Snickerdoodles

For Carlos, there was nothing in the world quite like that gleam of wonder in his daughter’s deep brown eyes. She’d gaze up at him with that almond stare, perced up up on the tips of her toes with her nose crinkled up in the most adorable way, and he couldn’t help but smile.

A few days had passed since that evening she’d rushed over to him, tugging ecstatically at the hem of his button-down. There was that wild air of unbridled excitement written all over her face, and he just knew that, whatever it was that she wanted, he didn’t stand a chance.

“Daddy! Daddy!” she gushed, still jerking at his shirt. “Can we have a tea party?”

Carlos had no earthly idea what exactly went into having a tea party (other than a rag-tag assortment of stuffed animals and imaginary tea), but he knew that he needed so badly to put in that effort. Between his stint in an off-Broadway revival of Rent and the seemingly endless rounds of publicity that accompanied it, he barely got a chance to spend any time at home with his family, and the last thing on earth he wanted to do was rob his children of their father. It was a guilt that he couldn’t seem to escape, a balancing act between being a family man and following his dreams.

He exchanged an overwhelmed glance with his wife, but she simply smiled to herself and continued to set the table.

“Of course we can, snickerdoodle.” He beamed as he stroked the five-year-old’s long black locks. “We’ll have a tea party together this weekend, just you and me.”

She was absolutely delighted with his answer, practically dancing her way back into her bedroom.

“I can bake something for you two,” Victoria offered as she flitted back and forth between the counter and the stove. “I’m glad you’re spending a little more quality time with her. Take it from me, every little girl needs her daddy.”

Though she didn’t mean it in a condescending way, Carlos let his own guilty conscious interpret her words. “You know I don’t mean to be gone all the time.”

“I know…but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re not here.” Victoria sighed as she placed the last glass on the table. “Carlitos! Arabella! Come down for dinner!”

With their son, Carlos hadn’t missed a single thing. He’d been there to help out with the 3 AM feedings and the diaper changes, and he’d been by his wife’s side while they encountered the terrible twos for the first time. He’d helped little Carlos with his batting skills, spent afternoons sprawled out across the carpet while the two of them colored pages in his coloring books. He’d been there for all of the little moments over the course of those first five years, but then again, he also hadn’t had any career obligations at the time. With Arabella, it seemed as though right after he’d begun working on his first solo album, the couple received the call that it was time to fly out to China and finalize her adoption. The two years that followed were a whirlwind of touring, guest appearances, and talk show interviews, and though he was grateful to be able to grant his family the lifestyle they deserved, it definitely came at a cost.

In the same way that children anxiously await Christmas morning or their birthday, little Arabella Pena had counted down the days until her daddy-daughter tea party. Carlos awoke that Saturday morning to the annoying, yappy bark of the neighbors’ dog, and with his eyes still clenched shut, his fingers brushed the stretch of mattress at his side. Though he was a little surprised to find that Victoria was already up and moving, all it took was one heavy breath for him to find her. The delectable scents of peanut butter and cinnamon seeped through his sleep-befuddled brain, and with groggy steps, he carefully made his way downstairs.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she chirped. “Someone’s been waiting for you…”

Carlos trailed her stare to find their daughter still seated at the breakfast table, looking up at him expectantly as she swung her legs back and forth.

“Good morning, guys,” he greeted his children as he settled across the table from Arabella.

“Daddy, daddy! Today’s our tea party!” she exclaimed, and her grin was nothing short of infectious.

“I know, sweetie. Are you excited?”

The little girl nodded vigorously before stopping to reach for her orange juice.

“Arabella, I made you and Daddy some snickerdoodles for your party,” Victoria announced, a knowing smile glued to her lips. The peanut butter cookies were their daughter’s absolute favorite, and she’d snacked on them so often when they first brought her home to the US, the two of them joked that if she kept munching on the sweet treats, she’d end up turning into one. The nickname just happened to stick.

“Yay!”

“And…” his wife began. “Carlitos and I are gonna go to the mall and try to hunt him down some new shoes. Bless his heart, but I’m pretty sure those sneakers are on their last leg.”

In typical seven-year-old boy fashion, Carlos Jr. rolled his syrupy eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. “Mom, do we have to go to the store? It’s so boring.”

“I thought we had a deal,” she prompted. “You get a new pair of shoes, and we can go see Spider-Man after.”

“Okay…”

After breakfast, the mother and son duo were off on their way, leaving Carlos alone with the precocious preschooler. Arabella had just reached that age where she’d developed an obsession with classic Disney films, begging her mother to transform her into a different princess every day. Just yesterday, her sleek ebony locks had been woven into Elsa’s regal braid, and fittingly enough, today she was the spitting image of Alice. A blue gingham sundress cloaked her pixie-like frame while a matching ribbon served as a makeshift headband and black Mary Janes were buckled around her tiny ankles.

Carlos took his little girl’s hand, and with a gentle smile, he said, “Come on, snickerdoodle. I do believe we have a tea party to attend.”

With walls coated a cotton candy pink, tulle canopies, and carpet as soft as lilac petals beneath their feet, Arabella’s bedroom was every young girl’s fantasyland. A table had already been set up for the occasion, a handful of the child’s favorite dolls and teddy bears were seated and waiting, but although Arabella had waited so long to spend this time with her father, there was still one task to attend to before the party could begin.

“Here Daddy, put this on,” she insisted, thrusting a purple feather boa from her dress-up chest in his direction. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go to a fancy tea party in your PJs.”

She sounded so much like her mother in that instance that he couldn’t help but crack a grin. He certainly couldn’t argue with her logic, no matter how itchy the feathers were, so he conceded, tossing the brightly-colored boa over his shoulder with a diva-worthy flick of his wrist. “Do I look sophisticated?”

“Mhm.”

Carlos eased one of the toy chairs away from the table so Arabella could scoot in. “Now you wait right here while I go get the tea and cookies Mommy made for us.”

There was an obvious pep in his step as he rushed down the stairs, and in an instant, he was back in his daughter’s room, only this time, there was a tray of refreshments balanced in his arms.

“Now” he declared as he placed the tray in the center of the table, “let me show you the proper way to drink tea.”

She piped up. “The way princesses do?”

“Just like a princess,” Carlos reassured her, and with a mock sense of poise, he raised the tiny tea cup to his lips, allowing his pinky finger to go limp in the process. “You see, Arabella, you have to keep your pinky out if you want to look sophisticated.” He took another dainty sip of herbal tea to demonstrate. “Now you try.”

Ever the quick study, Arabella shakily raised her own cup to her lips, her skinny pinky finger suspended in midair just as her father had shown her.

“Daddy,” she spoke up once she set her tea back on the table. “I wish we could have tea parties like this everyday.”

“I wish we could too, sweetie,” he replied with a wistful smile. Carlos enveloped his daughter in his arms, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “Just remember, even when I’m not here, you’ll always be my little princess.”