Fuzzy Socks

              Five-year-old Dolly was playing with a variety of Hot Wheels in the hallway that led to her bedroom, lining the small cars up along the creases of the hardwood floor. Revving each car’s imaginary motor with the vibration of her tiny hand, preparing them for an extremely intense race. Exactly like the cars her daddy watched on TV every Sunday.

              Dolly didn’t think the race her daddy was so invested in was very interesting. It kept her entertained trying to figure out what was so interesting about watching loud cars go around and around in a circle. Her race was much better than that boring TV show.

              In Dolly’s race, that was aired to an audience through Dolly’s eyes, you got to know the small invisible drivers. Dolly had given them each a personality based on the type of car it was or the color. The grey van was driven by a big guy that wore a red bandana and a white tank top and he sold s’mores out of his van when he wasn’t racing. He was her second favorite because he was nice and smelled like marshmallows. The white convertible had a mean blonde woman behind the wheel who was really good at driving because her car always went straight down the hallway. The blue race car was driven by a guy who only thought about racing, and he was really good, too. a green pickup truck was driven by her daddy, and it was her favorite. Dolly imagined that this was what her father was doing at work and that every time he lost on this track he lost for real. If he kept losing, he was going to get fired, so the stakes were high.

              Dolly announced to the audience that the race car had the worst odds, and the green truck had the best, even though the race car always made it to the end of the hall while the truck hit the wall.

              Dolly placed her tiny fingers so that they were touching all four cars.

              “Five, four, three, two…” she bent lower over the cars mentally wishing the green pickup good luck, “one!”

              She pushed them as hard as she could down the hallway, her face falling in disappointment as her daddy’s truck veered off the track and into the wall while the race car driver finished in first place again at her bedroom door. Dolly crawled over to the truck.

              “It’s okay, Daddy,” She said to it as she picked it up to examine the wheels, “you can try again, you’ll win next time!”

              Dolly gathered the cars, lining them back up in different positions.

              “Maybe you’ll do better in the middle.”

              She positioned the truck perfectly between the van and the convertible when she heard the heavy footsteps of her father enter through the front door. Dolly heard him greet her mother and head her way, normally she would have run to him, but she was too focused on saving her father’s job to greet him.

              “Oh, what’s this?” Her father appeared in the doorway of the hall.

              “My race!” Dolly jumped up, quickly hugging him as he bent down before returning her attention back to the small cars.

              “Your race?” He laughed, “who’s winning?”

              “The blue car.” She pouted.

              “You don’t want the race car to win?” he grinned.

              “No!” Dolly pointed at the green pickup, “I want you to win but you won’t keep it on the track! If you lose this time you’re going to get fired, daddy!”

              He looked at the truck and laughed, “oh, I didn’t know! I swear I’ll do better this time, let’s give it a shot.”

              Dolly put her hands on the cars again and pushed hard. The truck stayed in the middle, arriving at the bedroom door finish line beside the blue race car.

              “It’s a tie!” Her father clapped.

              “What’s a tie mean?”

              “It means they both won! Now you just need a tie breaker.”

              He gathered the blue car and the truck and put them at the start line.

              “All you have to do is race these two and whoever wins breaks the tie.”

              “Okay!” Dolly placed her hand on the two cars, “ready, Daddy?”

              “Ready.”

              They bowed low over the cars watching the finish line.

              “Five,” Dolly started, and her father joined in, “four, three, two…ONE!”

              Dolly sent the two cars down the hallway with an extra hard push. They smashed into each other, and the race car was sent reeling into the wall as the truck passed the finish line.

              “Yay!” They applauded the truck’s victory.

              “You did it daddy!”

              “I sure did!” He laughed while hugging his daughter. He collected the cars and handed them back to her. He patted her on the head as she lined up the cars back up excitedly for the next race, he stood up, “I’m going to talk to your mommy, baby.”

              “Okay, Daddy!”

              Dolly always found their talks boring and she could never get a word in. They always told her not to interrupt or to go play so she was fine playing in the hallway, she just wished her daddy would have played with her longer. She couldn’t wait till bedtime when she had both her parents’ full attention.

              Dolly raced the cars down the hardwood track of the hallway several times before her parents hushed, serious tones drifted down the hallway and caught her attention. The talking had been background noise until boredom seized her little mind and the game was no longer as much fun.

              Dolly thought of a new game now: spy. She could tell by the tone of their voices her parents did not want to be interrupted. Dolly crawled slowly, quietly to the open archway of the hallway, hiding behind the wall. She covered her mouth to keep from giggling. They didn’t know she was there because she was a spy.

              “What do you think?” She heard her father ask.

              There was silence for a moment.

              “I think you’re getting cold feet.”

              “What, I am not getting cold feet,” he laughed.

              “Well, it is a big change, moving, taking on more work. It’s kind of scary.”

              “Yeah.”

              “I’m okay with whatever decision you make. We’re…”

              “What?”

              “Dolly?” Her mother called for her.

              Dolly froze.

              If she answered while she was hiding, they’d know she’d been spying, and she wasn’t about to be a bad spy.

              “I don’t hear her cars anymore.”

              Dolly heard someone get up from the kitchen table and footsteps come closer.

              “Doll?” Her mother turned the corner, “what are you-oh!”

              She jumped in surprise and Dolly giggled.

              “You little sneak!” She put her hand over her startled heart.

Her father came up behind her “spying on us, are you?”

He reached down and scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder. She laughed as he carried her down the hallway to her bedroom where they played until it was time to get ready for bed.

Dolly lay there thinking about how her mother had said her father had cold feet, and how it was scary. How serious was it to have cold feet? They sounded serious when they were discussing her father’s feet and the thought of her parents being scared made her anxious.

Why couldn’t they just warm them up? Why were they scared of such a simple problem even she could figure out?

She rubbed her tiny warm feet together under the blanket. Maybe they needed her help. She thought about how happy they’d be when she gave them the answer to their problem. She smiled and fell asleep.

While she waited for her father to return home from work, she snagged a pair of pink fuzzy socks from her mother’s drawer and her warmest blanky from her bed. She wrapped the socks up in the blanky and it in her closet. She asked after her father all day and finally her mother had taken off her watch.

“When the little hand is on the five and the big hand is on the six, Daddy will be home.”

She was drawing pictures with her mother, the watch long forgotten by her side, when they heard her father come home.

“There’s Daddy!” Her mother exclaimed.

Dolly stood up ready to gather everything she needed to help her father as soon as she could. She nervously looked from her closet to the bedroom door, hearing her father walk down the hallway. She froze and just looked at the door, unsure of what to do. Her mother stared at her in confusion. When he came through the door he smiled broadly at his daughter.

“Hi, baby girl!”

“Hi, Daddy!” She said a little too loudly.

“She’s been asking for you all day,” her mother said, “now, she’s being shy.”

“Aw, you’re not shy with Dad! I missed you,” he kissed her head, “what are you drawing?”

“It’s me, you, and Mommy!”

“Oh!” He gasped, “it sure is! It’s beautiful!”

“You like it?”

“I love it!”

They played for a long time before her parents retired to the living room to relax and have dinner. Dolly was settled into her imagination before she remembered her father’s feet. She gathered the blanket with the fuzzy socks wrapped safely inside and rushed to the living room. She found her parents sitting on the couch.

“Hi, baby,” her mother greeted her, “what do you have there?”

“For Daddy.”

Dolly bent down and put the blanket around her father’s feet and handed him the fuzzy pink socks. Her parents stared at her in confusion.

“You wear these when you’re not home, and your feet won’t get cold anymore!” Dolly told them with a proud smile.

Realization hit both her parents and they laughed. They reached for her, and both held her close.

“Thank you, baby, this is the best.” He turned to his wife, “no cold feet. I’m taking the job.”

She gave him a beautiful smile and kissed Dolly on the head.

When he accepted the position that would change his and his family’s life the next day, he would smile and lift his pant leg to reveal a fuzzy pink sock.