Answering Machine

“Allie, sweetie, hurry up and finish your waffle so we won’t be late,” Lindsay instructed from the opposite side of the kitchen. Allie stared down at her half-eaten bits of waffle and scrunched her face, pushing the pieces around in a puddle of syrup.

“I don’t wanna,” she refused, dropping her fork to cross her arms over her chest in a huff. I smiled at her antics, under a glare from Lindsay, and leaned out of my chair and closer to Allie’s.

“Hey,” I said, picking the fork back up and holding it out for her to take, “can you try to finish some more bites of your waffle? You don’t want to be late, do you?”
Allie shook her head slowly, her blonde curls swinging gently back and forth against her rosy cheeks.

“Mommy says I always have to try my vewy best not to be late,” she informed me, before reluctantly taking her fork back and poking at the cut up waffle on the plate in front of her. I glanced briefly at Lindsay, offering her a small smile, which miraculously seemed to ease the anxiety away from her face.

“Mommy is very right,” I told her while she began to eat the rest of her breakfast, before looking back across the kitchen at Lindsay, frowning at her agitated expression. “Linds, go ahead and go to work. I’m perfectly capable of getting Allie to preschool.”

Her face twisted unsurely, until she eventually nodded in agreement.

“Fine,” she stated, picking up her bag and her keys from the counter in front of her, “but please, John, make sure she’s not late. I’ll pick her up on my way home.”

“She won’t be late,” I promised. Allie interrupted to announce that she was finished with her waffle, so I told her to go brush her teeth and get her things for school.

As soon as she had scampered off to do as told, I stood up and moved towards Lindsay, leaning against the counter a few feet from her.

“We need to talk,” I reminded her before she could make a dash for the door.

“I know, John,” she sighed, hoisting one of her bags to her shoulder, “I know. I told you, I just need to think, okay?”

“Sure, take your time,” I drawled, partially sarcastically. She shot me a weary, halfhearted smile before heading towards the hallway. I listened with a small smile as Lindsay said goodbye to Allie and assured her that she would pick her up at the end of the day.

As soon as I heard the door shut, I ran my hands through my hair and let out a frustrated sigh. When did things get so difficult? Why did things have to be so difficult? I whisked Allie’s breakfast plate from the table and dumped it into the sink so I could at least begin to rinse the sticky syrup mess from its surface.

“Daddy!” I heard Allie cry from the front hallway. I immediately froze and dropped the soapy plate back into the sink, and dashed towards the front door. As soon as I made it to her, I heaved with relief as I noticed she simply seemed to be struggling with the art of getting her shoes on correctly. I smiled and sat down on the floor next to her as she looked up at me with a frustrated pout.

“This shoe,” I told her, holding up the sneaker for her right foot, “goes on this foot.” I pointed to her right foot and handed the shoe back to her, and she stuffed her foot into it, smiling proudly once she had done so. She then stuck her foot out at me, insisting that I tie it, to which I obliged, before doing the same for her left sneaker.

“I’m ready!” she finally, once she had successfully adorned both of her feet with her new pink and white sneakers. I smiled and scooped her up off the floor, carrying her to the kitchen, laughing as she shrieked and giggled the entire way.

“Okay,” I said, setting her down on the floor while I located my own shoes, “where’s your backpack?”

Allie grinned and pointed to the pink bag, adorned with images of Disney Princesses, which sat on the floor in the corner. I picked up the bag that, in reality, served no purpose – except Allie loved to carry it with her to preschool because it made her feel like a “big kid,” and who were Lindsay and I to stop her? – and handed it to her.

As soon as I found my shoes and I was positive of the fact that Allie was completely, one hundred percent ready, the two of us made our way outside to my car, where I let Allie climb into her car seat before buckling her in and getting in the car myself.

During the ten-minute drive to her preschool, Allie was absolutely full of questions. She asked me about places I saw, demanding that I describe them to her in detail, and she asked when the rest of the guys (although she referred to them as her Uncles, regardless of the obvious lack of relation) would come over to play with her. I answered each and every one of her questions, telling her as much as I could remember about every city I had been in, and I promised her that at least one of her ‘uncles’ would visit her soon.

When we got to her preschool, I parked and helped her out of her car seat, making sure she didn’t forget her ever-important princess backpack, before she grabbed my hand and began skipping to the front doors.

“Mr. O’Callaghan,” one of the preschool teachers, Ms. Gardener, greeted with a smile as soon as we stepped inside, “it’s so good to see you again. I bet Allie is so happy to have you back.”

Allie grinned up at her teacher, nodding profusely.

“Daddy told me all about the places he saw, and one day I’m gonna see ‘em, too!” she exclaimed with bounds of excitement. Ms. Gardener smiled between the two of us before excusing herself to gather the rest of the students.

“Be good today, okay?” I instructed, squatting down to reach Allie’s eye level. She nodded her head and told me she would be, and I smiled. “That’s my girl. Mommy will pick you up later, and I’ll see you at home when you get back.”

“’Kay,” she responded, wrapping her arms around my neck in a quick hug, and I could tell she was anxious to join her classmates.

“I love you, Allie,” I reminded her. She smiled at me again and gave me another hug, whispering, “I love you, too,” in my ear, before skipping off with a wave to join her friends. I stood up and waved back to her, watching her for a moment as she pulled a bucket of blocks out from a cabinet and began sorting through them, before tearing my eyes from her to exit the building.

I had never been much of a worrier my entire life, but I was astounded at how real everything my parents had told me became once Allie was born. It was scary how much I worried now; I hated leaving her, even though that was all I ever seemed to be doing, and even when I knew she was safe. It was a marvel what becoming a father had done to me.