Hippopotamus

“I’m sorry, we’ll try to keep it down,” Mom said to the librarian. “She gets excited at the end. Honey, let’s use our inside voices, okay?”

“Okay,” I said. Then whispered, still with the same fervor, “But YES the hippopotamus!”

“That’s a great book,” the librarian said. They had short hair and square glasses, and looked really tall and imposing standing over the little table we were sitting at in the kids’ section. “I used to read my nephew all of Boynton.”

“It’s her favorite,” Mom said. “She loves saying hippopotamus.”

“It’s a big word,” the librarian said. Then they bent down and looked at me. “Do you like big words?” 

“No,” I said, drawing closer to Mom. 

“Yes you do, Samantha,” Mom said, giving me a squeeze. “Remember Mary Poppins? What does she say?”

“Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious,” I said proudly, only stumbling on a couple of sounds. 

“Wow,” said the librarian. “Are you in kindergarten?”

I shook my head. 

“She’s starting preschool in the fall, isn’t that right?” Mom said.

“Are you excited?” the librarian asked me.

I nodded. I still didn’t like having to talk to strangers, but if Mom was talking to them, it must be okay.

“What about you?” they asked Mom. “I bet you’re excited to have a little time on your hands.”

Mom laughed. “Yeah, it’s tough having to raise her on my own, even though she is a good kid.”

I was growing frustrated with all the grown up talk, especially because they were talking about me like I wasn’t there.

“Mo-om,” I whined. 

“Okay, honey. Let’s finish the book,” Mom said. “You want to read the last page?”

I turned the thick cardboard page. “But not the armadillo!”

“Quietly,” Mom reminded me.

“But not the armadillo,” I whispered.

“She’s good at reading for a preschooler,” said the librarian.

“Oh, she’s not reading, she has this one memorized,” Mom said. “Why don’t you go pick out another book, okay?”

I got up from the little wooden chair. So did Mom, but she did slower than me, going from a crouch with her knees up to her chest to standing. Now that they were next to each other, I could see the librarian was actually shorter than Mom.

I moseyed over to the board book section and looked for something I liked. Maybe Barnyard Dance. 

The adults were still talking about me when I got back with book in hand. They were standing, which was annoying because they were so much taller than me. I decided to change the topic.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” I asked the librarian.

“Sam!” Mom said, but the librarian just chuckled.

“I’m a girl,” said the librarian.

“Oh,” I said, disappointed.

“Would you prefer if I was a boy?” she said. 

“If you’re a girl you can’t be my new daddy,” I said. 

Mom put her face in her hands. The librarian looked at her and chuckled. 

“You know, some kids have two mommies or two daddies,” she said. 

“What about three mommies?” I said, holding on to my mom’s leg.

She laughed again. “Yeah, some kids have three mommies too.  Or two moms and a dad. Or two dads and a mom.”

“What about four?” I said. 

“Well, I’ve never met anyone with four mommies, but I guess there’s probably someone out there,” the librarian said. “Would you like to have four mommies?”

I thought about it. “Yes, because then I could play with them all the time when Mom’s working on her computer.”

“That’s a good answer,” she said.

“I don’t think I could date three people at once,” Mom said, laughing. “I can barely handle dating one.”

“Are you seeing someone?” the librarian asked. 

Mom sighed. “No, it’s just been crappy dates so far. No one wants to date a single woman with a kid.”

“Well, I think if they met the kid they would change their minds,” the librarian said to both of us.

“Yeah, online dating is just...ugh. People judging you on a snapshot and a few lines,” Mom said.

“Yeah, it wasn’t for me either,” the librarian said. “I’m Joyce, by the way.”

Mom took her offered hand and shook it, slowly. “Karen. And you already know Samantha.” 

Joyce also put out her hand to me, and I reached up and shook it.

“Now can we read?” I said, holding out the book.

“You know this one, why don’t you read it to us?” Mom said. She looked at Joyce. “If you’re not busy.”

“I would love to hear you read,” the librarian said. “I’m just shelving books right now, I can do that any time.”

I looked from one grown up to another and gulped. I wasn’t sure I knew all the words in the book, and I didn’t want to mess up in front of a stranger. 

“I’ll help you if you get stuck,” Mom reassured me. We all sat down at the table, the adults looking funny with their legs all bent up like frogs.

I made it through the book only stumbling over a few lines, which Mom helped me with. When we were done I looked up. “Another one?”

“It’s almost closing time, Sam, we’d better get going,” said Mom. 

I pouted. “Can we come back and see Joyce tomorrow?” 

Mom looked at Joyce and smiled. “I think we have time. Are you going to be here tomorrow?”

“Six days a week,” the librarian said. 

“Well, I’m glad we know where to find you,” Mom said. She got up again with an oof, and she held out her hand to help Joyce to her feet. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“I’ll be waiting here,” said Joyce with a smile. “Did you want to check anything out?”

“No, I think we’ll use this as an excuse to come back,” Mom said. “Maybe tomorrow you could recommend me some adult fiction.”

“I’ll think about it tonight,” the librarian said. “Who’s your favorite author?”

“Probably Virginia Woolf,” Mom said. Joyce smiled even bigger.

“I love her too,” she said. “I’ll see if I can find something Woolfy for you.”

“Mo-om,” I said again. She always said goodbye then ended up talking for twenty minutes after.

“Alright, we’ve gotta go,” said Mom. “I think this one’s getting crabby. I better feed her.”

The whole time we walked home, and even when she was cooking dinner, Mom couldn’t stop smiling.