kicked out the door.”
Tildy laughs. “Butt. That’s funny. Who would kick
you? That doesn’t sound very nice. I’m not allowed to kick
people. I got in trouble at daycare because I kicked someone.”
“I know.” I lift Tildy out of the car and set her down on
the sidewalk. Taking her small hand in mine, I walk over to
the meter. “Shit,” I breathe. “I mean, shoot. Dang it. Darn.” I
glance at my curious little niece. She’s very precocious and
has the most massive ears. Not physically, just metaphorically.
She giggles again while I stare at the meter in dismay. “Of
course it would be out of order. Just of course.” Makes sense,
though, as to why the spot was open. I don’t have time to find
a new spot. I’m running late, and I passed the coffee shop six
blocks ago. I’m going to have to risk it.
“Ready to run?” I ask Tildy.
She grins back at me and nods. We take off together,
me with my huge messenger bag filled with all my writing
materials, files, and laptop bouncing at my hip. Tildy keeps up
for about half a block, then she starts to whine.
“My feet hurt. Can you carry me?”
Jesus Murphy. “Alright.” I scoop her up. Thank god
she’s pretty small for her age. It’s one of the things her parents
fight over. The fact that they can never get her to eat anything.
She’s fussy. What six-year-old kid isn’t? “Here we go.” I try to
make a game out of the fact that I look like a lame horse
running down the sidewalk.
“Why are you meeting this lady?” Tildy asks as she
bounces furiously up and down. Her face is only level with
mine every other second. I have to keep glancing around her to
see the sidewalk and the intersections coming up.
