“She said she’s scouting out a good spot for our garden.”
Today my daughter is wearing oversized black pants with large white polka dots, and a matching white shirt that has a nose and long whiskers. She’s adorable, and her personality shines through. I love it.
“A garden? That sounds fun. What made you think of making a garden?”
“Ruby said we can grow beets and broccoli and Chinese food.”
“Is that so?” I start to laugh. “I didn’t know Chinese food grew in gardens.”
She’s struggling with a blanket twice as big as she is, and I walk to where she’s setting up shop in the middle of my office. I take the quilt and spread it over the floor.
“I like having a picnic with you. What’s in the basket?”
My daughter sits on the quilt and takes out two plastic containers. “I helped make these.” She hands me a green tortilla wrap filled with what looks like tuna salad. “I’m supposed to tell you it’s organic tuna…” Her little face scrunches as if she’s trying to remember her lines. “E-C-A-B and a little salt and pepper.”
I touch her nose. “You mean E-V-O-O?”
Her eyes roll around and she drops her head backwards. “I said it was too hard to remember.”
“You did a great job.” I inspect our very healthy lunch, complete with organic milk in glasses with plastic lids and metal straws. Organic, environmental… Ruby’s a fast learner. I don’t see anything Eleanor could complain about.
Lillie dives in, taking a big bite of wrap. We also have small containers of cucumber slices, without the ranch dressing. I open the lid on her cup and slide the straw inside before handing it to her.
“Ruby can’t drink milk.” My daughter takes a long swig. “She’s galactically int…” A worried expression crosses her face.
I cover my mouth with a napkin and swallow my laugh. “Lactose intolerant.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not what she said.”
“Oh, it’s not?” I grin at how serious and grown up she’s acting.
We’re sitting cross-legged across from each other, and the warmth in my chest as I watch my little girl happily nibbling a cucumber slice is undeniable. Ruby was right about one thing. My father did not stop what he was doing to have lunch with me ever. Although, seeing this little cherub with her golden curls arranged in two ponytails, maybe he would’ve stopped. Who could resist Lillie? …or Ruby for that matter.
“How’d it go today at school?” I give her a playful frown. “No more eating dirt, I hope.”
Her eyes remain fixed on her food, but she shakes her head. “I don’t want to get a worm in my tummy.”
“Well, I don’t want you to get sick.” I’m not sure about the worm part.
Her head cocks to the side, and her brow furrows. “If we plant our garden in the dirt and then we eat the broccoli, how come we don’t get worms that way?”
“We wash it first.” The mechanics of drainage and modern waste disposal are way too complicated to get into over a picnic lunch with my four-year-old.
She thinks a minute then nods slowly, seeming okay with that answer. We munch a few minutes longer, and I fe
el her watching me. I look over, and she’s giving me a cute little grin.
“What?”
“I have a very serious question to ask you, Daddy.” She finishes her last piece of wrap, and I grab a napkin to wipe her hands.
“Okay…” I have no idea what’s coming.
“I want to get a puppy.” She sits for a second, watching me with that smile firmly in place.
“Is that so?” Looking around, I try to imagine what having a dog in the house would be like. I’m not entirely opposed to the idea. “Have you talked to Ruby about it?” Don’t know why that matters…
“Ruby says I have to be very responsible to have a pet. She says I have to ask you.” My daughter crawls across the blanket and puts her hand on my leg. “Can I have a puppy, Daddy?”