Expectations

"Here, little goat," I called to the animal trying to nap on some stairs. "We're all tired, sweetheart," I coaxed. "Come here and take some food from Little One, please." The floppy eared creature persisted in his attempts at rest in the warm sunshine and cool breeze and I looked down at my eldest niece and shrugged. I reached for the ice cream cone filled with animal pellets for the creatures in the petting zoo and tucked it in my pocket.

"Sometimes," I told her, crouching down to tuck her long curls behind tiny ears, "animals disappoint you. Like when Chienne thwaps you with her tail. Or your cat scratches you when he's falling off the couch." She nodded, soon scampering off toward the swings while Brother followed behind her. I lingered to frown at the goat, thinking it wouldn't have killed him to come over and say hello.

Little One went to school for the first time all alone. She carpooled with people from daycare and stepped into a classroom with a new teacher and new friends without any family support.

"Grandma went with me," I remembered when Mom sniffled over the fact that nobody had told her so she could accompany her granddaughter to class. "She sat on the steps outside the classroom and I would peek outside to make sure she was there when I got nervous."

"I would have done that too," Mom said sadly. "Brother's Wife didn't tell me - or anyone - so we could go." And every time the little girl cuddles into me while I read to her or giggles over a silly joke or says something sweet and smart and wonderful, I am overwhelmed by love and a vicious need to protect her. Hence the glare at the goat.

"What's up with the plaid shorts there?" I teased Brother after we'd all met for breakfast.

"I look good," he drawled and I shook my head at him even as I smiled.

"I can't believe you bought plaid shorts," I said on the way to the orchard with boasted hay rides and a petting zoo and picking of apples and pumpkins.

"I didn't," he said smugly, withdrawing a card from his wallet with a picture of a rooster on it. "Cougar bait" was written on the slip of paper and I looked at it with horror. "Someone bought them for me," he offered when I blinked at him over a very wrinkled nose. "She makes a lot of money."

"Is this the one who's nearing retirement?" I asked dryly and he protested that she was only 40! A mere 16 years his senior! I opened my mouth to lecture, but closed it when I saw him roll his eyes in preparation for my monologue. I shot him a look instead and he nodded in response to my unspoken message. Then I glanced at the girls in the backseat and thought they deserved so much more. The divorce becomes final next month and Brother and his wife are both behaving fairly badly. Damn it all.

Having left Little One with Brother mid-pumpkin selection, my parents and I continued to sit on the hay with Smallest One as we bounced back toward the barn.

"Do you see the pumpkins?" I asked as I held the baby on my lap. I grinned widely and nodded when her tiny finger pointed, arm extended toward the fields that stretched around us. "Very good," I praised, nuzzling her hair. The same arm - autocratic, yet pudgy - extended several times to point the way to her next destination. I would walk with her perched on my arm or while pushing her in her stroller until she babbled and directed me to the next acceptable spot.

I want everything good for them. I hate the idea that they'll be faced with pain, disappointment and worry. Little One, especially, is like me in that she's concerned about what others think and how they react to her.

"Don't yell," Brother warned when a little boy pushed Little One while she was climbing the steps to the slide. I glared warningly at the parent until the problem was warned to wait his turn.

"Go ahead," I encouraged my niece. "You're OK." And as I took photos when directed to do so, I prayed circumstances aligned in a way that works well for her and her little heart.

Stars aligned when Smallest One pointed toward the ducks and Little One followed. We debated which fowl was our favorite - I liked the napping ones (since I too enjoy sleep) and Little One decided the one closest to the fence was nice. I couldn't figure out which of the flock Smallest One pointed to.

"Oh," I recalled while reaching in my pocket for the camera, "do you want to offer them some food Grandma bought for you?"

Scattering the pellets on the ground, Little One giggled as the ducks moved toward her. I nodded in satisfaction, informing Smallest One that ducks say quack as she tried to wave at the animals. After final hugs and kisses a couple hours later, I made my way back north to turn my worry toward other topics. And now here we are again.