“No. We’re just running a little behind.”
Isabelle entered the room then, her hair tousled around her face, her feet still bare. She had donned her red and white shirt and navy pants, but she carried her socks and shoes in her hands. “I need a little help.”
She was such a bright, articulate child that Nathan tended to forget at times how young she was. She was still little more than a baby, really, and her tiny fingers hadn’t quite caught up with her clever mind.
He picked her up and set her into a chair, kneeling in front of her. “Okay, Cinderella, let’s see if these slippers fit.”
Isabelle giggled. “They aren’t slippers. They’re sneakers.”
“That’s okay, honey. He isn’t really Prince Charming, either,” Caitlin murmured.
Nathan gave her a look over his shoulder. “No comments from the wicked witch, please.”
Isabelle laughed again. “There wasn’t a wicked witch in Cinderella, Nate. It was a wicked stepmother.”
“Oh.” He kept his eyes on the tiny foot he was stuffing into a white cotton sock, and decided not to pursue that particular story line. “Well, what story was the wicked witch in?”
“Sleeping Beauty. And Snow White. And the Wizard of Oz. But not Cinderella.”
He managed to work her foot into a sneaker. “Wow. That was one busy witch.”
“They weren’t all the same witch, Nate. They were different witches.”
“Oh. I see I’m going to have to brush up on my fairy tales.”
“I suppose Nathan told you our plans for this morning?” Caitlin asked Isabelle.
The child nodded. “We’re going shopping for a room.”
That made Caitlin smile. “Not a whole room, exactly. Just the things we need to make your room prettier. Is it okay with you if I take you?”
“Do you like purple?”
“I love purple,” Caitlin assured her.
Isabelle dimpled and wiggled her now-shod feet. “Then it’s okay.”
Caitlin reached down to brush a stray lock of hair from Isabelle’s face. “Maybe we should brush your hair first? Do you have a barrette or a ponytail holder we can use to hold it back?”
“I’ll be right back.” Isabelle turned and ran toward her bedroom.
“She seems to have two speeds,” Nathan commented. “Very fast and very slow. She’s been in slow speed all morning, which is why her hair isn’t done.”
Caitlin eyed him quizzically. “You were going to do her hair?”
“I’ve got to learn how,” he said with a shrug. “I figure it can’t be too hard to learn how to do a basic ponytail or braid or something.”
She paused a moment, then asked, “Have you called your mother yet to tell her you want to talk to her?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d call as soon as you leave. She’ll be home. She’s always home on Saturday mornings. That’s when she does her housework.”
“You can’t be looking forward to this.”
Major understatement. He decided to let it pass.
Isabelle returned clutching a hairbrush and a barrette with a red fabric bow attached. Her stuffed white owl was tucked beneath her arm. “Will this bow work? And can Hedwig come with us?”
Caitlin replied, “The bow is just right. And is Hedwig your owl’s name?”