Daddy’s Day

Daddy strummed loudly, but even louder were the thundering feet as the Girls twirled and jumped and rolled, too much motion in a tiny space in our crowded bedroom. I’m not sure what my deal is, I like to think that I’m overprotective, but I get pretty anxious when there is too much noise and action. I tried to be as relaxed as the other grownups, so only a few times did I tell Geraldine that she needed to calm down. I explained to her that when she’s in the Grownups room, she has to act a little more like a grown up. She went back to rolling all over the bed, and into Daddy’s guitar. Still, better than off the edge and into one of her sisters. Edward stopped the music abruptly and asked Alice to put the guitar up.

“Alright, we’re going to play a game,” he announced. “We’re going to wrestle, and I’m going to win, but here are the rules.” The girls squealed and bounced in place with anticipation. “There will be no screaming. No biting, no pulling hair. You can’t get off the bed.”

My eyes shot over to my purse on the corner on the bed, as well as Bailey’s jewelry box that Gina was told earlier not to play with, positioned carefully on the bedside table next to a few other trinkets. “No props,” I added.

“No props, take your purse,” he instructed me as I tried adjusting Guinevere in one arm so I could grab my purse with the other hand. I quickly left the room. I didn’t need to be there getting myself worked up just watching them wrestle, knowing that I couldn’t easily handle the chaos of simple dancing.

From the other side of the door I heard squeals of laughter, which are far more musical when you’re not watching.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s