I’m kidding. Kind of. I don’t even know what GMO stands for. Please forgive me, Mr. Ronald. I mean no harm against McDonald’s.
Also, Tatum won’t drink milk. I can’t blame her on that one though. I watched a documentary once on how it’s loaded with puss and blood. Sorry if you just gagged, but imagine my surprise when I watched it.
Anyway, it’s hard to get Tatum to eat anything. But spring rolls are her favorite. Watching her eat them?
Disturbing.
She starts by taking the rice wrapper off, digs out the shrimp, and tosses it to me, eats the lettuce, and then the rice wrapper. Ninety-nine percent of the time, she chokes on it because she has absolutely no gag reflex, and then cries.
Tonight isn’t any different.
AFTER DINNER, IT’S a battle to get Tatum to bed. Though I had Emmie come over, a screaming half-naked toddler takes two people to get in the tub.
I may have given birth to a seventy-year-old gypsy lady who loves Willie Nelson and calls herself Loretta (often in the third person), but she’s like any other toddler. As in, fucking insane about twenty minutes before bedtime.
You know in those Huggies commercials when the parents lay the sleeping baby down in the crib and everything is peaceful?
It’s a lie. At least in my experience. Legit, they drugged that baby.
When it’s time for Tatum to go to bed, she’s like a dehydrated drunk who can’t decide if they’re thirsty, tired, cranky, hungry, or maybe all of the above. I almost feel bad for Emmie having to deal with her, but it’s great birth control for girls her age. Believe me.
I close myself in my office to get started on the signs I need to finish. I’m twenty minutes into it, and Emmie’s on her third book in with Tatum and begging her to fall asleep. I can hear her on the baby monitor. “Please go to sleep.”
“I’m not tired though.”
“Just close your eyes and you will be.”
“If I close my eyes, I sleep. I don’t want to.”
“Loretta, please!”
When you want Tatum to do anything, refer to her as Loretta. It’s as if she appreciates the play along and does whatever you want. I try not to encourage it, but I don’t blame Emmie. Sometimes we have to resort to it.
I’m halfway through my second sign when I hear a car pull into the driveway. Lifting my eyes to my watch, I notice it’s already after ten, and Collin still isn’t home. Figures. He’s been working later and later these days. He hasn’t seen Tatum since Wednesday night when he came home just before I put her to bed. Looks like tonight is another no see Daddy day.
Headlights flash on the dark wall behind me and then click off, two doors closing behind the sound. That’s weird. Is someone with him?
Turning my head, I look out the window facing the driveway, only to see two figures approaching the front door.
“Hey,” Emmie says, coming down the stairs with her cell phone in hand. “Can I stay the night? My mom has book club, and my aunts are over. They’re so extra.”
I nod, my eyes on the driveway as I stand from my table. “What book are they reading?”
Emmie’s attention moves to the driveway as well, peeking around me. “I don’t know. Some book. Who’s that?”
“Not sure.” Standing, my heart pumps wildly in my chest, imagining someone broke into our gated community, shot the security guard, and chose my house out of a hundred to break into and murder me. Not likely, but my mind always goes there.
The knock at the door follows. Hesitantly, I look over at the camera to see two police officers standing at my door.
I swallow over the lump in my throat, knowing what this is. My hands shake, my breathing tense. “Who is it?”
“The police. I think.” I look over my shoulder at her, forcing humor into my tone. “Did you rob a bank before you came over here?”
Her eyes widen and she swallows hard. “What? No.”
“Where’s Tatum?”
She motions behind her. “Sleeping. Do you think it’s really the police? No cap, I’ve totes seen this on the news. Murderers dress up like police and get inside their house and chop our heads off.”
Not only do I not understand half of what she said, it’s crossed my mind already too, but I have to keep her calm. “It’s fine. I’ll ask for a badge. I won’t let them in.”