Q & A #22
by Colleen Hillerup
Meredith was working intently on the coffee table, her paper spread out before her and a plethora of brightly coloured crayons in disarray around it. Buffy stood over her, surveying her work. "That's really good, sweetheart." She pointed to the paper. "That's a very good tree."
The little face screwed up in disgust with her mother's ignorance. "That's not a tree, silly. That's you."
"Oh." Buffy looked closer. "Of course it is."
"That's your green shirt and your brown pants."
Buffy squatted down beside the table, deciding it would be safer to let her daughter describe her own work. "And what's that part?"
The little girl forced exasperated air through her lips. "That's daddy."
"Oh, right. I should have known by all the black." She pointed to the centre of the drawing. "That's you, isn't it? Your favourite blue dress."
Meredith beamed. "You got it right. That's good, mommy." She put down her crayon had threw her arms around her mother's neck. "You get a kiss." She pressed her lips against Buffy's cheek.
"Thank you." She watched the little girl go back to the paper. "And what's that part?"
"That's our doggie."
"Honey, we don't have a doggie."
"I want one." She drew something in her mother's arms. "And that's my baby brother."
"Oh, Meredith." She placed her hand on her daughter's head, stoking her hair. "Don't count on that."
"Why not?"
"Because it probably will never happen. My Meredith is a special little girl. One of a kind."
"I want a baby brother. It could maybe be."
"Okay." She sat on the carpet beside her. "Maybe." She looked back at the picture. "Why do you have so much of this colour? Our hair, the dog, the walls."
Meredith smiled. "I like the yellow crayon."
by Colleen Hillerup
Meredith was working intently on the coffee table, her paper spread out before her and a plethora of brightly coloured crayons in disarray around it. Buffy stood over her, surveying her work. "That's really good, sweetheart." She pointed to the paper. "That's a very good tree."
The little face screwed up in disgust with her mother's ignorance. "That's not a tree, silly. That's you."
"Oh." Buffy looked closer. "Of course it is."
"That's your green shirt and your brown pants."
Buffy squatted down beside the table, deciding it would be safer to let her daughter describe her own work. "And what's that part?"
The little girl forced exasperated air through her lips. "That's daddy."
"Oh, right. I should have known by all the black." She pointed to the centre of the drawing. "That's you, isn't it? Your favourite blue dress."
Meredith beamed. "You got it right. That's good, mommy." She put down her crayon had threw her arms around her mother's neck. "You get a kiss." She pressed her lips against Buffy's cheek.
"Thank you." She watched the little girl go back to the paper. "And what's that part?"
"That's our doggie."
"Honey, we don't have a doggie."
"I want one." She drew something in her mother's arms. "And that's my baby brother."
"Oh, Meredith." She placed her hand on her daughter's head, stoking her hair. "Don't count on that."
"Why not?"
"Because it probably will never happen. My Meredith is a special little girl. One of a kind."
"I want a baby brother. It could maybe be."
"Okay." She sat on the carpet beside her. "Maybe." She looked back at the picture. "Why do you have so much of this colour? Our hair, the dog, the walls."
Meredith smiled. "I like the yellow crayon."