Lucy and I celebrated her first day of Summer Vacation by heading out of town together for a day of girl fun. She did some art with her Aunt Annie and Uncle Rog, we looked around for birds, and she got the poop scared out of her by a donkey looking for a snack. His nibbley lips did not impress our girl. After our donkey scare, we visited with Grampa Rod. He beat her soundly at Go-Fish. On our way home we stopped for some dinner and a quick game of shuffle puck. Truly a good day with my sweet girl.
After that, we drove home in some of Oregon’s "spring rain". By that I mean a heinous monsoon style deluge in which the car hydroplaned twice. In order to see out my windshield, I was reduced to below speed limit driving. Boo. All the while Lucy grilled me about my parents being divorced. “Why doesn’t Grampa Rod live with Gramma Carole? Is Gramma Terry your real mom too? Can I have a step-mom too? How much did they fight? A lot? All the time? Or just sometimes? If you and Daddy fight, will you get a divorce?” I know to her it is interesting and curious and she is just trying to figure out how the whole thing works, but rehashing that period of my early years sucks.
It almost feels like she is trying to get some sort of formula for how it happened. She will ask a question about my parents, and apply it to Kenneth and me. Today she asked me where I would move if I got “too tired of being married to Daddy”. I told her I wouldn’t get tired of Daddy. She pressed on, “Okay, but what if you did get tired. Would you go to California like Gramma Carole?” I should have put it into bird terms for her. “I am not a migratory mommy dear.” I didn’t think of that though. There is always next time…
I tried my best to get her to move on to another subject. Birthday party planning usually works, but not when she is on one of her divorce info mining expeditions. I should have asked her if she knew where babies come from, but she probably would have found a way to weave divorce or “diborce” back into the conversation. After a while, I just stopped answering and she fell asleep. Maybe not my best parenting, but I was in the weeds.
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