Walking on Eggshells

“Walking on Eggshells”

“Mama, let’s play!” tiny voice shouts, door slamming.
Tired smile replies, “Shhh baby, we must walk on eggshells.”
He sees past her, more than his four years should.
A sight familiar, Daddy sleeping, big bottle loosely in hand.

“That game does not sound fun,” innocence expresses,
crawling into her lap, nuzzling as only a child can.
“Let’s dance through the sand instead, Mommy.”
She kisses his head, saying not a word.

“I know, Mommy, let’s be frogs jumping in puddles.”
A tear escapes, despite her strength.
Tiny lips kiss it away.
Daddy’s snore startles them.

He is careful to whisper this time.
“I’ll be a fish and you be the Mermaid;
we can swim in the sea!”
Arms tighten for comfort her four-year-old brings.

Imagination never lacking, he continues,
“Mommy, we’ll get the blanket and fairy dust,
and go on a magic carpet ride!”
She smiles and cries at the thought.

Stroking her hair, leaning his head on her shoulder.
“We can lay on our backs in the grass touching pinkies,
and make wishes on stars, only telling each other.”
She giggles with him and sobs at her loss of belief.

“We can build a ship from Lincoln Logs and sail away.”
He touches her cheeks with both hands,
meeting her eyes, speaking to her heart.
“But, Mommy, walking on eggshells is not for you and me.”

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