we going to do with that?” This time, Zoe’s question was genuine.
“We’re going to eat it—along with the chili we’re going to make for dinner. Does your dad like chili?” A frown wrinkled Poppy’s face. This grand dinner plan had come to her while strolling across the Harvest Festival, but she’d completely disregarded the fact that she didn’t know any of the Larson family’s likes or dislikes when it came to food.
“He eats at work.” Zoe’s shoulders slumped and she picked at the silk threads on an ear of corn. “That’s why you’re with us. So he doesn’t have to be.”
Poppy tried to reassure her. “I bet he wishes he was here.”
“I hate cornbread.” Zoe’s whole demeanor had changed from just seconds before.
Clearly, Zoe was going to be a challenge. One minute, Poppy thought she’d finally broken through. The next minute, the girl had fallen back into her old, defensive, skeptical habits. Poppy had to find a way to get through to her. But how?
“More for me!” Zach announced. Poppy wished Zoe’s resistance could be broken down as quickly as Zach’s. The younger Larson had already started to warm to Poppy, and Poppy loved it. She remembered when her own family split up and how she’d wished for a grown-up who understood and tried to make things better.
Poppy wanted to be that grown-up for these kids. They deserved some stability in their lives and someone who would be there during more than just the hours when they were asleep.
“And meeee.” She raised her hand and gave Zach a high-five. He enthusiastically slapped Poppy’s hand back.
There, Poppy thought with a smile. They were officially on the same team. Hashtag: Nanny Goals.
This felt good.
Until two seconds later, when Zach began to scream. “SPIDER! Spider! Spider!” He ran off, still screaming. “Aaugh!”
“Let’s go.” Poppy dropped her armful of corn ears back atop the pile on the table and began to run toward the barn, in pursuit of Zach.
“Zach? Where are you going?” Zoe’s attitude of distrust immediately dropped. She sprinted ahead as though nothing mattered more than her brother.
Poppy followed quickly behind. “Zach?”
Zoe continued yelling after her brother as she rounded picnic tables and zigzagged between other festival-goers enjoying a lazy Sunday stroll through the grounds. “Zach!”
Finally, they caught up to him near the goat stall. Zach sat sullenly on a bench. The colorful pumpkins and flowers on the table behind him sat in cheerful contrast to his visible turmoil. Poppy squatted down to be at eye level with him as she tried to offer reassurance.
“Hmm…so I think spiders might like corn on the cob as much as people do. Sorry, buddy.”
A small shard of guilt tore at her heart. He’d only started picking through the ears of corn because Poppy had. She needed to make it right. But she could see in Zach’s gray eyes that he was desperately trying to sort out his own emotions.
Poppy wanted to honor his desire to be a big kid, to find his place in a world where he hadn’t had much control over the larger events. In her soul, she felt like she needed to just punch the pause button and give Zach some space.
She pointed at the fenced-in goat pen just a few steps away. Zoe was kneeling in front of the gate, petting one of the animals inside. “Okay, I’m going to be right over there, if you need me—” Poppy patted him on the knee and then pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Right there.”
Poppy strolled over to the goat pen and leaned on the green metal bars of the gate. “Hey, Zoe.” Maybe while Zach was sorting out his fear of arachnids, she and Zoe could sort out the young girl’s skepticism of the new nanny.
“Let me guess. He’s not talking to you.” Zoe summed up the situation pretty succinctly. Poppy assumed Zoe had seen this reaction before.
“Nope. That’s okay. Talking’s overrated.” Poppy threw a quick glance over her shoulder to check on Zach, then turned back and waved her fingers at the half-dozen goats walking around the pen and bleating. “I’m going to talk to these guys. Hey, nanny. Hi, I’m a nanny too.”
Zoe followed the train of thought. “I know why they call it a nanny goat.”
“Why?”
“Because nannies come in and try to take over.”
Ouch. Zoe’s truth bomb just explained everything about her reluctant attitude since she’d first been summoned to the stairs at the house to meet Poppy.
Another shriek from another Larson child broke through the general sounds of joy at the Harvest Festival. This time, it was Zoe. “My favorite sweater!”
Poppy looked down. Three goats had crowded up to Zoe and were pulling her knitted sweater through the bars of the pen’s gate. Poppy clearly heard the sound of fabric ripping as the lead goat took the hem in her teeth and stepped back, tearing a hole in Zoe’s garment.
A fear of spiders, Poppy could deal with. But fending off goats was a whole different thing. This was a nanny curveball she never could have imagined. The Whidbey Island Harvest Festival had attack goats.
Think fast, Poppy… “Okay—okay… Off! Roll over! Spit! Heel!”
The goats followed nanny directives just about as well as the Larson kids did.
Finally, Zoe disengaged. She looked down at what remained of the hem of her sweater and waggled it at Poppy. Then she narrowed her eyes and leaned toward Poppy defensively. “This is all your fault! I want to go home.”
“Me too.” Zach finally broke his silence.
“Me three.” Poppy surrendered.
Somehow, she made it through dinner without engendering too much conflict. The kids mostly kept to themselves. They picked at their chili and homemade cornbread, but Poppy was too drained to encourage them to eat any better. Today hadn’t gone quite as planned.
Okay, it hadn’t gone at all as planned.
When Megan told Poppy she was good at taking care of kids, Poppy thought that had to mean something. If an unbiased third-party saw something capable in her, that had to count, right?
Yet, just like tossing pizza dough, bonding with kids was harder than it looked. It was time to confront the fact that her nephews probably liked her simply because she was their aunt. They were related. The boys had to like her.
Total strangers…that was another story entirely.
And one that would not have a happy ending, Poppy feared.
After dinner, she tried a string of activities to get the kids engaged, but nothing worked. Everything just got tossed aside after no more than a few minutes into a big, colorful mess of failures. Once the kids had been in bed for about an hour, Poppy ventured back upstairs to check on them. At least maybe she could dare to hope that they’d like her in their dreams. Poppy tiptoed into Zach’s room. He was soundly sleeping, a fact which
