"Hey, what's with the mood?" I query, unsure of how to approach her.
"He always does that." She stubbornly crosses her arms in front of her chest, making me smile. "What, Greg? Don't mind him, he's just like that."
"Yeah. But it's not just him, it's like everybody, and I mean everybody is treating me like a little kid. I mean, I don't need a friggin' babysitter every time Mom isn't around and Grandma has other things to do."
Ouch. Someone is angry. I sigh.
"Seriously, I'm almost thirteen! I hate it. Why can't they just accept that I'm growing up?"
"Sorry, Linds, but that comes with being short." I joke in hopes of lightening the mood.
She doesn't seem to find that funny.
"I'm serious!" She declares. Her voice sounds petulant but I recognize the despair in it. I know what it's like to feel belittled by others.
"Sorry," I say, daring to touch her leg. "I was trying to cheer you up. We don't exactly share the same sense of humor, huh?"
She answers with a raised eyebrow. This Catherine-imitation she got going is really starting to scare me.
"Hey, tell you what. Why don't we go to the diner across the street. We can have breakfast together, or have you eaten already?"
"Do they have pancakes?" She asks grinning.
I nod, relieved to see the happy mood return.
Walking to the diner with the atmosphere visibly more relaxed I'm starting to feel comfortable with Lindsay.
"So, your mom says you wanted to stay with me?" I'm rather curious about that.
"Yeah, whenever I'm at mom's work you're the only one who doesn't talk to me like I'm a child."
She tells me as I hold the door open for her. I have to admit I'm a little stunned by that.
"That's because I don't know how to act around children." I state, trying to shrug it off as a joke but I know it's true nonetheless.
"Like you act around any other person." She says, and I'm beginning to think she might in fact be more mature than her mother gives her credit for.
"You just talk to them, and more importantly listen to what they have to say instead of telling them what to think or feel. Pretty much like you do."
I think I need to have a word with Catherine about this.
"Well I'm glad you think I'm doing well, Linds." I smile at her. "So, pancakes?"
She grins from ear to ear. "You bet. I can stuff at least 10."
I laugh at her.
"Five bucks says you'll manage no more that 6."
"You're on." She grins, extending her hand.
I remind myself that she is Catherine's daughter, and that I shouldn't seriously place any bets with her, especially not when they involve money. But what do I do? She's asking for it.
Taking the offered hand I wave to the waitress to order our breakfast.
Who would have thought Little Willows was such good company? Fifteen minutes and six pancakes later she is still entertaining me with stories about school and her friends, around mouthfuls of food. I've lost track of the numerous names she's counting down but I manage to remember the ones that come up more frequently.
"Hey, I'm at number seven." She grins, as she starts digging into the next pancake on her plate. I have to admit I'm more that surprised at how much fits into this small girl.
Shaking my head I watch as she lets piece after piece disappear into her mouth.
