Daisy, Daisy

“Wash up for dinner,” Daisy dropped her voice as low as it could go, shaking the papa Ken doll in her hand. “We’re having mama’s delicious beef stew!”

With her other hand, she reached for the blonde bombshell of a Barbie leaning against the dollhouse’s walls. “That’s right, kids! Hurry along!”

Dropping the parents, she scrambled for the two kids– a knock-off Polly Pocket and a stuffed bear only a smidge larger than her fist, one of his button eyes dangling from a black thread. Changing voices again, the two toys yelled ‘Okay!’ in unison and trotted up the imaginary sidewalk to the house.

“Hey, Daisy. What’s up?” Aide Anna sat down next to her on the floor, criss-cross applesauce. Of all the aides in the daycare, Anna had to be Daisy’s favorite. She didn’t use baby-talk with the toddlers or kindergarteners like Aide Jessie, or ignore you unless you went to her directly like Aide Cindy. She had brown eyes that always wanted to make people smile, just like herself.

“Nothing much,” Daisy’s face screwed up in concentration as she tried to position the dolls’ hands underneath the plastic faucet just so. Now that her focus had been broken, the shrieks of laughter and babble of conversation from the other kids penetrated her thoughts. “Just playing with my dolls.” 

Anna appraised the setup. “What a lovely home.”

“Mama decorated it herself,” the girl tucked a strand of her Lucy Pevensie-esque bob behind her ear. “She really cares about making things pretty.”

“Like someone else I know,” the aide elbowed her light-heartedly. 

She broke into a grin, showing off the gaps in her top row of baby teeth. “Yeah. You wanna meet ‘em?”

“Certainly!” Anna turned back to the toys. “Would you do the honors and introduce us?”

“Mama and papa,” Daisy pointed at the pair, seated at a too-small table smeared with dry-erase markers and buffed by scratches over its many years of service at the facility. “The daughter is Cleo, and the brother is Bruno. Did you know she really wants a dog, but they can’t get one because Bruno’s allergic.”

“Wow. I see you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

Daisy shrugged. “I made ‘em like my family. A little.”

“Very nice. Do you have dinner like this together?”

“Some nights,” and then in papa’s wobbly tenor, “Who would like to say grace?”

Bruno: “I’ll do it!” His whispery voice matched his shy personality. Daisy ducked her head and squeezed her eyes shut, but after a second, they opened and darted over to Anna. “You, too.”

“My bad,” she laughed and dipped her head.

“We’re thankful for this dinner, we’re thankful to mama who made it, we’re thankful we’re all alive to eat it. Octopus. Amen.”

“Octopus?” Anna didn’t succeed in holding back a chuckle. 

“Daddy says we shouldn’t do something called ‘vain repetitions’, so I put in a different word each time,” Daisy stated obviously, squishing Bruno and Cleo in besides their parents. “I like using animals, ‘cause there are so many and it isn’t hard to grab one off the top of your head.”

The scene played out uninterrupted for a minute or so until Daisy remarked, “I like it when my family is this nice.”

Anna agreed. “I grew up with five siblings. We fought all. The. Time. I know my parents appreciated it when we were nice, too.”

Daisy nodded, but her lips pressed into a line. That wasn’t exactly what she meant when she said nice, but when she opened her mouth to explain, the words didn’t appear. Instead she made Cleo remark on how tasty the stew was, and mama thanked her graciously. “I put dumplings in it just for you!”

After another moment: “Did your mommy make you dinner, Aide Anna?”

“A lot of the time. Dad and I helped her out on the days she was busy, though. It didn’t taste nearly as good as when she did it, but I think she appreciated the help. Do you help out with dinner?”

“Not… really.” Daisy could try and explain that most nights, her mommy came by the house for five minutes to drop off a pizza and that was the only time she saw her, and that her daddy rarely left the TV in his room for half an hour at a time, and that she really wished she had a sister or brother who would keep her company while she ate, but that would take too much energy. “But I unload the dishwasher when it’s full.”

“I bet you’re a great helper.” 

Daisy grinned. “Yeah. I am.”

You know,” the aide leaned in, “There are dogs that don’t shed. They’re called hypoallergenic.”

Confusion registered on Daisy’s face until Anna winked and said, “That’s not what’s important right now, though. Okay! Well, it was delightful meeting you all, but I have to get back to work. Let me know if you need anything, sweetie. We’ll be switching with the outside group in ten minutes or so.”

Done so soon? Daisy couldn’t help but wilt a little as the adult stood up and walked over to Aide Cindy, who was busy taking a fistful of pills that Anna said were for bad headaches called migraines. Cindy sure seemed to get them a lot. 

She watched her go, twisting a loose hair absently around her pointer finger. The pervasive noise of the play area interrupted her train of thought again, but this time she listened to the layers and textures of the sound. Tommy had looked at Melissa funny, and she was on the verge of tears. Madison, Gabe, and Joaquin chattered animatedly about the new superhero movie. Kids giggled while they ate their goldfish snacks, and the outside group of children screamed with laughter at their game. 

Given the choice between too loud or too quiet, Daisy would choose the first option any day.

With sudden energy, she picked up the mama doll and exclaimed, “Now– Who wants dessert?”