Violet's Plan

I look up from my computer to see Violet’s eyes on mine from behind the counter with brows that hold an “I might be about to cry” curve.

“You OK, Honey?”  I get up from my work, head over to sit beside her. 

“I’m feeling scared.”

“Scared?”

“Scared of people.”

“But Grandma and I are the only ones here.”  Damn.  I catch myself trying to make her feelings go away, trying to get her to justify or explain, when that is not what this three-year-old who has signaled me with plaintive eyes needs.

“Would you like a hug?  Would that help you to feel safer?”  She does not climb into my arms, but stands and hangs her head, fingers touching pursed lips.

“I have a plan to help me feel better.”

“A plan?”

“Yes, you could play with me.”  I burst into laughter.  She's caught me in my own trap.  If she had just come up and asked me to play with her I would have said, “No Honey, I have to work.”  Apparently, she knows I’ll drop everything for a child in distress.

Now she is dancing and prancing in front of me like a hula-popper with a Cheshire smile.  What can I do?

“OK.  One game of Hide-and-Seek and that’s it.”