She crawls into my bed at around 5 a.m., like she does whenever she is sleeping at my house. My almost-5-year-old daughter, throwing my door open and exposing me to the hallway light that I keep on, knowing she will be there sooner or later. I pull the covers up and she jumps in bed and cuddles next to me. She can’t get close enough and demands I put my arm over her.
“Pretect me, Daddy,” she says. I sleepily lift my arm and carefully place it over her little shoulders, forming an arch so as not to put any real weight on her tiny frame. She sighs happily.
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But she has something to say, which is pretty much the norm. Very much like her daddy she has a lot to say, and most of it not really that important. This morning, her cat is on her mind. She has a kitten-which turns out is a little crazy-at her mother’s house, and she has clearly been thinking about her little pet in these waking minutes. The cat is being brought to the vet on this morning for some shots.
“Daddy, Ella will be fine,” she says. “She just needs her shots.”
“Yes, honey. It will make her feel better,” I answer.
“But Daddy, you know Ella is a little crazy. She can be nuts. She jumps and jumps. And when I rub her belly she bites me.”
“Tell her that Daddy is going to get rid of her if she bites you anymore.”
“No, Daddy. You are not going to do that.”
She flips over on her back now, too engrossed in the conversation to close her eyes. Mine have barely opened at all, but I am awake. Besides her penchant for verbosity, she inherited the inability to sleep late. Like her dad, when the sun comes over the horizon she is awake. Unless, of course, it is a weekday and we are pressed for time and we have to leave even earlier.
And then comes the first conversation change. She speaks of her newborn cousin.
“Jude has gas, right daddy? But he will feel gooder when he uses the new formula.”
“We hope so, honey. He has a little belly.”
“Yeah, and he can’t eat pasta or anything like that, right Daddy? He has no teeth, and little babies only drink milk. But Aunt Katie is nursing, right Daddy?”
“She is trying, honey.”
Next gear-her friend Kayla.
“Kayla is coming over today, right Daddy? Grandma Belle comes over and we play today. It’s Nonni day.”
“Sure is, honey.”
“But Ella will be fine, Daddy. And you won’t have to give her away. She’ll be gooder.”
“I hope so, honey.”
“I want won ton soup, Daddy.”
“It’s too early for won ton, honey.”
“But we can have it for dinner, right, Daddy? Because it’s been a long time since we had Chinese, right Daddy? And it’s OK if we don’t eat it all the time, right?”
“That’s right, honey.”
“You were little like Jude, Daddy?”
“At one time I was, honey.”
“Now you’re big, right Daddy? You’re a grown up?”
“That’s what they tell me, honey.”
Her shoulder is exposed to the air conditioner, and she squeals.
“It’s cold, Daddy! Cuddle me!”
I reset my arm and she falls back into my chest. She is silent now, breathing deeply and falling back to sleep. I enjoy the moment before I allow myself to drift off too, with her little voice in my head and heart.
E-mail Michael Martino at mmartino@longislandpress.com.
