Spring: Officially Broken In (the finale)

I was jumpy.  Like a battle weary soldier who expects another attack at any moment.  Every ten minutes I took the temperature of the situation.  "How's everybody doing?  Logan?  Good?  Griffin?  Emily?  Everybody good?  Okay.  Just checking."

Ten minutes later, "Griffin, Logan, Emily?  Everybody still doing alright?  Okay.  Good."

Ten minutes after that, "Everybody still feeling alright?  Logan?  Griffin?  Emily!"  Catching her reflection in the riewview mirror, I saw her holding the licorice bucket, which I, by the grace of Heaven, had left accidentally near her.  "Ems.  Why are you holding that bucket?  Are you feeling sick?"

"No," she meekly answered.

"But...why are you holding that bucket?"  I was confused.  "Are you going to throw up?"

"No," she quietly answered again.

"But..."

Griffin piped up, "She already did."

"What?!  Emily!  Why didn't you say anything?!"  She is the first stealth puker I have ever encountered.  I hadn't heard a thing.  "Mercy!  You have got to tell me when you feel sick, honey," I said as I again pulled over.  I opened her door.  "Watch out Griff," I instructed as I popped his seat forward.  "Here, honey.  Hand me that.  You can't have a bucket of vomit on your lap all the way home."  Without a word, she shyly handed it over.  I dumped it and cleaned it out.  Wet wipes have won my heart forever. "Do you want to get out?  Walk around for a little bit?  Get some fresh air?" 

"No," she quietly replied.

"Okay, no.  You  need to get out and get some air.  C'mon.  Walk around a little bit."  Griffin gladly bounded out to join her.  After a few minutes I asked, "Okay, Ems.  You feeling a little better?"

She nodded.

"Alright then.  Let's get back in the car.  You want to sit up front?"

She shook her head.

"Okay, no.  I shouldn't have phrased that in the form of a question.  You need to sit up front.  Okay?  Okay.  Logan, honey?  Move.  Emily needs to sit there."

We made the necessary seating adjustments and were off once again.  For the next ten miles I ruminated over the oddities of the whole situation.  Finally I couldn't take it anymore.  "Emily.  Emily," I repeated as I pulled the earphone out of her ear.  "Am I scarey?"

She just looked at me with her big eyes.

"I mean are you afraid I'm going to get mad?  Like, 'Arrrrrrrgh!'" I said growling at her.

She giggled and shook her head.

"You know I love you, right?"

She nodded.

"You know that if anything happened to your mommy or daddy I would take care of you like one of my own babies, right?"

She nodded.

"Okay then, you need to talk to me.  I know you get shy around everybody else, but I've known you since you were born, and I think I've seen you almost every day since.  If there is a problem, you've got to tell me.  Maybe you don't talk to everybody else, but you talk to me, okay?"

She nodded.

"Nope.  I'm waiting for words here.  You are actually going to have to say some words."

"Okay."

"Okay!  We're going to shake on it, right?  We have a deal, right?  From here on out."

As I reached over, took her hand, and shook it hard, she responded with a simple, "Okay."  She put her earphone back in, and I quietly shook my head.  Sometimes dealing with children is like unwrapping an inigma inside a conundrum.

It was only a few miles before the sites of Mesa began springing up around us.  In that time I reflected over the events of the last few days.  Looking at it with my adult brain, I considered the possibility that we may have been better off staying at home.  Perhaps we had bitten off more than we could chew here.

As we pulled into our subdivision (and never had it looked so good to me) I turned off the sound, flipped up the TV and said, "Okay, guys.  On a scale of 1-10, how much fun did you have on your vacation?"

"A 10!" Logan enthusiastically yelled.

I admit, I was shocked.  I was leaning toward a 4.

"An 11!" Griffin cheered.

"A 9," Emily added.

"Did you miss your mom a little bit?" I questioned.

"Yeah."

"Yeah.  I get that.  But if your mom had to work anyway and you could have been at home or the cabin, which would it be?"

"The cabin!" she smiled.

And that's when I knew with certainty that children and adults do not see the world in the same way.  Not at all.  And that's a great thing.  Because while I take away some battle scars from this trip, they are simply taking away great memories.  And that makes it all worth it.  Every little bit.