by Focus
© 2000 Focus, all rights reserved
Something is wrong with my folks. I can feel it. Don't really know how I know, but I do.
When I come in the room, they do not talk to each other. They talk to me, but not to each other. Mommy's eyes are kinda red and puffy. Daddy looks stubborn. I ask what's wrong.
"Nothin's wrong, Pumpkin!" Daddy says. "Want to go outside for a bit, and have me push you on the swing?"
I say okay, and we go swing. Daddy pushes me, but his mind isn't there with me. Everything I say, I have to say twice. So I stop talking to him, and he pushes me in silence. I don't think he is mad at me, but I'm not sure. Maybe he is mad at Mommy?
When we come back in, Daddy sends me to my room, and tells me to play with my dolls. Usually I love to play with my dolls, but today I just lie on the bed and hug my teddy bear. I have a big brown teddy bear, almost as big as I am. It is good to hug.
Through the wall I can hear voices. Mommy and Daddy are talking now. They are talking very quiet. I can't hear the words, just the sound. The sound is hard. The sound is unhappy. I wish I knew what is wrong!
A door slams. A car goes out of our driveway fast. The tires squeal! I look out the window. It was Daddy's car.
At dinner time Mommy fixes me chicken noodle soup. I love chicken noodle soup, and Mommy does too. But tonight she doesn't eat any. She says she just doesn't feel hungry.
Soon it is bedtime. Mommy reads me a story and tucks me in. I ask her, "Where is Daddy? Why did he leave so fast?" Mommy says he just remembered something he forgot. She says not to worry about it. She tells me to sleep tight. She gives me a real hard hug, and I hug her back. I feel water on her cheek. She says, "Goodnight, sweetie," and she turns out the light.
I hug my teddy bear, and try to go to sleep. But I can't. Everything seems okay. But it is not. I wish I knew what is wrong.