asking a lot of me rightnow with motherhood, work, moving in, my mother, the dog …
Mom notices my under-the-breath grumbling. “If you could see the man, you wouldn’t be so upset.”
“What?” I ask, hoping she’ll drop the subject of the baseball coach in front of Mia.
She doesn’t. “I’m just saying, he definitely takes care of himself. I think he’s single too.”
Heat tinges my ears.
“Mom!”
I make bug eyes in Mia’s direction. She seems engrossed in her waffle, but still.
“He’s not for me, dear,” Mom continues. “I draw the line at a ten year age gap. Unless it’s Henry Cavill, of course.”
The dog hears his name and stands from the spot where he was impersonating an oversized, chunky floor mat. He walks to Mom and she breaks off a piece of bacon and feeds it to him—straight from the counter.
“Mom!”
