“Chocolate makes my soul sing,” Belle chimes, and the smile on her face is downright adorable. Yep, this kid is my new best friend, even if she doesn’t want to be. I’ll win her over. It’s a goal I’m determined to achieve.
We make our way to the display case where Ken-man chooses his ever predictable strawberry shortcake cupcake. Belle is completely overwhelmed by the choices; her eyes gleam with joy as she bites her lip. Crap, I didn’t think to ask Madden if she has any allergies, and I honestly don’t think she’d really know. Not at five, right? But I know for a fact that chocolate cupcakes are her favorite; she told me this herself the first time I met her. “Belle, do you know what cupcake you’d like?”
“How do I choose, Healthy Lady? They all look so yummy!” Her voice shrieks with excitement.
“Well, you said chocolate was your favorite, so why not have a tried and true classic,” I suggest. A shameful admission of guilt here, but I’ve literally tried every flavor of cupcake Mabel offers, and the chocolate ganache devil’s food cupcake is my absolute favorite. That cupcake is better than sex … considering I haven’t had sex in an embarrassing length of time, I guess really isn’t saying much, right?
Her smile is blinding as she gives me two thumbs up and nods. I order our cupcakes and pull three milk cartons from the cooler—almond milk for me because the calories in this cupcake are more than I need, but worth every bite, then I follow Ken-man over to our favorite booth. Belle slides in next to me, and she rubs her hands before clapping them and bouncing on her little rump. She grits her teeth and smiles the most blinding smile I’ve ever seen, all over a damn cupcake. But I don’t shame her because I feel the same way every time I treat myself to one of Mabel’s famous cupcakes.
By the time Ken-man has half of his cupcake devoured, a mixture of strawberry crumbs, frosting, and milk coating his lips and cheeks, Belle has only—very graciously, I might add—pulled the liner from her cupcake. She examines it, the weight obviously heavy in her small hand because Mabel’s cupcakes are behemoth in comparison to your average grocery store bakery cupcakes. She sniffs the frosting then the cake, and I swear her eyes nearly roll back in her head from the intoxicating scent. I’m with ya, girlfriend.
I eagerly remove the liner from my cupcake and dig in, and the moan that escapes my mouth is probably too vulgar for a public setting. I have a very strict and dedicated diet and workout routine, but I allow myself one treat each week. I always have a calorie allowance, and I’ve learned the hard way that if your diet is too strict, you’ll only make yourself miserable before you finally relapse and gain ten pounds. Been there, done that, and I ain’t goin’ back. Yes, I’m a self-reformed chubster, which is why I relate to Madden so easily.
I look down at his daughter, who might I add is his mini-me in female form with dark brown curls, bright green eyes, and freckles sprinkled all over her alabaster cheeks, which are now smeared with chocolate ganache.
Unlike Ken-man whose cupcake and milk have been deposited into his small tummy, Belle slowly savors every bite she takes until the final crumb. She takes a healthy drink of milk and messily swipes at her mouth with a napkin before leaning back against the booth and patting her belly.
“My daddy is gonna be so mad that I had a cupcake when he can’t have any, Healthy Lady. And what’s worse is he swears Publix has the best cupcakes, but we’s never had cupcakes from here before. Do you think my daddy can have a Mabel’s cupcake soon?”
How do you not laugh at her cuteness, and she’s not shy in the least! I wink at Belle and motion for the kids as I climb out of the booth. I clean up their mess and drop the milk cartons, napkins, and liners in the trash and wave goodbye to Mabel on my way out the door.
In the Jeep, I’ve got the kids safely buckled in and am plugging in the address to Madden’s mom’s before I pull away from the square. Traffic is hectic this time of year as tourist season is still underway. I crank up the stereo to fill the air and hit Highway 80 back to the island. I hear snickering under the bass of the music and look back in the rearview mirror to find Kenny and Belle huddled together laughing as they shove something red into their mouths.
First of all, Kenny knows my rule about eating in the Jeep. Yes, I’m a neat freak. Secondly, what are they eating, and where the hell did it come from?
“Hey, Ken-man, what’cha eatin’?”
Kenny swallows the food down quickly and does something he’s never done before. He lies to me. “I-I wasn’t eating anything, Auntie.” Well, that is shocking. But he’s just a kid, and they go through these phases, so I dismiss his omission of guilt.
“Really? I could have sworn I saw you and Belle both stick something red in your mouth, and you looked like you were swallowing when I asked what you were eating. You’re not telling Auntie a fib, are you?”
“I gave him a Fruit Roll-Up, Healthy Lady.”
“Oh, Belle!” Kenny groans and smacks his palm over his face.
“What? It’s just ca— Oooooooh. Was we not supposed to eat in your Jeep, Healthy Lady? ’Cause I didn’t know that.”
Ugh, Kenny is cute all on his own, and when you add the rotten sass that is Belle to the equation, well, it makes me gullible to their deceit. Sure, Belle didn’t know she wasn’t allowed to eat in my Jeep, but she just ate a ginormous cupcake. Where does she put all this sugar, and how is she not climbing the walls? Shit, I might wanna punch the gas and get her sassy rump home before the sugar overdose kicks in.
“It’s okay, Belle. But I’d rather you guys not eat in the Jeep because you may drop something in the floorboard or get something as sticky as Fruit Roll-Ups stuck to the seats.”
“I’m sorry, Healthy Lady.”
“Yeah, Auntie. We’re sorry.”
“It’s okay, guys. I don’t even know how either of you could handle another bite of sugar after eating those cupcakes. They were bigger than your heads!”
“Well, Fruit Roll-Ups are my favorite, after cupcakes of course. And since Daddy isn’t letting me have lots of snacks these days, but Grammy gave me a stash to hide in my backpack.” Belle shrugs, like this is no big deal at all. And it’s really not, nor is it any of my business. “Besides … it’s kinda your fault that Daddy won’t let me have snacks. So really, this is all your fault, right?”
Wait … am I being schooled by a preschooler?
“Well, no—” I begin, but Belle cuts me off.
“So let’s make a deal. I won’t tell my daddy you fed me a cupcake instead of good food, if you don’t tell my daddy about my secret stash. Got it?” Not only am I being schooled by a preschooler, I’m also being blackmailed. By a five-year-old. And I have no argument for her whatsoever. So I do what anyone in my position would do … being manipulated by preschoolers, and all.
“Oh, sass. I’ll do you one better than that.” I wink at her in the rearview mirror. “I had so much fun with you and Ken-man today, I’m gonna tell your daddy that I want to pick you up from Miss Laney’s at least once a week to take you for a treat. And of course, that treat will stay between you and me.”
Her chubby little thumbs jar upward and she winks back at me, a triumphant smirk on her freckle face. “Deal,” she says solemnly, and I laugh to myself knowing I’ve not only made a new friend in this precious little girl, but I’m also screwed because in no time she’ll have me wrapped around her little finger just like Ken-man has.