Tonight Lilah and I had to run to Holiday Market for steaks before I could start dinner preparations. Getting out of the house if I'm not taking Lilah is heartbreaking. She has to be held by someone else while I put on my coat and grab my purse, kiss her and tell her I love her, and leave to screams of, "Mama!" I'll be honest. I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from tearing up every time. Getting out of the house if I am taking Lilah is taxing. I still have to go through all of the same steps, only instead of someone else holding her, that someone else is putting on her coat and shoes while she cries and frantically whips her head around, trying to keep me in sight at all times. When she's finally released, she runs to me and motions with her little hands. "C'mere, Mama." Then all is well once she's strapped in and she realizes she's coming along.
So we were in the car. Holiday is literally a couple miles from the house. The trip should have taken me 30 minutes if I dawdled. It took over an hour. I had barely gotten onto Woodward Avenue when cars slowed to a snail's pace. Lilah looked at me like I was insane as I shouted at the other drivers. There was a flurry of snow, but it was far from The Day After Tomorrow, and I had a dinner to make. We finally made it without incident.
We picked up two lemons, which Lilah correctly identified. We got baby bellas and she held them momentarily, looking important, before handing them to me. "Here, Mama." We grabbed an unassuming bag of sharp cheddar, and made our way to the meat counter. Lilah looked mildly abandoned when I left the cart to get a number. When our number came, I had a brief chat with the helpful woman who assisted us in choosing two big, delicious-looking steaks. One of the nice things about having a small family is that we can have dinners that would otherwise be very expensive, but for the three of us, dinner cost a total of 12 dollars to prepare with all the sides included. The steaks were on special for 5.99 a pound, and I was happy. Lilah was indifferent other than to periodically declare, "I need it," and point to random cuts of meat.
(For those of you who aren't around her regularly, "I need it" is the bane of our existence. When she was tiny and would frequently snatch things she shouldn't have, I was wary of snatching them right back and saying, "No!" Logically, this would only set the example for her to take things from us and say, "No!" In theory, I was correct. The biggest lesson I have learned so far as a mother is that theory sounds lovely, but practice is usually an entirely different thing altogether. In this case, I would take things gently but firmly from Lilah, smile, and tell her, "I need it. Thanks!" Today, Lilah will very confidently walk up to whatever catches her fancy, either take or point to it, and say, "I need it," and relieve its owner of whatever it is. Most people are so shocked they have no idea how to respond. I curse the day I started "I need it.")
After we were finished with all our shopping, I took Lilah to the bakery department. I'm sure you've all seen the sad displays at Kroger bakery with the sloppy-looking cupcakes, dried out cookies, and occasional cake with spray painted colors. This is nothing like that. It's professional pastry chefs making gorgeous desserts that look too beautiful to eat. Almost. After sitting through shopping at Holiday, Lilah is always allowed to go to the bakery and choose a treat from behind the glass. Anything she likes. After picking up our steaks, I told her it was time to go get her treat. "Treeeeeeat!" She started bouncing. "Yep! Should we get you a cookie? (Considering) A cake? (Grinning) What about a pie or a cupcake? (Clapping and squealing). Let's go see what they have today." We started at the cupcake section, and she did continue to shout, "I need it!" She didn't seem too taken with anything though. We passed the tortes and pies, and were moving on to the chocolate strawberries, petits fours, and cakes when she started having what appeared to be some sort of seizure and saying, "C'mere, Mama!" I saw what she was writhing her entire body at, and it was a pretty little fruit tart. It was just her size, filled with vanilla custard, and topped with pineapple slices and all her favorite berries. She'd found her treat. The woman who boxed it up nicely in a clear plastic case was so taken by Lilah's angelic grins and excited wiggling. "You must have been a very good girl. This is your treat, hmm?" Lilah was smiling so much you couldn't see her eyes. I handed her the clear box and started to wheel toward the checkout.
"Open it, Mama?" I gave a quick explanation of the many reasons we couldn't open it just yet. She blinked at me. "We have to go home so you can sit in your seat and eat it." She looked at me like she knew I was full of it. There was no magical setting to eating a confection like this. You ate it as soon as someone handed it to you, as fast as possible, in case someone tried to take it away from you. Period. I handed it to the cashier to scan and she dissolved into panic. He promptly handed it back and rang it up manually. We got into the car and I made the fatal mistake of popping a blackberry into her mouth to quiet her until we got home. She swallowed it nearly whole and said, "More?"
It took us almost 20 minutes just to get home with the way people were driving. She pried at the box with her little fingers, shook it (delicately), looked it over from all angles, and tried all manner of passwords. "Open it? Please? More? Open it. I need it. Please more. I'm hungry. What is it? MAMA!" The latter was the most frequent. I answered in whatever way I thought she would buy for a moment.
"Daddy has to help you open it."
"No. Mine." Clever girl, Dano would take a huge bite for sure if he "helped".
"You have to sit in your seat at the table to eat it." She gave me the same, "That's bullshit, Mama" look. "We're almost home." She mostly insisted loudly that the box be opened for her. 6 blocks from home, she said, "Here, Mama." I honestly thought she was handing it to me to keep until we got home. As soon as I had it, she said, "Open it. Open it, Mama. Please. I'm hungry." (Lilah's "I'm hungry" translates to "There is something I want to eat". It has nothing to do with actual hunger.) I decided to make a big show of trying to open it, hoping to buy myself those last 6 blocks. 2 blocks later, Lilah thought she'd been tricked and dissolved into tears. I wavered between wondering if I'd be giving into a fit, or if I should give it to her because I really had attempted to fool her and she was too smart for it to work. I opened it and handed it to her. Utter silence in the back seat. 2 blocks to go. I glanced back to make sure she wasn't dead. Smears of custard everywhere, not a piece of fruit in sight other than the fat blackberry I saw between her lips for a millisecond before it disappeared. She was a mess, too. I groaned. She grinned and made short work of the cookie tart base. We pulled in and Dano peered in the window.
After a look at my face, "What happened? Was she bad?" I pointed to the back seat. "Oh God."
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