A few nights ago, Aaron and I had just finished preparing dinner and called Kiera in to the kitchen as we were fixing her plate. “Juice or milk, Kiera?” Aaron asked her as I spooned peas onto her plate.
“Milk!” she replied with her standard answer. She loves milk and being a dairy farmer’s daughter, I don’t discourage that. We do try to encourage her to drink other liquids from time to time and when all else fails, we add water to her milk. But, that’s top secret! Don’t sell me out.
“How about some special juice?” Aaron asked as he pulled the apple juice out of the refrigerator. Nine times out of ten, if you add the word ‘special’ in front of anything, it is a positive result. I’m handing out a lot of secrets today, people. Share them amongst yourselves, but don’t pass it along to Kiera.
“Oh, I guess,” she replied as she watched me finish filling her plate. “Wait!” she suddenly shouted and ran into the dining room.
She peeked through the opening above the bar that separates the dining room from the kitchen and pointed at me, “You be the waiter and I will order my food.”
I laughingly agreed. “Can I help you, ma’am?” I asked her as I assumed the role of waitress.“Yes. I would like to place an order,” she straightened her body to try and get a better look at her plate. “I would like chicken, macaroni and cheese and…”
“Green peas?” I questioned my little customer.
“Green peas. Yes, I would like those as well, ma’am,” she answered.
I walked around the bar, into the dining room. “This way, ma’am and I will seat you.”
She followed me into the living room, where I pointed to the coffee table. “Here we are, ma’am.”
“No. I would like to sit in there,” she stage whispered to me and pointed to her bedroom.
She doesn’t often eat in her room, but when she does, Aaron and I grab the opportunity to watch television that isn’t interrupted by Barbie, Phineas and Ferb, Legos… you get the idea.
“Why certainly, ma’am. Follow me,” I instructed as I led her into her bedroom. I pulled out a Strawberry Shortcake stool and placed it in front of her television stand. “How is this, ma’am?”
“Oh, ma’am, this is just perfect,” she gushed to me as she sat on her stool.
I tried not to giggle as I explained that I would be back shortly with her drink and plate. I turned to leave, only to be stopped by my mini patron. “Ma’am?”
“Yes?” I replied, turning back to her.
“You did not ask me what I wanted to drink,” she stated.
Now, technically, she was asked what she wanted to drink, but I realized that was before I took on the role of waitress.
“How about I see what the chef mixes for you?”
“That will be perfect,” she stated with a nod of her head, almost as if to dismiss me.
I made it into the kitchen and filled Chef Daddy in on our dining guest’s antics. I picked up her plate and drink, straightened my expression and walked back into Kiera’s room.
“Here you are, ma’am,” I said as I set her plate and drink in front of her. “Chicken, macaroni and cheese, green peas and sparkling cherry-apple juice.” I felt the urge to execute a small curtsy.
“It looks fabulous,” she replied as she looked over her food and drink. “Thank you so much, ma’am.”
I helped her set up the iPad with one of her favorite cartoons and began to back away.
“Oh, ma’am?” she said, causing me to pause.
“Yes. How may I help you?” I continued on in my role.
“Could you turn on the fan?” she asked and pointed to her little pink desk fan.
I leaned down to switch the fan on. As I did, I noticed how dirty it was. I switched from waitress mode to horrified Mommy mode for a brief moment. “Ugh. I’m sorry, sweetie. I really need to clean this fan. It is so dirty.”
Kiera never broke out of her role. “Oh, it doesn’t bother me,” she replied as she scooped macaroni onto her fork.
“I like to look at a dirty fan,” she sighed dramatically. “It reminds me of my son. He likes to roll around with the pigs and I am always the one who gives him a bath.”
After that theatrical statement, she popped her macaroni in her mouth and zoned in on her cartoon.
I watched her for a brief moment, before running to the kitchen, laughing and grabbing my phone to enter that specific sentence into the notes so I would not forget.
What can I say? It’s just an average McNeely night.
Rowonna McNeely is a graphic artist for Willie’s T’s Screenprint & Embroidery. She is a mother of a five year old girl and step mother of two adult girls. Her crazy life includes a dog, Sloane and psychotic cat, Gracie. Both females. She is married to her prince, who is outnumbered by the opposite gender.
