I tell her, looking at the clock. I made arrangements with the foster family for us to come over at six for Paisley to meet Buckley.
“If you’d like, I can help you,” Lindsay offers as she moves down to sit on the floor.
“Thanks!” Paisley tells her as she starts to pick things up.
“Maybe pile things up that you want to take to your mom's house over here,” Lindsay says, pointing to a spot under the front window.
“That’s a good idea,” Paisley agrees with her and does just that. I sit back, watching my daughter and girlfriend interact like they’ve been doing this forever, and I can see it. I can see more moments just like this, the three of us hanging out, Christmas mornings, birthdays and other holidays, and maybe, one day, another kid or two in the mix.
“How’s that look, Daddy?” Paisley asks, drawing me out of my daydream. I look around and see that they’ve cleaned up everything. She’s got a pile of the things she wants to take to Lilly’s, and everything else is gone. I’m assuming she put them away in her room.
“Looks perfect. How’d you do that so fast?” I ask.
“Lindsay helped me!” she says, wrapping her little arms around Lindsay’s neck.
“Thanks for that,” I say to Lindsay.
“Of course. It was pretty easy once she decided what was staying and what was going with her tomorrow.”
“So, how about we get loaded up in the truck and go find out what your last present is?” I ask.
“Yes!” Paisley exclaims and takes off for the front door, only slowing down long enough to put her shoes on and grab a light jacket from the hook.
“Thanks for all your help today.” I snag Lindsay, wrapping my arms around her as I pull her into a hug before she can escape to put her shoes on, as well.
“Of course,” she says, kissing me quickly before pulling away. “We’d better not keep her waiting.” She chuckles as we hear Paisley call out to us from outside, asking when we’re coming.
I can’t help but laugh at my daughter's antics and the fact that we’re being controlled by a five-year-old.
“You do realize we’re allowing a five-year-old to control us, right?” I ask Lindsay.
“Like she hasn’t ruled your world every day for the last five years?” she questions as she slips her feet into her boots.
“You’ve got me there,” I tell her, slapping my hand against my heart.
I follow her out the door, stopping long enough to lock up. I make it over to the truck, checking to make sure that Paisley is appropriately secured in her seat in the back. She’s learned how to buckle herself using the seatbelt. I might have had to hold back some tears when I realized my baby girl is growing up on me. I hardly blinked an eye, and she’s five, I’m going to blink again, and she’ll be walking down the aisle getting married.
Once we’re all secured in the truck, I pull out, and we make our way over to the foster family’s house.
“Before we go inside, this is someone else’s house, so let's keep our manners a priority,” I remind my daughter. I know she’s going to be excited when she meets Buckley, and I don’t want her to forget how to behave.
“Okay, Daddy,” she agrees. “Why are we at someone’s house?” she questions as we get out of the truck.
“You’ll see in just a few minutes,” I tell her as we approach the front door.
I rap my knuckles on the door, and we wait. A minute or so later, the door opens, and Rebecca, the foster mom, stands at the doorway, a smile on her face and Buckley by her side.
“You must be Paisley?” she asks excitedly. She knows what's going on and helped facilitate everything.
“I am,” Paisley confirms.
“Well, this here is Buckley, and he’s excited to meet you,” Rebecca tells her. Paisley looks back at me, and her face lights up as it hits her that she’s meeting a dog.
“We’re getting a dog?” she asks, the excitement causing her little body to shake; she is so excited.
“Yep, well, as long as you and Buckley get along tonight, then yep, he’ll get to come home with us,” I explain.
“Why don’t the three of you come in and spend some time with him, and then you can decide if he should go home with you,” Rebecca suggests, opening the door wider so that we can all walk inside. I take it from her hands,