Christmas Party Day. There are always those couple of sad kids whose parent never show up to anything. They latch on to any parent who shows them any sign of attention. I know by now to give one polite smile and move on. Quickly. Otherwise, you are trapped. Suckered into an hour of my-mommy-doesn't-love-me-but-you-will-do.
I sat next to Emmi as she attempted to smear icing on a cookie. Half her cookie had icing the other sad half had none. Finally I guided her hand along. We couldn't have sprinkles sticking to only one half of that cookie, could we?
From the other side of Emmi a little voice says, "Can you help me?" I look around. She was clearly speaking to me. One polite smile. One quick quide of the hand. But? The rule was broken. I had made contant. The floodgates were open.
"I miss my mommy." I know better than to take the bait and respond to this. I say nothing.
Louder this time, "I miss my mommy." Still I say nothing.
Determining I will not respond to that one, she changes tactics. "Want to know where my mommy is?"
Crap. A direct question. I could ignore her. I could pretend I didn't hear her. But I don't. Of course I don't.
"Where is your mommy, sweety?"
She smiles at me proudly. "Jail."