I plop (quite literally, plop) Lis down on the recliner chair and wedge her in. I hand her books and a rubber duck to play with, and I park myself on the floor in front of the chair, so that if she falls off, she will tumble into my arms. Her aunt, my husband’s twin sister, is sitting across from me.
AC: You’re so tall, squeaker. You’re going to have all the height your daddy stole from me. [She believes, not without foundation, that all of Vor’s height should have gone to her. She would have made better use of it, athletically speaking).
Me: Yeah, Lis. Think of all the sports you can play. You will be a champion volleyball player. [AC, a volleyball player and coach, grins.] Or maybe a rower? [My favorite sport, closely followed by volleyball.] I wouldn’t be opposed to a swimmer either, Lis. Just not basketball, please. Or hockey, the equipment is too expensive.
AC: Oh, we can take up a collection from my friends who are hockey coaches. No problem. Maybe handball?
AC: Ohh, yes! Or water polo! Or football!
Me: Football? [My head is quirked to the side] I’m all for the girl power and football, but her knees! Her head! [My brain is thinking, OMG her head her head her head].
AC: Okay, water polo. Track. Soccer! Baseball! Tennis! I see college scholarships for all of these in your future!
We may be getting ahead of ourselves, here. After all, this is the kid who is still sucking her fingers and toes.
On second thought, maybe she’ll be a super flexible gymnast. Or ballet. Or yoga master supreme. Or anything, anything at all, anything she wants to be.
Okay, fine, you can email me at graceandpressure [at] yahoo [dot] com. Don't all flood me with emails at once, you know. If you're emailing about craniosynostosis, put it in the subject, and I'll respond quicker. Deal? Deal.