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Conversations with Charlotte
Charlotte, my six year old niece, is a bundle of love. Even for little girls, I scarcely met anyone sweeter. If angels are born from flawed people, Charlotte’s halo shines brighter than the ring of a lunar eclipse.
When throwing a coin in a fountain, she’ll tell you she wishes that, “everyone will be safe and can drive together.” Or, “our family will always be together and happy.” She could wish for anything. Toys. Dolls. A bigger house. A career. A vacation to Disney. And here she is, just wishing the best for humanity.
“Do you have kids?” She asks.
“Charlotte. Don’t you think if I had kids you would know your cousins? You think I have secret children at home? Who would be watching them while I am watching you?”
“Do you have a husband?”
“We’ve been through this. I don’t have a husband. If I did, you would know him.”
“Why don’t you just go out and get a husband? Go to the store or a diner, and go up to a man and ask him if he wants to be your husband!”
“It probably is that simple. But also, a giant red flag if someone marries you at first sight. Did you not learn anything from ‘Frozen’?”
It my sister’s birthday. Charlotte was searching fervently in the closet for a gift to give to her mom.
“What are you looking for?”
“My baby shoes.”
“Your baby shoes?”
“Yes. I want to give her my baby shoes for her birthday so she never forgets what I was like when I was a baby.”
“Charlotte, I promise you, your mom, or me, or anyone who knows you, will not forget how you are.”
She pouts her lip, upset she can’t find any of her baby shoes that my sister, I’m sure, donated to someone with a baby girl. Exasperated, in her little girl dramatic way, “I just want to make mom happy. I can give her the money my tooth fairy gave me.”
“That’s very sweet. But you know what would make her happy? A big hug and kiss from you! And also, if you clean up.”
“Yeah!” She exclaims with joy, “no one should have to clean on their birthday!” It’s a revelation.
Charlotte colors and paints rainbows and mermaids, over and over. She wants to be a hairdresser when she grows up, and often brushes my hair, crediting herself for the length of my hair. I encourage this— we have hairdressers in our family and I love them so, and they are content and make good money. Also, I don’t think the robots will take the hairdressing jobs. Additionally, Charlotte is a chatter box so it would be good for her to have a job she can do and also continuously talk, all while making someone look and feel more beautiful. But ultimately, I hope she is able to retain this level of love for life, and even though she is quick to cry, she is even quicker to laugh soon after.
Charlotte has a day bed in her room where I stay when I sleep over my sisters. Instead of sleeping on separate mattresses, she always ends up next to me. It doesn’t allow for very much room, but I don’t mind. The time kids are small and snugly is short. I don’t take it for granted.
In the morning, like any day I stay over my sisters, I’ll wake up to my niece looking at me. And the conversation always starts the same.
“Aunt Lori, I love you.”
What a way to start a day.
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