Sophia Says...

Sophia says "How time we gonna play Dad?" I say "As soon as I pick you up from school."
I pick her up from school.
Sophia says "I played with Jackson today, and uda friends, but Olivia wasn't there today and I miss her."
I say "I'm sure Olivia misses you too. I'm sure you still had fun today though, right?"
Sophia has a shocked "but-of-course" look come over her face. "Yasure Dad, why woulna-I?"
Ah to be a child again, to make friends and have fun on a minute by minute basis.
"Nevermind," I say with a smile reflected in the rear view mirror.
We drive home.
At home Sophia says "I wanna snack Dad."
"How about I make you a turkey sandwich with mustard?"
Sophia looks at me as if I'm stupid. "That ain't a snack Dad, that's a saaan-wich." She also wants to add "And Dear Man, for the millionth time, I don't like mustard, this has been a trend going on  five years now, so please get with the program." But she doesn't because she's sweet that way.
Instead Sophia says "I want chips."
Her highness is seated at the table with a juice and a bowl of chips a few minutes later.
"Dad," Sophia says, "Why you and Mom get married?"
Without missing a beat I reply, "Because Daddy was completely out of his mind."
Her little face explodes in shock and then she smiles and shakes her head. She knows now that nine times out of ten Daddy is going to say whatever he can to get a rise out of somebody. He thinks it's fun. He's a bad boy that way.
"Daaaaaaaaaad! Rally now, tell me." And she says the "rally" just like that, like a tiny Latina Scarlett O'hara.
"We got married because we loved each other, honey."
"Do you still love her?"
"She's alright." I smile and shrug.
"Daaaaaaad."
"Okay, okay. Yeah."
"Then you wanted Anthony, right?"
"Yep."
"How time you wanted me Dad?"  I don't know why but she refuses to use the word "what" or "when". We should correct that but it's too adorable, so we don't. A kindergarten teacher in her future will have issues with this, I'm sure.
"That's a loaded question."
"What's a load-question, Dad?"
"Never mind," I say with a big grin. She promptly smashes my finger with the knuckles of her left hand. Her right hand maintains fierce possession of her chips. Because she's both tough and smart that way.
"Okay, okay....we wanted you very much so we prayed for you. Then we waited for God to say yes."
She mulls this over for a minute, guns her juice, and looks me dead in the eye before saying, "And were you  happy when he said yes?"
Ahhh...women, little or otherwise. The eyes are all big and innocent, she even blinks a few times for affect, but she hasn't learned to disguise the tone of her voice yet so this question comes off as the five year old version of "Do I look fat in these pants?"
"Of course I was happy that God answered that prayer, baby girl!"
I wait for a scooby-snack in return. I don't know. Perhaps a quick "I love you Dad" or something. But Hallmark has left the building. She simply nods once, smiles and says "Dad, can you put on Zapunzel for me?" And she says it just like that, "Zapunzel", because I think she has something against "r's" too.
So I do.
It isn't until later that night, as I am putting her to bed, giving her a crushing Daddy hug and telling her goodnight, that she wraps her little arms around my neck and whispers in my ear "And Dad?"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad God answered that prayer too."
Because she's precious that way.