Gracie turns her attention to my oldest daughter and her expression softens to a point that I swear Gracie’s whole focus is on that conversation and that conversation only. "It's nice tomeet you, Livy. I hope you don't mind me eating dinner with you tonight."
Livy shakes her head but doesn't say anything. Of course her younger sister is more than happy to answer for her.
"She's happy you're here, right, sissy?" Zoey twirls around and faces her wide-eyed sister who slowly nods her head yes. "Livy thinks you won't like her. We talked about it upstairs," my daughter tells Gracie matter-of-factly.
Livy's eyes grow exponentially bigger at Zoey's admission, and I mentally slap my forehead. I should've seen this coming.
"Zoey . . ." I sigh, but Gracie proves she knows exactly how to handle a very honest child, and I’m stuck shocked by her response.
"Then I guess dinner is the perfect chance for us to talk and get to know each other. So I can prove I like her very much."
Livy gives the new nanny a shy smile and my heart picks up in rhythm. If I don't get things moving along, I'm going to end up saying something to Gracie I don't think either of us is ready for.
"Livy, Zoey, can you start setting the table? Dinner is almost ready."
"Sure, Daddy." Zoey vibrates with energy. "Can Gracie help us?"
"Gracie’s our guest and guests don’t have to help, but of course she can if she wants to. It's completely up to her."
I leave them to it, heading back to the stove to mix the stir-fry. I push the food around in the wok, trying not to make it obvious that I'm eavesdropping on the conversation between my girls and Gracie. For someone who claims not to know a thing about kids, Gracie is holding her own quite well. I'm also learning quite a lot about my little nanny.
Favorite color: green.
Favorite animal: tiger.
Favorite food: pizza.
I mean, who doesn't love pizza. It's practically a staple in our house when I'm not in the mood to cook.
Favorite dessert: lemon lush.
I've never even heard of that, but I'll definitely be looking it up.
The questions continue as I finish dinner and begin to plate it. They only stop after everyone is seated around the table and actively eating.
"Livy, how was school today?" I try to bring some normalcy to the meal by asking the same question I do every day while we eat.
"I had a math test."
I drop my fork on my plate and place my palm against my forehead. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I completely forgot that was today. How do you think you did?"
Livy likes to review in the mornings before she goes to school when she has a test. Most of the time, I remember. And when I don't, she reminds me. It's not like her to forget.
My oldest daughter shrugs. "It was easy. Three-digit-by-three-digit addition. I'm pretty sure I got a hundred."
"That's awesome, and I'm so sorry I forgot. But why didn't you remind me? I would've made sure we had time this morning to go over a problem or two."
Livy shrugs again but doesn't look me in the eye when she responds. "You had a lot to do today, and I already knew how to do it."
I look over at Gracie, who is staring at Livy with a frown on her face. I'm pretty sure she's thinking the same thing I am. The only thing different about today is that Gracie is having dinner with us. The kids knew it was happening, but I didn't think I made that big of a deal about it. Not to the point where they would think nothing else mattered.
"I'm never too busy to help you study," I remind my daughter and myself. The hope on her face kills me because it shouldn’t have to be there. It's my responsibility to keep track of those things, and I vow to do better going forward.
The rest of dinner is pretty normal. Zoey does most of the talking while Everly makes a mess. I never remember Livy or Zoey being this messy when they were toddlers, but I guess it's true what they say about the third child—They really don't give a fuck.
"Why don't you girls go pick a movie for us to watch tonight?" I say as I start to clear the table.
Gracie eagerly jumps up. "I can clean up while you help them. It's only fair since you made dinner."
