Chapter 5 Leo #2
A tea party wasn’t done right unless there was a tea pot and tiny cups.
I had a set, and they were somewhere, hiding under something.
The set never held any liquid in them, ever.
They were for play and show, never for practical use.
The cups didn’t hold much, and I’d learned the hard way that they were difficult to clean.
Like a headless chicken, rushing around, ducking, and swiping my arms under things, I eventually found the set all together on the blue plastic tray beneath several blankets.
It was close to where my bed would be when it was down, and probably the result of me scrambling to put things away when I was pulling the bed down.
All set up, finally, I felt a little self-conscious with him watching, but the moment he held my carton of drink to my mouth and I got to take a sip, I was in the space . . . my sweet little space.
“Okay,” I announced. “I bring to order the tea party. There aren’t enough cups for everyone, so some of you will have to share.”
Daddy chuckled. “Which teddies are your favorite?” he asked. “So I know for next time. I want to be prepared, make sure I get their names right, and where they sit in your circle.”
“I’ll make you a list,” I giggle. I loved a list in both iterations of who I was, the adult and the little. “I have a lot of favorite stuffies, and I make sure to give them each their own time with me. Especially time in the tea party circle, or the reading circle we have every night.”
“Everything takes place in a circle?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Some things happen in cuddle puddles as well,” I said. “Especially in bed, although I’ve limited capacity on the bed because of an incident from a couple of weeks ago.”
Daddy perked up. “You’re gonna have to tell me all about that.”
“Well . . .” I cleared my throat and looked around the circle for the culprit. “I love all my teddies and stuffies, but sometimes they get under me in the night, and when they get all the way under me—” I puffed out in a scoff. “They make me walk funny the next day.”
“Whoa, little one, I didn’t know they had that much power.”
I burst into a giggle fit, snorting away. “Not like that, silly. Because they hurt my back. Have you read The Princess and the Pea?”
“Are you the princess?”
Shimmying my shoulders a little like there was a flourish of sound and a ding to my action. “If that’s what you think, then I won’t deny it.”
“Well, I hope my sandwiches are up to your standards, princess?”
I took a big bite from one of the finger sandwiches and pulled it away to see the teeth marks I’d left behind. After swallowing, I let out another giggle with the comment I’d formed. “Don’t think I’m much of a princess today,” I said. “That was a big bite.”
“Can I have one?” he asked.
There were at least three full sandwiches on the plate, all cut up into nice dainty slices. “Of course, Daddy. They’re good.”
“Mhm, I hope so.”
“It turns out, you’re not just talented at baking.”
He put the entire finger sandwich in his mouth, no bites, just in and chewed.
I watched in awe at how effortlessly he did it.
My mouth was far too small and delicate to take a full sandwich.
My eyes slowly dropped down, looking him over.
There was probably something my mouth could make an exception for, though.
“I could’ve told you that,” he said. “I’ve been known to make a good stew or soup. I used to meal prep the stuff in batches when I had my office job.”
I smacked my lips; mentioning those other foods felt like stomach teasing. “What can’t you do?” I asked.
Daddy screwed his lips for a moment and nodded. “I can’t—” He paused. “Well, I’m on the spot now. I can’t do a lot of things, I’m sure. I can’t think, though.”
“Can you roll your r’s?” I asked.
He tried and failed. “There you go.” And with another attempt at the trilling sound of a rolling R, he couldn’t produce it. “I have another. I can’t open my eyes under water. I’ve also been told I can’t relax. But I think I’ve solved that.”
“Oh, I love relaxing,” I said.
“Baking is relaxing. It was one of my old managers who told me I was working too much and needed to relax. Probably the best thing he ever said to me because I rediscovered baking, and that pushed me right out of marketing and right into—” He tilted his head and took my hand. “I think it pushed me to you.”
“I’m not gonna argue with that,” I said, pulling my hand away as I was beginning to sweat. “Are you gonna read a story?” I asked, pushing myself to my feet in a quick stand. “We were reading about dragons, and if you want to read, you’ve got to do the voices.”
He nodded. “Sure. What voices?”
“The dragon voices,” I said.
There was a stack of books on the bedside table, which was just a side table when my bed wasn’t down.
The top book was a picture book filled with colorful dragons.
It was part of a series, each dragon a different color of the rainbow, and each one had a different power.
This one was green, and he could breathe green glitter fire, and was able to create flowers.
With the book in his hand, I got comfy amongst the teddies. He began reading as I drank more juice, ate more sandwiches, and helped myself to little nibbles of all the different delicious pies. It was the perfect way to end a day that had started with a ball of anxiety in my stomach and chest.