Motherhood is Murder(23)

A gust of wind buffeted us and I longed to climb up the hill and sit inside the lounge bar sipping something hot by the fireplace. I glanced at Evelyn’s bare feet, now covered in sticky sand.

How could she not be cold?

“I told Helene that I was handling Kyle the way they teach us at our co-op preschool, Little Bears.” Evelyn turned to me. “Do you know it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh!” Evelyn frowned again at me. “It’s the best preschool in the city. Fred has a friend who is on the board of Stanford University and he told me to do whatever I could to get Kyle into Little Bears. You should get your daughter on the wait list now.”

Was she serious? Laurie wasn’t even two months old, for crying out loud.

I supposed my stunned expression said it all because she continued, “I know it can be overwhelming, but really, take my word for it. The city is highly competitive when it comes to preschools. Well, that and swim classes. You are enrolled in swim classes, aren’t you?”

I shook my head.

Evelyn gasped. “You’re not enrolled at La Petite Grenouille?”

I felt my eyebrows furrow and tried to disguise the fact that I hadn’t even heard about La Petite Grenouille by turning my face into the wind and smoothing my hair into place.

“You have to sign up for their water acclimation class. It’s the best. You can start as soon as your daughter is two months old—but the wait list is at least six months. So you really should have signed up while you were still pregnant.”





I fought to keep my facial expression neutral.

Sign up for swim classes for a baby who’s not even born yet!

Evelyn glanced at me. I smiled. She smiled back. “Well, it’s never too late. You better sign up right away. You never know, someone might have canceled.”

I nodded.

“Honestly, Kyle is practically swimming on his own now. It’s amazing.”

I felt despair creeping over me.

Late again!

I tried to steer the conversation back to avoid the loser mom feeling overtaking me. “So, you were telling me about Helene.”

“Right.” Evelyn started walking again. I almost regretted bringing her on track because her pace seemed twice as fast as before.

My calves felt tight and I wanted to stretch them, but no way was I going to admit that I needed a break—before a pregnant women who seemed ready to deliver at any moment!

I glanced at my watch. We had only been walking fifteen minutes.

How could that be?

I felt like it had been an hour at least. When would she want to turn back?

“So anyway,” Evelyn continued, “I sent Helene and Margaret a note explaining how I’m teaching Kyle, like I’ve been taught at his preschool.”

“Which is?”

“What?” Evelyn asked, stopping cold in her tracks.

“Sorry. I guess I don’t know what you mean. Is it a special instruction—like Montessori or . . .”

A strong gust of wind whipped Evelyn’s hair loose from her ponytail and she stopped to fix it again. I took the opportunity to stretch. Hell, at least my stretching might keep her in place for a moment.

“No. But Kyle’s school doesn’t believe in punishing a child for doing something that he doesn’t know is wrong, and neither do I.”

I reached down to touch my toes and stretch my ham-strings. Thankfully this hid my face. Not that I’m a big believer in punishing small kids, per se, but how in the world is a child supposed to learn right from wrong if you never correct them?

“So then,” Evelyn continued, “Helene replies that they weren’t upset with Kyle because, after all, he’s only two, but that they were upset with me and the way I handled it. Can you imagine? What was I supposed to do? Fawn all over Sara’s silly baby?”

I straightened out of my stretch. “What did you do?”

She looked perplexed. Her mouth opened then closed. “I explained to Sara that Kyle didn’t understand his actions.”

“Did you apologize?”

“Apologize?” Evelyn looked horrified. “Kyle didn’t break skin or anything.”

He bit a baby!

But I couldn’t say it. The words got stuck in my throat.

Evelyn continued, “Sara seemed to understand. And the baby didn’t cry all that long.”

Note to self: Do not leave Laurie in arm’s reach of a vampire two-year-old.

Evelyn scooped up her flip-flops and began to walk again. “The whole situation was blown out of proportion. Really, it wasn’t a big deal. But then when I got the e-mails and get this—Helene said, ‘Well, if that’s what they’re teaching at Little Bears, when I have kids, you can be sure I won’t send them there.’ ”

The Cliff House was suddenly suspended above us; we had made it to the end of the beach. I stopped walking and glanced at my watch—thirty minutes had elapsed.

“Want to start back?” I asked.

“All right.” Evelyn nodded. But instead of turning around, she plopped down in the sand and was silent.

I listened to the lapping sound as the waves crashed against the sand, the tide breaking a few feet from where I stood. I reluctantly sat next to Evelyn, wondering if I would be able to get back up.