Page 61 of Never Really Over

“How in the world did you do that?”

I look around the room and see the plastic chair from her table set pushed up closer to the crib and since the side is lowered down, she was able to just climb right in.

“Poppy, you stinker.” I chuckle, moving to stand next to her.

With a big smile, she grabs a blankie from her crib and climbs out, letting her body drag over the side until her feet touch the chair.

I’m thinking now’s a good time to invest in those extra mattresses for under her crib.

We sit on the floor together and she brings me the book she was looking through then cuddles with me on my lap.

I Love My New Toy!by Mo Willems is one that we brought over from Natalie’s house. She had a little bit of a book buying addiction and had what seemed like dozens of books by this particular author. Whenever Poppy and I read, she chooses one of them and it makes me wonder if on some level, she remembers her mother reading them to her.

This one, though, hits me a little differently. It’s about the elephant and a pig, like all of them are, but the central theme is forgiveness and realizing that friendships are more important than material things.

Missy’s words swirl around in my head.

I think you haven’t forgiven her because she was your best friend and, in your mind, she bailed on not only your relationship, but your friendship, too.

She’s right. Layla wasn’t only my girlfriend and the woman I thought I was going to marry. She was my best friend. Of course I know that people change and grow and that’s a wonderful thing, but the way she was acting was simply so out of character.

I wonder for the thousandth time if I was wrong and sheisstill the same Layla I once loved.

Chapter Twelve

Colt

All-American Girl

It’sparty day for Poppy. She doesn’t have a clue, but when I ask her if she’s excited, she smiles and laughs, claps her hands, and presents me with one finger like I’ve been showing her how to do for the past month.

She’s walking completely on her own now which means my nerves are pretty much a mess. The house is baby-proofed, and often times Colt-proofed because those damn cupboard and drawer child safety locks are frustrating on a good day. When I’m having a bad day? I want to yank the door off the cupboard and toss it aside.

Poppy is getting into everything. Constantly. Her little hands grab anything she can get a hold of and her little feet pitter-patter all through the house, often accompanied by giggles. Then she falls, cries, my heart stops, I pick her up, and she does it all over again.

She has my nerves so frazzled I can hardly get through the day without having a mild panic attack. After we got through the catastrophe of her teething — which wasn’t her first tooth, just a first for me without Natalie around — I thought it would be smooth sailing. How wrong I was. Turns out, one-year-old baby girls are maniacs. At least, this one is.

How she went from barely moving to being an Olympic track star, rock climber, and gymnast overnight is still a mystery. Now I understand why parents want to wrap their children in bubble wrap. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like when she’s a teenager and I’m trying to keep her safe. I’ll be a basket case.

The girls keep laughing at me, telling me that I’ll get used to it and can’t protect her from everything, but quite honestly, it’s not helpful advice at all. They’re just making it worse, reminding me that this is only the beginning.

Why do parents do that?

It’s like they find a reason to one-up each other.

My kid did a swan dive off the kitchen table…

Oh, that’s nothing, just wait until they…

No. Enough. I want to yell at all of them and demand they let me wallow and cry about the trauma of witnessing Poppy be so reckless on a daily basis. All the while, Poppy is just happy as ever, climbing up her little plastic slide then sliding down the stairs on the other side of it. She thinks my being terrified is hilarious.

The only reassurance I’ve found is that her doctor told me that she’s very advanced in her adventurous spirit. That shouldn’t have reassured me, rather it should have made me even more nervous, however, I must admit that I was a little proud to hear it. I also felt like I must be doing something right with her, if she’s practically a genius at the age of one.

One.

I still can’t believe my little Tootsie Pop is one.

And her mother is missing it.

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