At my daughter’s third birthday pool party, she suddenly pointed at my stepmother’s stomach and announced, “Daddy’s in there.” I laughed at first, until I realized exactly WHAT she was pointing at.
For Paisley’s third birthday, my husband, Trevor, and I decided not to make a huge fuss. We kept the celebration at home and invited everyone over for a family pool party.
A few of Paisley’s preschool friends came, along with nearly the entire family. Before long, the backyard was packed. Children were splashing around in the pool, adults were gathered around the food table, and people kept moving between the water and the lounge chairs.
Even my stepmother, Rosalyn, came.
That caught me more off guard than I wanted to admit.
Rosalyn had married my father fifteen years earlier, when I was still a rebellious teenager, and she had NEVER really liked me. I couldn’t name one specific thing I had done to make her dislike me. We simply never connected, and after years of uncomfortable interactions, keeping our distance became easier than pretending we were close.
Still, it was Paisley’s birthday. When Rosalyn arrived, I was honestly happy that she had bothered to come.
For a while, everything went perfectly.
The kids played in the pool. Everyone ate. Paisley ran around with her friends as if she had enough energy to power the entire backyard.
Then Rosalyn climbed out of the pool wearing a gorgeous ONE-PIECE swimsuit.
Almost at that exact moment, Paisley came racing past with several other children who were heading toward the ice cream.
She suddenly stopped.
Her eyes locked onto Rosalyn.
Then she pointed directly at ROSALYN’S STOMACH and yelled loudly enough for almost everyone nearby to hear:
“Mommy, Daddy’s in there!”
Everyone started laughing.
So did I.
For maybe two seconds, I assumed it was simply another completely ridiculous thing a three-year-old had said. The kind of strange sentence that eventually becomes a family story everyone jokes about for years.
Then I realized how embarrassing it sounded.
I quickly walked over, gently pushed Paisley’s pointing hand down, and explained that it wasn’t polite to point at someone’s stomach.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I said, trying to lead her back toward the other children.
Paisley refused to move.
She planted both feet on the ground, her little face becoming tense.
“But DADDY’S IN THERE! You have to save him!”
A few people laughed again, but this time there was confusion mixed in with the laughter.
Trevor was standing nearby, watching the scene unfold with a helpless shrug.
I pointed toward him.
“Sweetheart, Daddy is right there. Look.”
Paisley turned toward Trevor.
Then she looked back at Rosalyn.
And all at once, she began CRYING.
This wasn’t her usual dramatic crying because she wanted another serving of ice cream. Something was genuinely wrong. She looked scared, upset, and frustrated, and that was when the whole situation stopped being funny.
“Daddy’s on her stomach!” she kept repeating.
I crouched beside her and tried to soothe her, but Paisley refused to drop it.
Rosalyn rolled her eyes.
She muttered that Paisley was talking nonsense, then walked over to her lounge chair and stretched out as though the entire situation wasn’t worth another moment of her attention.
I stayed beside Paisley, desperately trying to figure out what she believed she had seen.
Then she grabbed my hand.
Her tiny fingers wrapped tightly around mine, and before I could react, Paisley started pulling me across the poolside toward Rosalyn’s lounge chair.
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Type POOL and I’ll continue.
(I know you’re curious about the next part, so please be patient and read on in the comments below.)
