October Halloween Exclusive - "Catching" - Part 4

“You’ve got chocolate on your face!”

“So do you!”

Both Harper and Avery enjoy their breakfast, and Harper feels a little silly for not having thought of Nutella toast in the first place. It’s much easier than French toast, and tastes so good! Of course, Avery couldn’t have made it by herself. She’s not allowed to use the toaster, she’s not allowed to play with knives.

And so Harper had made them both two slices, along with a cup of milk for Avery and a coffee for herself.

Coffee was easy – easier than Nutella toast, in fact – because Avery’s mom and dad have a Nespresso machine. Harper added the pod and pressed the button. And just like magic, the coffee poured into the mug. Then she added creamer and sugar, and ended up with something so sweet and wonderful that Avery looked jealous.

“I wish I could have coffee,” Avery declares, chocolate spread on her mouth and cheeks.

“Only for grown-ups,” replies Harper, with a similar mess of chocolate on her face.

The coffee helps. The sugar helps, and Harper feels better. Clearer. Sitting at the kitchen table, wearing the chenille bathrobe that feels soft as…well, as soft as Avery’s unicorn pajamas, Harper is sure that her earlier lapses were nothing serious. Finish watching Avery, then get home and get some rest.

“All done?” Harper asks the little girl, and Avery nods.

“Come here.” She wipes Avery’s face with a cloth.

“You’re chocolatey too,” Avery says, but not accusingly.

“I’m fine. Go bring me a hairbrush and hair ties so we can make you look extra pretty.”

Good as gold, Avery scurries to the bathroom while Harper wipes at her own mouth with the cloth. The girl was right, a little bit of chocolate there. But it’s easy to be messy when you’re eating Nutella.

Avery returns to the kitchen carrying a red box.

Harper raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a hairbrush.”

The little girl jumps up and down and the box contents rattle inside. “It’s the cupcake game, wanna play?”

“I want to brush your hair. You look like a ragamuffin.”

Avery purses her lips. “What’s a rama..guffin?”

Harper takes the box and puts it on the table. “Hairbrush. Hair ties. Now.”

The little girl leaves the kitchen, more slowly this time, and more loudly as well, stomping her little feet up the stairs.

Harper goes to the laundry room and switches the laundry into the dryer, and then she goes to the kitchen and clears the table of breakfast things. She sits down to finish her coffee, looking at the red box. It’s decorated with Disney Princesses. Harper reads the italicized description, “Mix, match and make cuh…cup…cupcakes…in time for the par…party.” It’s hard to read the writing, it’s all squint. And what party are they talking about? She turns the box over, and there’s a picture of two little girls playing the game that brings a smile to Harper’s face, but there’s also a lot more reading!

Avery reappears with the fabled brush and hair-ties. Harper brushes the little girl’s red hair until it shines, and then arranges into pigtails. “Cute as a button,” she announces, although if she’s completely honest, the pigtails are a little uneven. Okay, they’re a lot uneven. Harper shrugs. The girl is four, it really doesn’t matter.

“Can we play the game now?” asks Avery, eyeing the red box.

“It looks complicated,” says Harper. “How about you play with your Barbies, hmm?”

Avery shakes her head. “Wanna play cupcake party.”

Harper peers at the box. So much writing, it just looks so complicated. Searching for an excuse, she says, “We just had breakfast, Avery, I don’t think we should play the cupcake game until we’re hungry again.”

The little girl gives her an incredulous look. “It’s…it’s not real, Harper.” She points at the picture on the box that shows the plastic game pieces. “It’s pretend.”

Harper blushes. “Yeah, I know, I just mean…”

“It’s not hard,” says Avery, “I can show you.”

Harper glares at the child. “I don’t need you to show me.”

“Yeah, I know, I-“

“No,” says Harper severely. “You don’t know. You’re four. I’m…” And for a moment, Harper is lost in the numbers. How old is she? She can’t put her finger on it. “I’m a grown-up. You’re just a little girl.”

Avery opens her mouth, apparently to protest the point.

Harper cuts her off, jabbing her finger and announcing, “I don’t need help from a little girl who can’t even keep her panties dry. From a dumb little bed-wetter.”

Avery closes her mouth. Her lips wobble, her skin pales.

Harper sighs. What’s wrong with her? Too much coffee? “Avery, I’m sorry.” She reaches out but the girl steps back.

“Was an accident,” Avery whispers. Fat tears roll down her cheeks.

“I know,” says Harper. And it was my accident.

“Didn’t mean it.”

“Sweetie, I know.” This time she picks Avery up and holds her, goes into the living room and sits down, planting the girl on her knee. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I know you’re a big girl. Even big girls have accidents sometimes.” Trust me, I know. She wipes Avery’s tears with her finger.

“Mommy won’t give me the pencil case,” Avery whispers.

Harper jiggles the girl lightly on her knee. “Of course she will! You’ll be putting crayons in that fuzzy pink thing before you know it.”

Avery shakes her head, her lop-sided pigtails tickling Harper’s face. “No. Mommy says if I wet the bed, I don’t get treats.” She exhales with dramatic force and shudders, revealing the terrible, terrifying news in a whisper so soft Harper only just hears it. “Mommy says she’s gonna make me wear diapers.”

Oh. Oh, great. It was me. Honey, I wet the bed.

But Harper doesn’t say it. She can’t bear it, and neither can she bare to see the little girl so mournful.

“Look, honey.” She holds the girl tightly in her arms. “Your clothes are in the dryer, almost done. Mommy doesn’t have to…look, I just won’t tell her, okay.”

Another shake of the head. “Mommy knows everything,” she says simply. She turns around and says, “I won’t be a unicorn for Halloween and I won’t get my new pencil case.”

Okay. You’re killing me. Come on, kid.

And then Harper smiles. “I promise you’ll be a unicorn for Halloween.” She holds up the little finger of her right hand. “I can pinkie promise.”

Avery looks hopeful but isn’t entirely convinced. “How?”

“I’ll show you.” Harper shifts Avery off her lap and says, “Sit tight, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Avery nods, the color returning to her face.

Harper runs to the master bedroom and gets the mom’s Halloween outfit from the closet. Grinning, she takes it to the bathroom, takes off the rob, and steps into the legs of the adult-sized unicorn onesie. She’s about to pull it up when she feels an urge to urinate.

All that coffee! Harper giggles, and sits down on the toilet. And when she starts to pee, she remembers something very important.

Her dream. She closes her eyes as both her mind and body light up with pleasure. The unicorn from her dream…the unicorn is back! Silly, fuzzy unicorn with the glassy eyes and dumb smile. Telling Harper, as urine rushes into the toilet bowl, that she is such a sweet girl, such a sweet and silly little thing.

Harper giggle and shakes her head. She’s not silly, she’s a grown-up.

But she feels silly, all the same. She feels wonderful. Even sitting on hard toilet set, she feels surrounded by cuddly softness.

Such a good girl. Such a lovely, pretty, and silly little girl. Isn’t she?

Harper feels her head nod. She’s a big girl, really, but inside her head, she’s allowed to be little, the unicorn says so.

Good girl! Good, silly, little girl! And what do little girls need?

She stops peeing but the lovely feelings remain for a few more precious seconds, and Harper sits on the toilet, her head low, smiling at nothing but her added thoughts. Her funny, fuzzy unicorn friend.

A question remains. Blinking groggily, Harper gets dressed, pulling up the onesie and managing to thread her hands through the sleeves. She pulls the zipper with a glowing sense of pride at having dressed herself, and then she turns to look in the mirror.

What was the question?

She looks at her reflection, and it’s easy to remember. Her eyes are just as glassy and vacant as the unicorn’s, her smile just as dumb.

What do little girls need?

Harper produces a high-pitched giggle. They need their mom and dady of course!

Harper admires her reflection. All fuzzy and blue, just like Avery will be. She feels a flicker of disappoint at her long, dark brown hair. No pigtails. But Mom can can fix that. She feels a warm glow of reassurance and excitement. Mom can fix everything!

She runs to the master bedroom and finds her phone. She stares down at the screen. There are notifications. Her eyes widen. Missed calls from Mom!

And then, just like magic, the phone buzzes.

Harper is so clever, she knows to wipe at the green thing with her finger. She holds the phone to her ear and says, “Hi!”

“Hey, sweetie,” her mother replies. And the voice , wonderful and soothing, is also something of a wake-up call. “How you doing over there?”

Harper twirls her hair with her free fingers and holds the phone with her other hand. “Good,” she says simply.

Her frown deepens. Isn’t she supposed to be working? She says, “Why did you call, Mommy? Did you-“ And then she trails off, her face reddening. Doesn’t she call Mommy “Mom?” Because she’s a big girl?

Her mother doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, her tone changes to something lighter, almost musical.

“Mommy just wants to know, are you having fun at your sleepover?”

Harper blinks. “Huh?”

Her mother laughs softly. “Your sleepover, honey. Avery invited you, remember? You stayed the night.”

“Oh.” Is that right? The story seems strange, slippery in her head. Harper continues to twirl her hair. It’s soothing, it helps her concentrate. She says finally, “We made Nutella toast.”

“Yummy! And are you being a good girl?”

That’s easy to answer. “Uh-huh! I made the toast all by myself and Avery…Avery got sad but I made her…I’m gonna make her happy again…” She sways lightly on her feet and then she giggles. “Mommy I got dressed all by myself and everything!”

“Oh, my!” says her mother, sounding suitably impressed. “And what are you wearing today? Did you dress up like a pretty princess for Daddy?”

Harper finds this idea both hilarious and wonderful, and she squeals with delight. “Mommy, I’m a unicorn! Just like Avery!”

Her mother makes approving sound. “That’s perfect. Two sweet and silly unicorns for Halloween.” There’s a pause, and then her mother says, “And are you feeling sweet and silly, Harper? Are you going potty like a good girl?”

Harper blinks in confusion. Of course she’s going potty. She always goes potty. She nods her head.

“Harper? You still there?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Are you remembering to go potty?”

“Yes, Mommy.” She blushes at her bed-wetting memory, but she doesn’t have to tell her mother about that. Would her mommy threaten her with diapers, just like Avery’s mommy? Harper shakes her head. “I just went, I did it on the big toilet and everything!”

“Good girl,” says her mother. “Keep on going potty, whenever you feel the need, okay? Don’t hold it in. Good girls always go potty.”

Harper blinks. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good girl. Where’s Avery, honey?”

“She’s downstairs…Mommy, I gonna show her my costume!”

Her mother laughs indulgently. “I bet she’s going to love it. You’ll be like two peas in a pod. Okay, Mommy and Daddy will be there soon, okay honey. We’re going to bring you home.”

The call ends, and Harper stuffs the phone into the side-pocket of her onesie. And then she grins. She races to the laundry room, pulls Avery’s onesie from the dryer, and then runs back to the living room. She’s a little annoyed to find that Avery has opened the box with the cupcakes game and has put the pieces all over the rug, but Harper has bigger news to share than a silly game.

“Look!” Harper shouts excitedly, standing proudly in the fuzzy blue pajamas, holding Avery’s outfit in her hands. “Look Avery, we gonna be peas inna pod!”

Avery looks up, her mouth dropping open. She points and giggles. “You got jammies like me!” And then she frowns. “But you’re a grown-up.”

In that moment, Harper looks down at her outfit, thinks about the conversation with her mother, and understands that she is in the deepest of trouble.