Page 6 of Broken SEAL'S Secret Baby
I’m so proud of her. She is being so good. I’m pretty sure that Miss Bailey had been right, that her feet were wet, so I send Sherry to help her change into jammies and to make sure she brushes her teeth.
While they are doing that, I turn down the bed and look for a selection of books. I could thank Em for this skill. She’d pointed out over and over that if you limit the choices, but do give a choice, there will be less trouble.
Knowing I have limited time, I pull out two Dr. Seuss books, a favorite tell-a-tale book about a little cat, and a puppet book that lets you put your fingers through the pages to animate the story.
By the time Sherry has Cece out of her funeral clothes and into jammies, I am ready for her.
Cece cheerfully climbs into her bed, and I settle into the chair beside her.
“You gotta hold the book so I can see it,” Cece directs.
Obediently, I turn the illustrated page so she can see what is on it. She listens attentively to the end, then pays attention to the clown antics I give the finger puppet in the other book.
When it is finished, she asks, “Can I have a drink of water, please Daddy?”
Inwardly, I groan. I knew what was coming next, but how could I refuse her? I bring a cup of water.
She downs it, then whispers loudly, “I gotta go potty!”
“Can you manage by yourself?” I ask.
“I’m a big girl,” she says proudly. “I can do it.”
When she comes back, she says, “I’m all waked up now. Can I get up?”
“Maybe not quite yet,” I hedge. “How about if I sing to you?”
“Okay,” she agrees. “The frog song? ALL the verses of it?”
“Sure,” I say and begin to sing “Froggie went a-courtin’,” from the proposal to Miss Mousie, straight on through to the ride on the lake, and even the ending verse about bread and cheese on the shelf.
I manage not to tear up, but it is a near thing. Em and I used to harmonize on the chorus. We might not have agreed about everything, but we both loved to sing, especially for Cece.
I’m hopeful that I would now see a sleeping child. But, no. Two bright blue eyes look up at me. “You sing good,” she says. “I listened to every bit of it. Can I get up now?”
I think about the emails, bills, and messages waiting for me on my computer. It is now four o’clock in the afternoon. Manuela would have gone home an hour ago. Sherry will be setting the table for dinner soon.
“Would you like to sit at your little desk in my office and color for a while?” I asks.
“Sure!” my big girl says. “I can do that.”
We go into the office, and each sit down at our desks. I ignore the other adult-sized desk in the room. In my memories, Em would be sitting there, either planning out the week ahead or doing her graduate school homework. But try as I might to envision her there, the chair and desk remain just as empty as they had been after she had left nearly a month ago.
Cece importantly sits down at her child-sized desk. We didn’t hand her care over to a nanny when she was at home unless we both had a heavy workload. Em had thought it was important for her to have contact with both of us as often as possible, especially after I came home. Remembering my own childhood of nannies, then tutors and sometimes boarding school, I could not disagree.
I’m not dissatisfied with my upbringing. My parents had set an example of competency, responsibility, and compassion. But neither of them were emotionally warm, and I was left with very little experience to fall back on as a father.
Cece is a continual revelation. At four years old, she has discovered so many methods of getting her own way. And I have a limited arsenal for getting her to follow a schedule, eat her vegetables, and to behave properly in company. My dearest, manipulative little girl would make a great diplomat.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I ask, envisioning her addressing the UN under a row of flags.
Cece looks up from the coloring book she had selected. The picture is of a rocket ship taking off. A girl with the classic bubble space helmet sits in the cockpit.
“An astronaut,” she says. “I will fly high up in the sky and go to the moon.”
I feel amusement bubble up inside me, and a little pride, too. “Where did you learn about astronauts?”
“At school. Miss Kate showed us a video of men really,really walking on the moon. And then she read a story about mice on the moon. They ate green cheese.”
