ꕥ December 2, 1969 ꕥ
33 weeksMary was very happy with the chocolate Paul had just bought for her for ruining her peaceful sleep last night. We were making our way back up to the house, fighting away the cold as we walked.
"Mary, today, I've got a job for you," Paul said to the little girl as she put another piece of chocolate into her mouth.
"A job?" she asked skeptically, not sounding completely thrilled at the idea.
Paul nodded briskly as we stepped into the house. Paul stood Mary up onto the small bench that was next to the door so that we could help her out of her coat and shoes. "Today, we are going to clean your room!" he said, trying to sound enthusiastic, but Mary immediately frowned. If there was one thing she hated, it was helping clean her room.
"Well, I don't wanna do that," she responded, sitting down on the bench and crossing her arms across her chest.
I looked over at Paul, giving him an "I told you so" look, because I had in fact told him this would happen. This was what always happened when we so much as brought up the concept of cleaning with her.
"Well, you don't get to choose otherwise," Paul responded with a smile, placing his hands on her shoulders.
"No," she responded promptly.
"You don't want the babies to see your messy room when they're born, right? Don't you want them to see it all nice and clean?"
"No," she repeated stubbornly. Fucking Paul and his stubborn genes, and damn him for giving them to our bloody child.
"Mary," Paul said, sounding rather stern. He was trying to make sure she knew that this wasn't a joking matter. He could be serious just as well as he could be playful. "I'm not asking. I am telling."
I reached forward and took the chocolate out of her hands. Her eyes widened in frustration. "You can have it back when you help Daddy clean your room," I told her, waving it before turning to bring it into the kitchen.
I immediately heard her begin to cry, and it broke my heart. I wanted nothing more than to turn around and just give it back to her, but I knew that in the long run, this would be better for her. Discipline, right?
"Ooh, don't do this!" Paul said, trying to sound optimistic. I put the chocolate into the fridge and turned to see him picking her up. She writhed around, trying to get out of his grip. "You'll get it back after we clean. Come on, it'll be fun!"
"I don't wanna!" she repeated, hitting Paul's arm weakly in protest.
"Ow!" Paul said dramatically. "Don't hurt me," he said. "I didn't do anything."
"You made me sad." She puckered out her bottom lip and crossed her arms. I leaned against the doorway of the kitchen to watch them. I knew that the words she'd just said probably tore Paul apart at the seams, but he kept a brave face.
"This all seems a bit over-the-top for a little cleaning," he said. "I was gonna bring the radio upstairs so we can listen to whatever you want while we clean, but you're making that incredibly difficult for me," he went on. Mary continued to scowl at him. "The longer we stand down here, the longer this is going to take, so let's just go up there now, alright?" He paused. "Your mummy has cleaned this whole house from top to bottom on her own. The least we can do is give her a little help, okay?" he said finally. There was a moment of silence before Mary finally nodded.
Paul gave me a triumphant look and I smiled at him.
ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ
If I ever get, to heaven I'll bet
The first angel I'll recognize
She'll smile at me and I know she will be
My beautiful Ebony Eyes
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