I had to work late, so B was in charge of dinner.
He took them to McDonalds. Yeah.
Sweet man that he is, he knew I missed the girls so he texted me a picture.
Later I texted him back:
“You got Rhema a cheeseburger right?”
“No. Chicken nuggets.”
“She doesn’t eat chicken nuggets.”
“Well, she eats the skin.”
“Yes, she peels off the skin so Hope can eat the nuggets. But Rhema doesn’t eat nuggets! Look at her face in that picture! She wants a cheeseburger!”
“I… I didn’t know.”
“Cheese. Cheese! She likes cheeseburgers now.”
“Oh. So that’s why she was looking at my meal so longingly. I had two cheeseburgers myself.”
I spent the rest of the night freaking out because my kid had chicken nugget skin for dinner. So often I wonder what she would say if she could. Would she tell me, “Mom, these pants make me itchy.” Or “I’m kind of sick of the rice bars you keep putting in my lunch.” Or “I prefer showers to baths now.”
I feel like there’s so much I don’t know. Is she thirsty? Does she hurt? Does she need to go potty? Is she too warm? I am a student of Rhema, always thinking about her, always trying to think like her, for her.
But the things I know, I know. And dagnabbit I know the girl likes cheeseburgers! Cut up into 10 bite-sized pieces exactly. No bread. No pickles.
So the next day we went back to McDonalds. Yes, we did. McDonalds two days in a row. Bad, bad.
But I had to let her know I know…
It’s so important to me that she knows I know.
And really I’d do just about anything to see her smile.
Ok, just for you. (Sniff, this is Rhema’s story!) Here is the best love song about a cheeseburger that ever was written: