
It was her idea. She wanted to go on a picnic with Pappy (moi) and her six year old sister after we went to the “Iberry”. She is three and this was her first picnic. And, maybe her last.
I call it the picnic that went wrong.
She ran around so much her heel skin rubbing against her Ugg boots got irritated and a patch of tender skin tore off. She screamed, “I want my Mommie!” Ok. Ok. We’ll just take the boot off and walk back to the car with one barefoot. Screams ensued and more eye and nose liquid than I thought possible in one small human being.
I offered to take off my shoe and sock, so the both of us could walk back to the car with one barefoot.
The six year old sister yells out, “Pappy, you’re not going to show that toe, are you?”
(I’ve got a bad toe, ok? I ‘ve learned to keep it covered up around small children.)
“O, boy,” I say. “How about I put my sock on your sister’s foot while you look away toward the library and then I’ll put my foot back into my shoe, sockless, but covered up?”
Deal. It even made the three year old laugh a bit putting on Pappy’s sock but the laughter didn’t last because she insisted on putting her foot back into the offending Ugg boot.
“I want my mommie!”
“Me, too, honeychile. Me, too.”
We set off toward the car. The three old limped like her leg had been amputated. The six year old ran far ahead so there was no chance she’d catch sight of my toe.
When we got home, their mother opened the door and the screams started.
My screams not theirs.
How do parents do it?
The next day I dropped something off at their house and the three year old said, “No more picnics, Pappy!”
Deal, sweet girl.
©Pat Coakley 2009










