Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I really tried to make myself take a step forward but found I could not. I had the ridiculous urge to run. But then an ear-splitting scream hit me.
It wasn’t a cry of pain or terror, but instead a full-fledged tantrum. I knew the sound because thus far, there were thirteen grandchildren in my family. Each of my sisters had kids, and I was the one they all called first if they needed backup. Since my sisters had helped mold me, now they counted on my patience, ingenuity, and ability to help. I’d learned many tricks over the years, and number one was how to work around a meltdown. The key was distraction.
Glancing around for the source of the howling, I saw a woman, maybe late-twenties, walking toward the area where I was, looking like a sherpa. She had a fully outfitted hiking backpack on—this was no baby bag I’d ever seen—and was pulling an enormous rolling suitcase with her right hand, while in her left, she had a baby in one of those removable car seats. Behind her, in the middle of the floor, sat a screaming toddler, whom the woman had just stopped for. The little girl in a parka, mittens, red pants, and blue boots had to be around two. Even with a red face, screeching, she still resembled a cherub, albeit a possessed one.
No one seemed to be running to catch up to them or offer assistance. In fact, everyone was giving the child a wide berth, as though she were radioactive.
I changed direction and walked by the mother and over to the toddler.
“Are you hungry?”
The little girl stopped crying, gulped loudly several times, took some deep breaths, rubbed both eyes hard, then nodded.
I turned to her mother. “I have cheese and peanut butter crackers in my bag that I was going to eat on the plane but didn’t get around to it. Would you allow me to share them with your daughter? You can first inspect the unopened package, of course.”
She put the baby down, then basically puddled to the floor of the terminal, put her head in her hands, and started to cry. Loudly.
I got the picture.
I turned my attention to the little girl. “I’m Cooper. Who are you?”
“Gemma.”
“Excellent.” I released the handle of my rolling suitcase and dug into my backpack. “Promise me you will eat them one at a time.”
“I promise,” she agreed, and crossed her heart for good measure.
Fishing out the package, I looked at her mother. “Mom,” I said, raising my voice over her sobbing. “Gemma’s not allergic to peanuts, is she? Because I’m about to give her a snack that is loaded with them.”
Quick shake of her head.
“Okay,” I said, refocusing on the little girl, “first, though, we have to blow our nose, all right?”
She grunted her agreement, which from a toddler, was adorable.
I pulled out two tissues because one just didn’t cut it if you wanted your skin snot-and-booger-free with toddlers. Crouching in front of her, I held the tissues gently to her face and gave the order to blow. She did what all kids do and blew like she was trying to get her brains out through her nose. No amount of saying gently had ever worked with any of my nieces or nephews, so I did not even let the word out of my mouth. I had to get out two more tissues, but once that was done, she breathed in and out and looked a bit better, less blotchy, and I used another to wipe her eyes.
“Okay,” I announced, opening the package and passing the little girl a cracker. The garbage all went into a bag that had previously carried the magazine I bought, gum, and the snack that was being enjoyed by a darling toddler.
“Good job,” I praised her and gave her the package. “And how are we eating those?”
“One at a time,” she parroted my earlier instructions, taking out another.
I smiled at her. “You’re very smart.”
She was a delicate eater, took small bites, and after the third, looked up at me with a cheesy, peanut-buttery-and-crumb smile.
“Okay, good,” I said, smiling at her. “Is it okay if I put you on my suitcase?”
“Uh-huh.” She held her arms out to me.
Putting all my things down, I then unzipped her parka, lifted her up, and placed her face-forward on my rolling suitcase so her little legs were dangling next to the extended handle. Then I had her lean forward and zipped her parka up around the handle so she couldn’t fall back or move, other than to eat. Once that was done, I picked everything up and rolled my suitcase, which had the great wheels so I could keep it upright, back over to her mother, who was still in the middle of the floor.
“Okay, Mom, it’s your turn.”