Page 43 of Off the Stick
But sure enough, what she said was indeed accurate.The site I found said that kids had to sit in the back seat and remain in forward-facing child safety seats until the age of seven, switching to booster seats until they reach a specific maximum height and weight.Jesus, how do parents know this stuff?
Are there playbooks for raising kids?If so, I need to get one pronto.
It’s a strange off-kilter feeling to not know what to do, and it has my confidence level plummeting.Give me a question about hockey, and I’ll give you the answer before you can spit.But a kid?I feel dumber than a box of rocks.
Not only did the car seat thing throw me for a loop this morning sending me behind schedule, but so did the tantrum Lenni had over not wanting to remove her pajamas and put on clothes for school.
I may have bribed her with candy.Not my finest moment, but again, novice here.I used what tools I had at my disposal to take down my opponent and win the game.
But now I’m stuck rooting around the kitchen in search of Halle’s car keys so I can drive her car that’s correctly car seat-equipped.I’ve looked in all the usual places where I’d place a set of keys.They aren’t in a kitchen drawer.Or on a hook.Or even on a hallway table.
“Hey Lulu Lennon, do you know where your mommy keeps her car keys?”
Halle had fallen back to sleep about an hour ago, after I’d brought her some juice and toast and then helped make sure she was fine on her own in the bathroom.She seemed less wobbly then, but I still had no intention of walking back in there to wake her up with a question when I’m sure I can find the keys on my own.I am bound and determined to handle this situation without her assistance.
Lenni sits at the kitchen table finishing the bowl of gummy worms I gave her to placate her while I changed her into a kid-approved outfit.
She turns her head to look at me over her shoulder and gives me that face, the one that saysyou’re an idiot.
“In her purse.”
“Um, okay.Do you know where she might have put that, Miss Smarty Pants?”I close the kitchen drawer I was rifling through and do a quick scan around the floor by the front door and couch to see if maybe I missed it somewhere.
Lenni giggles and shoves more gummies in her mouth, muffling her answer.“Nope.”
I ruffle her hair as I walk by.Another part of her earlier meltdown was because she wanted me to put her hair in braids.Braids?Not a chance.She was lucky I managed to get a brush through her hair, which is still a wild, matted mess and looks like she went through a wind tunnel.
“Okay.Well, stay right here and I’ll go find them so we can get going.”
I check my watch and grumble.I am going to get hell for being late to practice.While Halle was in the bathroom earlier, I’d already sent a text to Coach T to let him know there was a chance I might be late due to an “unexpected family emergency.”And before she fell back asleep, Halle sent off a message to her boss informing him she was still sick at home.Then she called Lenni’s teacher at Little Vikings daycare to grant permission and consent for me to drop Lenni off and pick her up today and possibly tomorrow.
If the teacher thought that was strange, she didn’t remark on it.She also didn’t ask my relation to Lenni, and Halle made no mention that I am Lennon’s dad.She simply stated I was a friend of the family and assisting with Lenni while she was under the weather.
I’m not going to lie.My feelings were low-key hurt that my fatherly duties seemed to have an expiration date stamped on them.But I’m not going to let it get me down.I have faith that she’ll come around once she sees how far I’ve come just in the past few days.During this time, I’ve had a crash course in childcare, learning through the educational lens of a four-year-old exactly how to do things.
The first, of course, and most important, is how to properly play make-believe and pretend to be Olaf.Had to google that one, too.I was also instructed on how to make the perfect pancakes and pour the appropriate amount of syrup over them.Pretty sure it was more than one child should ever consume in one breakfast.And there was the lesson on how to gently glide a brush through bedhead hair without snagging it through all the snarls.I did not, however, master a ponytail.Why do they make those twist-ties so damn tiny?
And lastly, I’ve learned just how very difficult it is to get an extremely energetic little girl to bed.For the record, it took close to ten thousand books and a made-up song I sung off key for her to finally close her eyes and fall asleep.
The question that flits through my mind is how the hell does Halle handle this every single day?
I swear to God, I think it’s harder to raise a child than it is to attend training camp every year.
My feet pad quietly down the hallway toward Halle’s back bedroom.I’d left the door slightly ajar when she went back to bed in case she needed something.When I approach, the light in the room is still off, so I quietly place my palm on the door and push it open, hoping to step quietly inside in search of Halle’s purse.
But that’s not what happens.
Instead of a purse, I find Halle standing in the middle of the room, completely naked and facing directly toward the door as I tiptoe into her room.
She shrieks, one arm flying out to cover her naked breasts and the other dipping lower to hide the area between her legs—but not before I get an eyeful of her in her birthday suit.
“What the hell, Dane?Don’t you knock?”
Obviously, I’ve seen naked women before.And she is one of them.I’ve had a lot of firsthand experience with how perfectly supple her tits are.My hands and mouth have explored that soft, plump terrain, and those memories are still often featured in my dreams.
My gaze flashes with interest as I descend over her form.The fuller curves of her hips and stomach, and the smooth skin of her slightly parted thighs.
Shit.I’m staring, and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t seem to move my feet to turn away.
