So I made the usual bedtime call to the girls. I do this, fairly reliably, every night they're not with me. And the artist formerly known as Frau Lobster is good about having them call me about 8:00 if I get tied up in something and forget the time.
It's a small thing, but it matters. I do our little 'tuck-you-in' routine, night-night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bug's bite and all that.
So anyway, right after I got off the phone tonight, the phone started ringing. Enough time had lapsed that I was in gloved hands wrangling epoxy resin and couldn't answer the phone. As soon as I could, maybe five minute later, I called back. Mo had been whining, and when asked about what, she said something about Daddy.
Do you want to call and talk to Daddy some more? she was asked. Keep in mind, this is a kid who rarely uses language to express herself. Speaking in sentences happens, but not reliably.
'Yes, I would.'
So I was put on with her, and she repeated part of our usual bedtime routine. I heard, 'I love you big honyock.' She'd said it a few minutes earlier, in response to my, 'I love you little honyock.' This is part of the script, a thing said literally thousands of times.
But then she said, 'I miss you.' She said it plainly and sweetly, and it wasn't echolalia because I hadn't said the words first.
It's tinged with the regret that I fucked up the marriage thing so badly that she's not under the same roof with me every night, but it still put me on about cloud nine going on ten.
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