Charlie's Angel

24

Charlie

My Saturday was going great, until I got called into work for that night.

Paris and I had our day planned out: making cookies and hot chocolate, watching whatever movie she wanted, picking out her outfits for school for the next week, and having a sleepover in a fort in the living room.

But now I had to tell her we couldn't do the last thing on our checklist, and I honestly wanted to cry.

Ever since I told Paris about me and Aaron, she was attached to me. She had become afraid that the day she supposedly leaves me would come by morning. Even though I had told her countless times that that would be a while away. And when she saw my gash over my eyebrow from Aaron, she kept giving me kisses upon kisses and wouldn't let me out of her sight. But I appreciated her concern.

When Sam saw my wound, she lectured me about how dangerous it was and how I should have told somebody to go with me. Blah, blah, blah. I'd heard it all before. But I promised I would at least tell someone next time I went near him.

"Paris," I cooed at my still sleeping daughter. She was still sleeping at ten in the morning. "How long are you gonna sleep? We have to play today."

As expected, that got her attention and she smiled herself awake. Swiping her wild curls out of her face, she sat up and immediately took my face between her hands and kissed my lips. "Hi Mommy!"

"Let's get some donuts for breakfast," I suggested, poking her nose and hearing her giggle. She nodded enthusiastically and squished my face between her hands. Warm and soft.

"Lots of sugar," she commented with a wide smile.

"Just make sure you don't get any sugar bugs." Paris didn't like the word 'cavities' so I called them sugar bugs.

We both bathed and drove to Krispy Kreme to get a dozen of hot donuts. I would have taken Sam but she was at work. Either that, or she was with her boo. I could never tell when it came to her.

Paris could barely finish one donut and I stopped myself after one and we started our day of playing.

We cured all the animals of a terrible case of chicken pox in her magic kingdom. We made sure the soup was the right temperature for them to slurp, we rubbed pink stuff on their itchy body parts, and we read them bedtime stories until Paris announced that they were sleeping. And to show how much of a struggle the job was, Paris even wiped her brow from exertion. I cackled at her for at least five minutes.

For lunch, I made us fried chicken nuggets. I chopped the raw, slimy chicken into tiny chunks and Paris had the honor of shaking the pieces in the flour and seasoned batter. She loved that job and made sure that every inch of the poultry was evenly coated. She was a perfectionist just like her father.

The recipe I used to season the chicken was the same one my father used. He added bread crumbs to his flour, along with seasoned salt, pepper, garlic powder, and he even added sea salt. The bread crumbs made them crispy, reminding me of Chick-fil-a.

"The chicken is yummy, Mommy," she beamed. She dunked a nugget into her ketchup with her own sound effects. "But the carrots are yucky."

She frowned and pushed her little plate of carrots away.

"You gotta eat them, baby," I laughed, rolling my eyes playfully. "They make you big and strong."

"Nuh-uh!"

I wanted to say something smart, but my phone rang. and before I could reach for it, Paris had it to her ear. My baby girl rolled her eyes at whoever it was, "Hi Chris." She went about eating more chicken and talking, and she was not amused at him. My heartrate unintentionally sped up at the sound of his name. Chris was a great guy. Really great to me and Paris, but Paris wasn't too fond of him lately and I couldn't figure out why. "She, um, can't talk now."