with pink horizontal stripes. It has a pink ruffle along the top and bottom. The sleeves are just an extension of the ruffle. It’s short. It also has no definition. It hangs straight down from the ruffle. Which means it’s swaying across her nipples all the time.
The upside is that she’s squirming. The downside is that I can’t see the definition of her nipples. Tomorrow I’m going to choose something more fitted.
When I watch her stuff two pieces of apple into her mouth at once, I reach over and set my hand on her wrist. “Slow down,” I remind her. “Chew your food. Smaller bites.”
“Yes, Sir,” she murmurs after she swallows. She picks up just one chunk of apple next and brings it slowly to her mouth between her finger and her thumb.
“Good girl.”
She finishes before me and sits semi-patiently. She plays with the hem of her dress, and I gather she has something to say. “Talk to me, sweetie. What’s on your mind?”
She lifts her gaze and bites her bottom lip before finally opening her mouth. “Can I call you Daddy?”
My chest seizes. My ears start ringing. I can’t move or breathe. And I have to shake myself out of it before I freak her out with my inability to respond. No sweeter words have ever been spoken to me.
I reach over and cup her face. “That would make me very happy, sweet girl.” I’m in so much trouble. How will I ever let her go?
She beams.
I somehow manage to finish my lunch even though she’s just given me the best gift a Daddy can ask for, and then I take my time cleaning up to prolong her excitement. Finally, I lift her to the floor and take her by the hand, leading her to the table.
I hand her the package. I’m seriously almost as excited as she is because I can’t wait to see her expression when she opens it.
She tries to get the end to rip, but fails and hands it back to me. “You open it, Daddy,” she exclaims, bouncing on her feet.
My chest gets all tight and warm again. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that word coming from her lips. She’s slaying me. But I pull the top of the package open and then hand it back to her so she can be the one to reach in and pull out the contents.
She’s already smiling as she sticks her hand in and grabs the top of the box. She eases it out and then holds it up so she can see the front. “Oh. My. God,” she whispers, and then she just stands there, not moving an inch. She’s staring at the doll through the clear plastic on the front of the box.
Seconds tick by, and I start to worry. I’m afraid she doesn’t like it, that it’s not good enough. When I bend down to see her face, I realize she’s silently crying. I pull out a chair, sit, and pull her between my legs. “Sweet girl…” I hug her against my chest. This wasn’t the reaction I expected at all. She’s overwhelmed and emotional. I hope to God these are happy tears.
“I never had my own doll,” she whispers.
I can’t stand the distance, so I lift her and set her on my thigh between my legs and hug her tighter to my side. I kiss the top of her head. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, sweetie.” I rub her thigh.
She’s still holding the doll in front of her, staring at it. “I love her so much,” she whispers. She lifts her tear-streaked face to me. “What is her name?”
I smile. “I don’t know, sweetie. You’ll have to name her.”
She turns her gaze back to the doll. “Emily. Yes. Emily.”
I reach for the box. “Looks like Emily is in there tight. Would you like me to get her out of the box?”
“Yes, please.”
I open the top, pull her out, and then determine that the doll is attached to a piece of cardboard at her back with about six twist ties. It takes me a few minutes to disconnect her. All the while I’m cursing the designer of this packaging and wondering how on earth an actual kid would react to this delay.
Britney is a grown woman and she’s bouncing on my leg.
When I finally hand her the doll, Britney brings her to her chest, hugs her close, and rocks back and forth. “I just love her. Thank you, Daddy.”