Emma has been forced into patient observer with two older, savvy brothers, and a younger table-climbing toddler behind her. With Luke in baseball and swimming lessons, Jordan in soccer and trouble, and me and Luke in the musical, Emma must be thinking “When is it my turn?” (Most of August will be her turn). Meanwhile she takes what interaction she can get. Some of that has come in the form of older neighborhood girls that are nice enough to play, but the shining moments in her eyes are definitely still whenever someone is willing to play “tea party.”
I don’t mind being honest with your here. For me to play “tea party” is a deeply sincere act of LOVE! Believe it or not, it is the same for Deborah. Needless to say, Emma’s primary tea partier is Grandma, and you know how often that happens.
So one day when everyone else was occupied I had a chance fore some great one-on-one time with Miss Emma. I casually asked her what she wanted to do and quickly suggested that we could go for a bike ride, or I could push her in the bike trailer, or we could water the garden… the whole time I’m throwing out these suggestions mind mind is racing, “please not tea party. please not tea party. please not tea party.” The second I stopped talking Emma shouted, “Let’s play Tea Party!!!”
How could I refuse?
So we got the bin of plastic, Made-in-China tea party stuff, then set up the plastic, Made-in-China tea party table before making the tea (water). Emma poured us each a cup of hot tea (water) then added a spoonful of sugar (air), and a drop of honey (water). Once everything was ready we nestled in for a long afternoon conversation over water… er… tea, with plastic, Made-in-China pastries to fill our imaginary appetites.
We talked about the neighborhood girls, Barbie cloths, stuffed animals, Isaiah and his blanket, and the flowers growing in her garden. As we sat and talked I realized that I had forgotton that Emma was a woman-in-training, and as such that one of her greatest needs in life is to have someone to listen. In that sudden wave of realization, I was profoundly glad to be sharing my plastic, Made-in-China scone with my only woman-in-training.
Maybe next time, I’ll suggest “tea party” first.