“Mommy, I don’t want to come back here ever again.”
I use the cheeriest voice I’m capable of when I answer. “Well, guess what . . . you don’t ever have to come back here again. I don’t like this place anymore.”
Sammy sounds happier already. “I don’t like that plathe at all. Thothe people are mean and they’re thcary too.”
I talk aimlessly, not sure how to handle this situation, but pretty sure that keeping him talking is a good thing. “You know, I never knew that before. I always thought they were so nice. But apparently they’re mean. And stupid.”
I’m strapping Sammy into his car seat when he looks at me with a serious expression. “Mommy, that’th not nithe to call people thtupid.”
Tears rush to my eyes, but I blink them away. “You’re right, baby. It’s not nice to call people stupid even when they’re stupid.”
Sammy smiles. “You’re funny, Mama.”
I reach in and squeeze his cheeks together, kissing his pudgy little lips. “You’re funny too. You make me laugh all the time. You’re my best baby boy.”
“Thophie thayth I’m your only boy, tho if you thay I’m your betht boy it doethn’t really mean anything.”
I’m going to have to have a talk with Sophie, obviously. She needs to understand how much her brother actually listens to her.
“I’ll tell you what, Sammy. How about if I tell you right now that you are my favorite littlest child.”
Sammy gives me a huge grin. “I like that. That’th awethome. I’m your favorite.”
I wink at him and don’t bother to correct him. “Just don’t tell your sisters I said so.”
Sammy puts his fingers around his mouth and then throws his hand up.
I look at him in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“I’m locking my mouth and throwing the key in the garbage.”
“I gotcha.” I pat him on the head. “You ready to go see your sisters?”
“No.” He frowns, losing all of his happy glow in an instant.
“Why don’t you want to see your sisters? Your sisters love you.”
“Maybe they’ll make fun of me.” He says it with such a pitiful voice, it makes my heart break.
“They would never make fun of you for real, Sammy. Only mean people do that, and your sisters are not mean. They might tease you once in a while, but that’s not the same. Do you understand that?”
He nods, but doesn’t appear to be very convinced. I stand there for a few seconds and sigh. I’m not going to be able to fix this in the parking lot of the daycare from hell.
I shut his door and get into the front seat, checking my boy in the rearview mirror. “Are we ready to rock ’n’ roll?”
He nods. “I’m ready to rock ’n’ roll. Ith Dev gonna come to our houthe?”
I stare at him for a few seconds. “Why would you ask that?”
He’s looking out the window when he answers. “Becauthe I like him. Maybe he wanth to come over and play with my Thpider-Man. He could borrow it.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I’m going to see Dev for dinner tomorrow. So maybe he’ll come inside before we go out to dinner and play with Spider-Man for a little while. Not a long time, just a little while.”
Sammy is already looking happy at the prospect. “Like an hour. An hour will be good.”
I shake my head. “No, more like ten minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him almotht an hour, ’kay?”
Rather than argue the finer points of timekeeping with my three-year-old, I start the car and begin our trip home. “We’ll see, Sammy, we’ll see.”
My poor baby with the swollen, bloodshot eyes is sound asleep by the time we arrive home at five o’clock. The school bus pulls up to the stop just down the street as I’m unloading his sleeping form from the car, so I stand in the driveway and wait for my girls. A feeling of joy washes over me as they come running around the corner and across the grass to join us.
“Who wants pizza?” I ask. I should probably do a better job of cooking for them tonight, but I’m exhausted. Pizza every couple weeks isn’t going to kill them. My Mom of the Year award is going to have to wait. Again.
The chorus of happy answers is loud enough to wake Sammy up, but when he finds out why they’re so excited, he starts screaming in happiness too. They all tumble into the family room and immediately start playing superhero action figures together. I watch for a little while, letting their joy soothe me. I may not be perfect, but I’m an okay mom most of the time.
The doorbell rings, startling me from my thoughts, and I walk over to look through the peephole. May is standing there with Ozzie at her side.