Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Come here, P,” Larissa calls her over. “Mommy’s sorry for yelling. Will you forgive me?”
“East said you were so, so busy and needed quiet, so we’re going out,” she explains, as if the earlier incident never happened. This kid is a rock star.
“You be a good girl for East, okay?”
“I will.” She turns and places her hand in mine. “Ready?” she asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Ready.” I pick her up and place her on my hip. Grabbing her bag, I toss it over the opposite shoulder. “See you soon, Ris.” I kiss her lips quickly, which has Paisley saying, “Eww cooties,” making us both laugh.
With another round of hugs and goodbyes, I’m able to get Paisley strapped in her seat, and we’re on the road. “What do you want to do today?” I glance quickly in the rearview mirror.
“Umm.” She taps her index finger on her chin. “What do you want to do?”
“We can do anything. What do you do with your mom?”
“We usually go to the grocery store or the park. Sometimes we go shopping for clothes. We’re gonna go soon. Mommy says I need new shoes.”
“What kind of shoes?”
“The kind you tie. I don’t know how to tie them yet, but my other ones are so, so small they hurted my feet. I don’t need them until it gets cold,” she explains. Something I’m sure Larissa has said.
“Well then, how about we head to the mall and get you some shoes?”
“Okay,” she agrees. “Can we get a cookie from that place that smells so, so good. Sometimes Mommy and me stop there. We don’t always, but they are so, so good,” she says, trying to convince me.
What she doesn’t realize is that I need zero convincing. No way can I say no to her. “Cookies it is.” She fills the rest of the ride to the mall with chatter. She has one more game for her T-ball season and her birthday that’s coming up in two weeks.
“What do you want for your birthday?” I ask as I help her unbuckle her car seat.
“Lots of stuff.” She smiles as I place her on my hip. Sure, she can walk, but she won’t be this little forever.
“What kind of stuff?”
“I want an American girl doll. They look just like me, and we can get matching clothes and everything, but they costs lots of dollars. Oh, and Build-A-Bear. Mommy says one day we will go there, too.”
“What’s Build-A-Bear?”
“East, it’s so, so fun. You get to stuff your bear. You get to make it all by yourself and buy it clothes and stuff.”
“Where is this Build-A-Bear place?”
She laughs. “It’s here silly.”
“Well, all right then. First thing’s first, we get you shoes.”
“Mommy don’t buy my shoes here. We get them at the Walmarts.”
“Well, today we’re getting them from the mall.” My heart squeezes in my chest for this little girl and her amazing mother. Larissa busts her ass to take care of Paisley and I’m sure goes without herself. Not anymore. I want to take care of both of them. I want to make it so Larissa doesn’t have to work so hard, so that she can spend more time with her daughter. I want Paisley to have the toys that all the other kids have, the shoes that they have.
“Okay,” she agrees, none the wiser.
The first store we go into I lead her back to the little girls’ shoes, and she spots a pair of white Nikes with a pink swoosh. “Oh, those are really pretty,” she says.
“You like those?”
“Yeah,” she says, eyes wide.
“Can I help you, sir?” one of the store associates asks.
“Yes, we need to measure her to see what size she needs.”
“Sure thing.” He measures her foot, and we ask him for the pink Nikes in her size. “Here you go,” he says, handing me the box.
I place P on the stool and slip off her sandal. “Put this sock on while I get the laces ready.”
“Okay.” She takes the sock, and with a look of pure concentration on her face, she pulls it on her foot. “I did it,” she tells me.
“Great job, Princess. Now let’s try this shoe.” I put it on her foot and lace it up. “Can you walk that way for me so we can see how they feel?”
She nods, hops off the stool and walks up and down the row of shoes. “These are soft,” she says.
“You like them? We can keep looking.”
“No, I like these so, so much.”
“All right, come over here and let me see where your toe is.”
“East,” she giggles loudly, “my toes are in my shoes.” She laughs.
“Get over here, giggle box.” When she’s standing in front of me, I check her toes, and it’s right on. “Can we get these in a half size bigger?” I ask the sales assistant.