Fragile

Jackson

I woke up with you sitting on the bottom of the bed, staring intently at us. Your legs were crossed and your nightgown was crumpled and tucked under your feet.

"Harriet?" I said groggily, "Everything okay?"

"I didn't get my spring rolls last night, daddy. Can I have them now?"

I smiled as I pulled the sheets open for you to climb in between April and I. "For breakfast? You're crazy! How about some waffles instead? I think your spring rolls have gone bad by now."

"Oh." You sighed, snuggling under the thick covers, leaning against me, "Can I put strawberries on my waffles?"

"And whipped cream?" I added  with a smirk. Your face lit up.

"Extra whipped cream!" You smiled, cuddling against your mother. "Mommy, wake up. We're having waffles!"

April stretched out, turning over and enveloped you gently in her arms. "Morning bug. Did I hear waffles?"

"With whipped cream and strawberries." I added, closing my arms around your other side so you were snug between us like a sandwich.

You sighed happily and leaned your head against April's forehead. "Cuddles boost your immune system. They also make me feel very happy!"

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We all sat around the table, your waffle with a mountain of whipped cream and strawberries. April had your daycare bag packed to the brim and you already had your coat on. She split your hair in two and French braided each side while you happily devoured your breakfast.

"So Harriet," I said delicately, "how's daycare going?" Daycare was a touchy subject for you. At 5 years old, you only stood at the height of a two year old. You didn't like being in day care because nobody your age attended; they all went to kindergarten. They all treated you the same as they would with any other 5 year old, but much more carefully.

You pouted instantly. "It makes me want to say a naughty word," she mumbled, glancing at the naughty word chart. "May I use one?"

"If it makes you feel better." April suggested, tying a blue ribbon at the end of a braid.

You took a deep breath. "I hate it." Your hands quickly shot up to your mouth and covered it. I smiled internally, feeling comforted by the fact that you thought hate was one of the worst words in the planet. You were still too young and innocent to catch up with society.

"Why?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. I took a sip of my coffee.

"Their all babies in there. And they treat me like I'm a baby! I am 5 years old!" You declared, holding up five fingers, "Not a baby."

You took a breath and turned to face April. "Mommy? Can I go to real school?"

Your mothers jaw dropped almost as fast as mine did. We didn't plan on enrolling you until you were at least six and a half, not to mention we would stick you into a kindergarten class instead of 1st grade, with an around the clock care giver. Kindergarten didn't have recess breaks with 2nd and 3rd graders. We wanted to keep you safe.

"I don't think that would be the best idea right now, Harriet." She said, "schools already started so you'd be behind and-"

You cut her off. "I read big girl books mommy! And I can spell and do math very well. I can catch up fast!"

April had the same nervous, stressed look on her face as she did when you declared you wanted to ride a bike. You turned to me.

"Oh daddy, please? Please?" Your sparkling blue eyes grew wide and pleadingly.

Uncomfortably, I looked from you to your mother, who looked like she was going to cry. "How about you go for a couple days a week this school year, and if you like it, go full time next year?" I suggested.

If looks could kill, your mother would've been charged for murder.

"After Christmas you can try." I added quickly, trying to persuade April.

"Yay! Mommy, I can show you how smart I am. Dr. Seuss invented the word nerd. See mommy? I can do it!"

April couldn't help but to crack a smile. "Yes you can." She kissed the top of your head firmly, "You can do anything you want to, Harriet."