A Waffle

It’s a cloudy morning, the dim overcast light was making my window blinds glow, and it was fairly chilly. My covers were strewn about from trouble sleeping, and my left leg was hanging off the side of the bed. I dreamed a bit that night, mostly indescribable nonsense, but a new face was now embedded in my thoughts. Sofía.

At some point the line between what happened yesterday and dream was blurred. For all I knew, it could have been just a fantasy to meet someone so interesting in such a place as McDonald’s. Well I’ve seen plenty of odd folks and their choice of wear at Walmart, so maybe McDonald’s shouldn’t be a surprise, but Sofía is different. It's not everyday you pick up an obsession over someone you’ve just met. Everything about her outside of just appearance, which already tops the charts give or take the costume, is just enticing. She’s very open to new things, confident in her hobbies, and thoughtful of others. Maybe I’m exaggerating, this mind of mine is filled with over analyzing her.

If she could hear my thoughts right now then I’d be on a restraining order. I wish I wasn’t such a hormonal teen on the inside, I’ve got parental duties that must be tended to. Can’t be caught up in the web of some woman who just treats me nicely. Besides, I might never see her again. It’s a farewell to my jacket too.

Sluggishly I rise from bed to start my weekend. Just like her mother, Imani is a heavy sleeper, so noise is not a problem when getting things moving. The bath was being drawn and her clothes for the day were neatly picked out and laid ready for after the bath. A towel is placed across the ground beside the bath to prevent slipping on the wet floor, four towels neatly folded to the side of the bath, two large ones for wiping down the body, and two slightly smaller ones for the head. To me, everything has to be meticulously arranged before Imani is awoken to ensure an efficient morning experience. Is it necessary? Probably not. I could just wake her and make her wait through every step, but I go the extra mile just because that’s the kind of father I can’t help but be.

“Rise and shine.” I roll up the blinds in Imani’s room.

Just as I expected, no response. So I move in to nudge her a little bit. “It’s bath time.”

“Mmm…” Imani rolls in bed a bit and stretches her arms. “Morning Papa.”

“Good morning sweetheart, are you ready to take a bath?”

“Bwaf?” Imani quickly rose.

“Yup.”

Imani slinked out of her covers and her little feet plopped on the carpet floor to stand.

“Wif the baboos?”

“The bubbles? Yes, I’ll put the bubbly stuff in.”

Imani giggled. “The bu-bowly stuff.”

“Yes, the bu-bowly stuff.” I walked her to the bathroom.

Usually we bathe before bed, but since she came home so exhausted this step was delayed to the next day. It's the weekend and I have off, so there was no rush. I brush her hair and mine, even letting her use the brush briefly herself and on my hair as well.

“It’s stuck!” Imani pulled at the brush in my hair.

Unlike Imani’s hair, a thinner and straight type that she got from her mother, My hair was way thicker and had gentle twists near the ends, so it tends to form knots.

“Don’t pull at it like that! Wait, give me the brush.”

“I wanna do it!”

“You’ll pull all my hair out.”

“What?”

“You’ll mess up Papa’s hair and hurt him.”

“No, I don’t wanna do that!”

“Then hand it over.” I reached behind me and opened my hand for her to place the brush in.

When the brush was in my hand and I finagled my way into the knot, it broke through without much resistance. Imani just looked at me in awe as if I had some magical hair-brushing power.

“Do mine!”

“I just did it.”

“Again!”

“We have to take our bath.”

“But my hay-ore…”

“I’ll have to brush it again after.”

“But I want it now…”

“Fine, how about I brush your hair in the bath?”

“Yes, and with the buboos!”

“And with the bubbles, of course.”

The bath was filled and the peach-scented bubble bath product was added. With just a bit of irritation, Imani splashed the water, and the bath began to froth. Imani was teeming with joy and couldn’t wait to hop in.

“What do you want for breakfast?” I asked Imani as we sat in the bath.

“Mmm…” Imani scooped up some bubbles, blowing them into a flurry. “A wafoo and ache.”

“Eggs and waffles? Sounds good. How do you want your eggs?”

“Scwambold.”

“Scrambled it is.” I scrubbed her hair with shampoo into a bubble afro.

Once the bathing was done and we were dressed, I went straight to the kitchen cabinets to fetch a waffle maker. Then I handed Imani a small bowl and cracked an egg in it for her to scramble. The technique was poor and of course, she made a lot of noise, but eventually, the egg was broken up. I of course took it and beat the egg a little more to be sure after she was done, then poured it into a hot buttered pan. When Imani was occupied with the egg-breaking task I had already prepped some waffle mixture to pour into the waffle maker.

With a ding, breakfast was ready. A waffle and a scoop of fluffy scrambled eggs were served atop Imani’s plate. The plate was painted when she turned three and it had the prints of her little hands in different colors and a very distorted writing of her name, which I assisted with at the time, using her pointer finger like a paintbrush.

I spread butter on Imani’s waffle “Bon appétit.” Then cut it into bite-sized pieces.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, but people say it before they eat sometimes I think.”

“Oh, Bow a-paw-each!”

“What do you want to drink?”

“Syrup!” Imani tried to reach for the bottle of syrup but it was too far away.

“No you can’t drink syrup, but you can put it on your waffles.” I pass Imani the bottle and she squeezes a heaping amount of syrup on her waffle and eggs.

“I wan oranch juice.”

“Coming your way.” I pour a small cup of orange juice and land it beside her plate, doing helicopter noises on the way.

“Thanks, Papa.”

“You’re welcome.”

Breakfast was good. I’m impressed with how much I’ve improved since my first days learning to cook for me and Imani. It took a lot of tries, wasted food down the bin, and plenty of cooking book studying. I’m proud to say I haven’t started a fire during those tough times.

“All done!”

Imani put her fork down, but her plate still had some bites of waffle and egg I knew she might not finish.

“Good.” I eat what’s left on her plate, then take our plates to the sink. “Want to help wash the dishes?”

“Yes!”

“The sooner we clean up, the faster we can go shopping after.”

“Shobbing!” Imani began to bounce in her seat and raise her arms for me to pick her up. “Will I get to push the cart?”

“Are you sure? It’s pretty big and heavy.” I lift her in my arms and bring her to the side of the sink.

“I’m big and tuff!” She poses to show off her squishy biceps. “Like a rainos-sa-sor-as-sor… A rainawsas”

“You can say rhino.”

“A rhino.”

“Well, if you’re so strong, scrub your plate squeaky clean.” I hand over Imani’s plate and a sponge.

Imani holds it under the water with great focus as she scrubs at the plate. I kept one hand on the plate to support it and prevent her from dropping it.

“Good job!” I praise Imani, and she is teeming with joy.

Our washed tableware is individually transferred onto a drying rack in the secondary sink bowl with a clink, and Imani celebrates our cleaning victory with a little sitting shimmy.

“Let’s get your shoes on and rock 'n' roll.” I get Imani down from the countertop and walk her to the front door.

The trip to the store is a longer one than how it was back in my old apartment. Usually, it's a brisk walk across or down the street to get what you need, but out here in the countryside, It can be a decently long drive depending on where you live. It’s not so bad, Imani loves to stare out the window at nothing like she’s following some imaginary figure beside the car. Sooner or later that imaginary figure she’s following will happen upon one of the great wonders of the world. The big structure that suddenly formed was almost as widespread and frequent as McDonald’s; Walmart.

We parked and grabbed our cart, but I didn’t let Imani have it just yet. Instead, I pushed it around with her inside it until we were in what seemed like a pretty empty and safe area of the store.

“Ok, you can push it now.” I take Imani out of the cart. “But don’t go too fast.”

“Push!”

When Imani was on the ground and behind the cart, she started to slowly shove it from forward, then she’d grab it and pull it back. Her eyes were locked on the wheels as they spun and she cackled every time the wheel made a loud squeak. I made sure to keep one hand on the cart to steer her in the right direction.

At this rate, I was barely going to get any shopping done. Too distracted by how adorable it all was and just mindlessly following her as she pushed the cart through the aisles slowly was such a calming experience. Just me, my daughter, and our–

We crash into the rear of a small woman after going around the corner of an aisle. Our cart rattled, and the woman yelped.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Call an am-ulanch!” Imani shouted over me, hitting my leg to take action.

“I’m fine.” The woman turned to me. “Oh!”

Her voice was already very familiar to me, and deep inside I knew it was her from the start, but it still surprised me nonetheless when I saw her. Sofia was here, looking right at me, and seemed glad to see me. Her costume was floral and she wore a long green wig. A crown of twigs dotted with flowers and leaves rested on her head, and her eyes had sage-green contacts. Everything about her costume was as excepted, a flashy character that you’d see in those anime shows she spoke of, but what I didn’t see coming was her still wearing my jacket from yesterday over it.

“Carmine!” She happily greeted me.