Chapter 4 - Lily Started Asking Whether Aunt Carla Had to Watch Her
At seven, Lily asked:
“Can I go to after-school instead of Aunt Carla’s?”
We were driving.
I remember the intersection.
Red light.
Rain.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why?”
“She’s mean.”
I smiled slightly.
Not because I did not care.
Because children call adults mean for:
vegetables,
bedtimes,
turning off tablets.
“What does mean mean?”
“She gets mad fast.”
“Does she hit you?”
Lily hesitated.
My entire body changed.
“Lily?”
“She smacked my hand once.”
“When?”
“When I grabbed cookies.”
I called Carla that night.
She said:
“It was a tap.”
“You hit her hand?”
“I tapped her fingers.”
“I don’t want you doing that.”
“She was grabbing food after I told her no.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters if you want her to learn boundaries.”
“She’s seven.”
“Exactly.”
We argued.
Then Carla said:
“If you don’t trust me, stop bringing her.”
That sentence cornered me.
Not literally.
Emotionally.
Because stopping meant:
after-school tuition,
backup care,
rearranging travel,
telling my boss my availability had changed.
Possible.
Difficult.
Instead I said:
“I’m asking you not to use physical discipline.”
Carla answered:
“Fine.”
I treated:
fine
as:
agreement.
It was not.
May you like
It was resentment postponed.
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