Page 14 of Protecting the Boundary
I haven’t spent a lot of time with Kaylee, but I’ve spent enough time to know that this is not the little girl I’m used to. Itseems like as soon as Romel walked out the door, all of the bright, vibrant color she carries in her little body walked out the door with him.
I get down on my knees and sit back on my heels so I can be eye level with her. “What’s going on in that little head of yours, Kay?”
Another shrug.
“Do you want to color?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you want to play with your dolls?”
Another head shake.
I look around the room for some ideas of what to do. My gaze catches on the TV. Romel didn’t say anything about screen time limitations, so I figure it’s worth a shot.
“We could watch a movie or a show?” I offer.
A shrug.
Quickly running out of ideas, I see a small pink football in the corner. “Do you want to toss the ball around?” Before she can shake her head or give me another shrug, I add, “I bet that’s what your daddy’s going to do at work today.”
Her eyes flick up at mine. There she is.
It’s not a verbal yes, but it’s not a shrug or a head shake, so I’m going to take it as one.
I crawl over and grab the squishy football, turning back to face her. “Okay, Kay,” I say. “Hold your hands up. I’m going to toss it to you, okay?”
She looks unsure, but she puts her hands up slowly, and I take that as another positive.
So with a gentle underhand toss, I throw it her way. The small football bounces off her chest and onto the floor. But I catch the way her lips tilt up in the faintest smile.
She ducks down to pick it up and immediately throws it back at me, with an impressive arm for a three-year-old.
I catch it with a smile. “Great job, KayBear.”
The corners of her lips lift just a little bit more. She holds her hands up and I toss it again.
More often than not, she doesn’t catch the ball and it bounces off her chest. But her smile grows with each toss and that feels like a victory in itself. Her shoulders are no longer droopy, and her eyes aren’t forlorn.
After about the sixth or seventh toss, she suddenly gets very excited about throwing the ball.
A bit too excited.
And in that excitement, she throws the ball harder and higher than I’m expecting. It passes by my fingertips, barely grazing them, but it’s just enough to change the angle so that the ball veers off to the side, right toward a shelf with some ceramic figurines, including one shaped like a teddy bear with a red and white bow tie.
I watch in slow motion as the ball knocks over the small ceramic teddy bear just hard enough that the fall causes one of the ears to break off.
Kay sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh no,” she cries. Tears instantly fill her eyes as she starts sobbing.
I’m guessing from her reaction that the figurines are special, but I’m less concerned about the broken bear than I am about Kaylee’s well-being. I wrap my arms around her, shushing her and soothing her until she eventually settles down.
To distract her, I pull up a movie, and we watch that until she falls asleep for her nap.
While she’s sleeping, I examine the figurine. It looks old, but well taken care of, and I wonder how upset Romel will be that it’s now chipped and broken. The good news is it’s not beyond repair. I’m sure some superglue will fix it, but it won’t be exactly the same. There will always be a slight crack along where the ear connects to the head, evenafter it’s fixed.
Considering the rest of the house is childproof, I’m kind of surprised Romel has something so breakable out in the room. It seems like a weird oversight.
Romel comes home from practice while Kaylee is still napping, and I’m grateful we can have this conversation without her overhearing, considering how distraught she was when it broke in the first place.
