Lennie runs through the house toward the living room. “I’m ready!” she calls.
I kick off my shoes, hanging up my work backpack on the hook. “First, you need to put on your pajamas and help me make the popcorn,” I call back.
Her footsteps tumble down the hall, and I hear the telltale sounds of her door opening and closing. I head toward my own room, changing out of my dress shirt and into a pair of sweats and a Blue Ox tee. Lennie rushes into my room, a whirlwind of pink and purple.
She has on her favorite princess themed night gown, and her hair is pulled out of the neat braids my mom had put it in. “Daddy, can you fix my hair?”
“I can try,” I tell her. “Why did you take your braids out?”
She huffs. “It got stuck on my shirt when I was taking it off, and then I decided to take the other one out so it would match.”
I hold in my groan. I suck at doing her hair, and I don’t have it in me to ask her to cut it. She always talks about how much she loves her long hair, and for a kid her age, her hair is crazy long. It reminds me so much of her mom’s with how thick and dark it is.
“Go get your brush and ponytails while I start the popcorn, okay kiddo?”
She nods, rushing back to her room. I swear, this kid does everything at a run. Gramps was right, it’s exhausting.
I head into the kitchen, grabbing the microwave popcorn bowl from the cabinet. I get everything I need, throwing the kernels into the bowl, and popping it in the microwave.
“Got it!” Lennie calls as she runs past me in the kitchen.
The kernels start to pop as I grab the sprinkles from the spice cabinet. They don’t add any flavor to the popcorn, but it makes things extra fun for Lennie. I also decide to make us both Shirley Temples, complete with maraschino cherries and crazy straws. Lennie’s is in her bright pink Disney cup, while mine is in a normal glass. The microwave beeps, and I let it sit for a moment to finish popping before pulling the bowl out.
I separate Lennie’s into a smaller bowl, and throw a few shakes of sprinkles on it before setting it on a small tray to carry it all into the living room. Lennie is curled up on the couch under an array of blankets with the company of her stuffed animals from her room.
She shimmies with giddy excitement when she sees me coming, reaching for her bowl before I even set it down on the coffee table.
“Ah, ah,” I tsk. “We have to fix your hair, first.”
She sighs, dropping her arm. “Okay.” Lennie scoots off the couch and onto the floor, crossing her legs and wrapping her arm around her stuffed bear.
After arranging the bowls on the table so they don’t fall, I grab her hairbrush and ponytail holders. “What movie are we watching tonight?” I ask.
“Hmm.” She considers for a long moment. “The swan one.”
“Barbie Swan Lake?” I ask, though I know the answer. To be honest, that one might be my favorite of them, it’s at least tolerable compared to the newer movies.
“Yes!” she exclaims. I grab the remote and queue up the movie from a streaming service, and once the opening credits start, I get to work on her hair. The women in my life havebeen trying to teach me how to do her hair, and I can do a basic braid, but the strands never end up even, causing it to look blocky and weird. I have a love-hate relationship with doing her hair. I love the uninterrupted time I get with her. When we aren’t watching a movie, I’ll usually ask her about her day, or we will talk about school, her friends, or anything that comes to mind. It helps me stop and enjoy the time instead of always rushing to the next activity or work day.
Once her hair is done in two chunky braids that fall down her back, I sink into the couch cushions. “You’re done kiddo, now, I need some snuggles.”
Lennie snickers, reaching up to grab her popcorn bowl and climbing back onto the couch. I grab the bowl from her so it doesn’t spill everywhere while she settles, handing it back to her once she’s tucked into my side with her blankets covering her lap. I pass her the covered Shirley Temple, and she takes a long drink of it. Once she’s done with her snack, she snuggles herself into my side more, and starts playing with my shirt.
At the end, when the Prince and Odette get married, Lennie tilts her head up, looking at me with her chocolate brown eyes. “Daddy, when you get married, can I be in the wedding?”
My gut twists at her words as I reminisce on the earlier conversation with Fallon. Her words struck more than I’d care to admit. We’ve had more conversations like this as she’s gotten older, and every time, it gets harder. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get married,” I tell her. “But if I do, of course you can be in the wedding.”
“Can I wear a pretty dress, like I did for Auntie Josie and Uncle Andrew’s?”
“Absolutely.”
“Why don’t you know if you’ll get married? Everyone wants to get married.”
Whenever she brings up weddings, I fear the day she asks why I didn’t marry her mom. Truth be told, I would have. I would have done anything to get her to stay.
“I’m not sure, honey. Right now, I’m focused on taking care of you, and making sure you’re happy and healthy.”
“I am happy and healthy,” she counters. She narrows her eyes, sitting up a little. “I want you to be happy.”
