-- Lizzie


I had a turkey sandwich for lunch....and this followed.



“Here you go, little one,” Jessica told Frank Jr., placing a turkey sandwich in front of him.

Frank burbled and giggled a bit as he picked bite-sized pieces off his sandwich, and Jessica began thinking about the child she never had. She hadn’t ever regretted not having a child with Frank. The two of them had more advantages than she could fathom, and she wouldn’t have traded all their good times, good health and relationship for anything. Though sometimes, mostly times like these when she was babysitting Frank Jr., she had wondered what it would have been like to share these formative infancy and toddler years with a child she and Frank had brought into the world.

     “Momma?” little Frank asked Jessica.

     “She’ll be back soon, darling,” Jessica told him, getting more milk out of the fridge. “Want some more milk?”

     Frank made a noise that Jessica could only decipher to be an equivalent to “yes” and she poured more milk into his sippy cup and twisted the lid on tightly.

     “How’s that sandwich?” Jessica asked, seeing pieces of it spread across Frank’s high chair table.

     “MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!” Frank said, putting a piece of turkey on the top of his head before breaking into giggles.

     “You silly boy,” Jessica said, laughing and picking the piece of turkey off Frank’s head. “Turkey goes on your plate. And then in your mouth.”

     “Num! Num!” Frank told her, taking the piece of turkey from her and shoving it, and his fist, into his mouth.

     Jessica laughed and went back to her own lunch as Frank ate.

     “Jessica! You’re home!” Seth smiled as he wandered in through the backdoor. “And you’ve still got your visitah,” he mused, catching sight of little Frank.

     “Yes. Grady and Donna called this morning and they’re going to be a couple hours later than they’d planned, so Frank and I are going to take a nap this afternoon, aren’t we Frank?” Jessica asked, in that way all adults talk to children, as though they’re patronizing them. They ask questions for which the child has no input to the answers.

     “No!” Frank declared, certain that he wouldn’t be napping that afternoon.

     “Now, young man,” Seth started. “I’m sure your Aunt Jessica knows what’s best for you. So if she says you’re going to nap, don’t you think you’ll be napping?” Seth asked in the same, baby-talk, patronizing manner.

     “NO!” Frank yelled again, throwing his sandwich at Seth.

     The sandwich, thrown surprisingly hard by a one-and-a-half-year-old, stuck to Seth’s forehead, the turkey sliding down his face and the bread sticking to his forehead owing to the mustard on the bread.

     “SAMMICH!” Frank said, bursting into giggles about the sandwich stuck to Seth’s face. Jessica and Seth had to agree and burst into laughter of their own.