things haven’t turned out that way. The important thing is that you’re old enough to comprehend this, and I know how important it is that you do.”
Mom was handling this differently than Becky expected. It was good to know Mom was going to help her understand things, that she wasn’t going to tell her that she was too young or that things would make more sense when she was grown up. This was so different from the way Dad had talked to her, even after everything was out in the open.
In that moment, Becky realized something she’d never realized before: while Mom was willing to treat her like a young adult, Dad still thought of her as a little kid. He wasn’t willing to accept that she’d grown up, that she wasn’t just the little girl who made up stories with him about make-believe places.
Becky also realized now that there was a way to change that. If Dad didn’t want to stop thinking of her as a kid, then she was going to have to force him. He didn’t get to make all the decisions about them anymore. As out-of-control as everything was feeling to Becky right now, she realized there were some things she – and only she – did control. She had to go with that.
The day got a little better after. It kind of had to, considering the way it started. Becky and Mom went for a walk where they didn’t do much talking, but it felt good to move around and have Mom next to her. When they went back inside, they played a couple of games of Scattergories and ate an entire package of Girl Scout Samoa cookies and half a package of Tagalongs, eventually deciding they were going to call that dinner.
When they finished playing, they sat back on the couch and Mom put her arm around Becky’s shoulders. Becky asked Mom to explain again what had happened between her and Dad, and again Mom talked to her like she was an adult, or at least a teenager. It made her even angrier to think about how Dad was handling this. She always thought they had a special relationship. But maybe the relationship was only special to Dad as long as she was his “little girl.”
That time was over.
Becky found herself getting increasingly angry about this. Even when Mom put on the “Fantastic Four” DVD, popped up a big bowl of popcorn, and told her she could stay up a little later even though she had school tomorrow, Becky still kept thinking about how Dad was treating her like a baby and how completely wrong it was for him to do so.
By the time he called that night, she was in a foul mood.
“Hey, babe, was the rest of your day okay?” he said.
What kind of question was that? Hey, little girl, did you have fun after Daddy told you he was moving into an apartment in another town?
“It was okay,” she said, trying to keep from freaking out.
“It’s almost bedtime, right?”
She didn’t want to get into the whole thing about Mom letting her stay up later. “Yeah, I guess I’ll be going up in a few minutes.”
He didn’t say anything back right away. Was he expecting her to just sit on the other end of the phone? Did he think this would be like hanging together on the couch?
Finally he said, “Wanna do a story?”
Becky knew this was coming but still found it hard to believe. “A story?”
“You know, we can do a story on the phone like we did that time I was away delivering that paper.”
The anger that had been building came to the surface so fast, Becky couldn’t have stopped it even if she tried. “I don’t want to do a story, Dad.”
He was quiet again for a while. “Okay. We can wait until next weekend.”
Becky felt her emotions flying all over the place, but she knew she had to dig in her heels. I’m not gonna be your baby anymore, Dad. “Not next weekend either.”
“What do you mean?” Dad’s voice sounded funny, the way it was when he was upset. Good. He was supposed to be upset.
“I don’t want to do Tamarisk stories anymore.” Becky said, though she had to battle to get the words out.
“Babe, I
Mom was handling this differently than Becky expected. It was good to know Mom was going to help her understand things, that she wasn’t going to tell her that she was too young or that things would make more sense when she was grown up. This was so different from the way Dad had talked to her, even after everything was out in the open.
In that moment, Becky realized something she’d never realized before: while Mom was willing to treat her like a young adult, Dad still thought of her as a little kid. He wasn’t willing to accept that she’d grown up, that she wasn’t just the little girl who made up stories with him about make-believe places.
Becky also realized now that there was a way to change that. If Dad didn’t want to stop thinking of her as a kid, then she was going to have to force him. He didn’t get to make all the decisions about them anymore. As out-of-control as everything was feeling to Becky right now, she realized there were some things she – and only she – did control. She had to go with that.
The day got a little better after. It kind of had to, considering the way it started. Becky and Mom went for a walk where they didn’t do much talking, but it felt good to move around and have Mom next to her. When they went back inside, they played a couple of games of Scattergories and ate an entire package of Girl Scout Samoa cookies and half a package of Tagalongs, eventually deciding they were going to call that dinner.
When they finished playing, they sat back on the couch and Mom put her arm around Becky’s shoulders. Becky asked Mom to explain again what had happened between her and Dad, and again Mom talked to her like she was an adult, or at least a teenager. It made her even angrier to think about how Dad was handling this. She always thought they had a special relationship. But maybe the relationship was only special to Dad as long as she was his “little girl.”
That time was over.
Becky found herself getting increasingly angry about this. Even when Mom put on the “Fantastic Four” DVD, popped up a big bowl of popcorn, and told her she could stay up a little later even though she had school tomorrow, Becky still kept thinking about how Dad was treating her like a baby and how completely wrong it was for him to do so.
By the time he called that night, she was in a foul mood.
“Hey, babe, was the rest of your day okay?” he said.
What kind of question was that? Hey, little girl, did you have fun after Daddy told you he was moving into an apartment in another town?
“It was okay,” she said, trying to keep from freaking out.
“It’s almost bedtime, right?”
She didn’t want to get into the whole thing about Mom letting her stay up later. “Yeah, I guess I’ll be going up in a few minutes.”
He didn’t say anything back right away. Was he expecting her to just sit on the other end of the phone? Did he think this would be like hanging together on the couch?
Finally he said, “Wanna do a story?”
Becky knew this was coming but still found it hard to believe. “A story?”
“You know, we can do a story on the phone like we did that time I was away delivering that paper.”
The anger that had been building came to the surface so fast, Becky couldn’t have stopped it even if she tried. “I don’t want to do a story, Dad.”
He was quiet again for a while. “Okay. We can wait until next weekend.”
Becky felt her emotions flying all over the place, but she knew she had to dig in her heels. I’m not gonna be your baby anymore, Dad. “Not next weekend either.”
“What do you mean?” Dad’s voice sounded funny, the way it was when he was upset. Good. He was supposed to be upset.
“I don’t want to do Tamarisk stories anymore.” Becky said, though she had to battle to get the words out.
“Babe, I
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