The House

The morning

Life was completely normal. But I guess that is how ot always starts I am sure. Completely normal before it all turns to shit. But I am getting ahead of myself.
It was a lazy, saturday morning. Bacon was popping in the pan as I tested my agility by running around collecting laundry and dishes. My dirty blonde hair was stretched into a loose bun, causing loose strands to fall into my makeup less face. Being a single mother is anything but glamorous. I stuck butter-less toast in my mouth and sprinted accross the kitchen to flip the already burning bacon. Mumbling under my breath, I removed the pan from the stove and tried to save any red pieces in the pool of dusty black.
"Mommy, what smells icky?" my little girl, Delia, whined as she entered the kitchen. She was rubbing her eyes, trying to wake herself up. Her red hair was a poofy mane around her little head. Her hand was firmly grasping her doll, Molly. "It smells bad!" She wrinkled her nose and plopped into one of the kitchen chairs. "It smells, Molly!"

I let out a defeated sigh as I filled the pan with water. "Mommy just wanted to make breakfast..." Good Job, Emma, I thought to myself. What a great mother you are.

"I want fruity oops!" Deila just turned five and is still having a hard time on pronouncing words. Teachers keep pulling me in, trying to convince me to put her in their speech program.

"Fruit loops, hun." I remind her. I turned away to get her a bowl. It was to be her bowl, the one with Cinderella on the bottom. It was on the highest shelf, but climbing up and sorting through all the kids' bowls was better than dealing with the temper tantrum that would follow if I grabbed a yellow bowl instead. Finally I got her bowl down and placed it in front of her.

"Fruit oops." she repeated. "Mommy, where is my doll?" she started to play with her bowl, spinning it around the table.

I looked at her empty lap. "Baby, you just had it. Where did it go?" I looked around her feet, on the table and around the floor. Nothing. "Where did you put her?"

Delia pointed behind me. "Mommy, she is on the counter!" she giggled and clapped her little hands.

"No, I was just over there getting your bowl..." I could not find the doll around Delia. "I saw you sit down with it, baby."

"On the counter! She moved to the counter, mommy!" she pointed behind me.

I turned around to humor her, but to my surprise right under the cabinet that holds the bowls was her yarn-headed doll. "Um, did you move her, sweet heart?" I could have sworn she sat down with Molly.

"Mommy, she wanted to be with you," Delia said matter-of-factly.

She must have moved her