A DIAMOND

She banged the high chair table hard. Did it again! Her pink plastic plate with the white bunny on the bottom covered with applesauce and pureed bananas fell on the floor and splashed the Nanny’s skirt. Lola wet a tea towel, wiped her skirt and with the same towel, but another corner, wiped the baby’s sweet, laughing face. The rinsed plate went into the dishwasher. The floor needed mopping but first Lola gave the ten month old child a pink sippy cup of warm milk. Sherry knocked it over, the milk dripped on the already messy floor. ‘That’s it, Baby. No lunch for you.’ Upset, but still gentle, Lola carried the baby into the living room, moved a few dolls to the side and deposited Sherry in her pink padded play pen.

A loud cry came into the kitchen just as the last swipe of the mop set that floor right again. Lola ran to the baby and almost gagged at her soiled Pamper being mish mashed around the padding. ‘Oy, Diablo, what a mess you made! Don’t move. I’ll get a towel’. An old rag towel from the basement enfolded all of little Sherry. ‘Come, Little One, Lola fix you.’

Upstairs she ½ filled the tub, used plenty of Castille baby soap, drained the water and refilled it. Sherry splashed, wet Lola’s hair, uniform and the tile floor. ‘Come to me, Sweetie. Stand up. Hold onto me. Let me rub you dry and make you smell good.’ Sherry laughed when the terry towel tickled her tushie. The tub water gurgled, emptied.

Dry pink pajamas covered the perfect little girl. Her fine blonde hair needed no toweling. It dried itself. ‘You must be hungry, Baby Dear’, Lola told Sherry who paid no attention. ‘I forgive you. You must be hungry. I will fix you oatmeal with little pieces of blueberries. Yummy. No more mess, you hear me. I feed you.’ Instant Quaker Oatmeal was ready in two instants. Lola opened her mouth to show Sherry what to do. Sherry did it and her little filled silver spoon came softly in, and loudly out, as the cereal and blueberries spattered on Lola. The blueberries most likely stained her white blouse but she remained calm. Sherry’s game went on. ‘Baby, don’t get Lola angry. You have to eat lunch. Open your mouth or Lola spank you. ‘ Suddenly Sherry decided she liked oatmeal, picked up her silver spoon and tried to feed herself. With a little help, the oatmeal was finished. The bowl washed and the re-filled sippy cup with just a little milk was thrown on the clean floor. ‘Time for your nappy. Come.’ Two soft arms reached up to Lola who carried the nodding little girl to her crib. While she slept the kitchen, playpen and tub were put in order.

At 2:30 Mrs. Morgan was due home. At 3:30 she yelled from the foyer, ‘Lola, Lola, sorry I’m a little late.’ In the kitchen she asked her usual questions, ‘How was your day? Was Sherry a good girl?’ ‘An angel, an angel. I love her. See you Friday.’

Lola’s son, in his junk heap car, was waiting to drive her home. He had to get to work at Home Depot and left her at the apartment curb. The front door of Lola’s 2 bedroom apartment on the 3rd floor of a city subsidized building opened as her footsteps were heard from inside. Her three daughters, ages 6,8 and 9 grabbed her, held tight as she kissed each one on the forehead.

Lola pried away, went in the kitchen to prepare supper for her family. The girls would clean up later.