The next time I wake up it is to the sound of little feet pattering down the hallway. It still surprises me at how amazing I am at this maternal stuff. Before Janna, a bomb could go off outside my window and I wouldn’t hear a damned thing. Now the instant that little girl even whimpers in her sleep I’m wide-awake and streaking across the hallway.

I turn my head and there she is in the doorway, grinning from small ear to small ear, all plump rosy cheeks and crazy black curls, her favorite teddy tucked under one chubby arm. My sister in miniature. Me too, I guess. Everyone always said Octavia and I looked like twins. I smile at her slowly. What a funny monkey she is. Her top doesn’t match her shorts.

“It’s morning, Mummy,” she sings, coming into the room with big, confident strides.

According to my alarm clock, it’s just past six a.m. She actually let me sleep in today. “Is it sunny or raining?”

“It’s sunny.”

I lift up one corner of my duvet. “Are you going to come in for a minute?”

She slips in, her body is deliciously warm, but wriggly. I wrap my arms around her.

“Mummy?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Mmmm …”

“I think we should have a pony.”

My eyes pop open. She looks up at me, her gaze big and innocent. Little manipulative madam.

“We could call him Harvey,” she suggests sweetly.

“Forget what we could call him, where do you intend to keep him?”

“In my room of course. He can sleep with me.”

“Horses don’t like to live in little girls’ rooms.”

“Why not?” she demands.

I grin. “Because they don’t like the smell of little girls’ farts.”

She is torn between wanting to giggle and indignation. Janna is at that age when she finds farts extremely hilarious. Her favorite story is about the chicken that farted so loudly it scared away the wolf that was going to eat it. This time though she decides that the horse is more important. “My farts are not smelly,” she cries indignantly.

I put my finger on her button nose. “What about when you eat broccoli, hmmm?”

“I’ll stop eating broccoli.”

“No, you won’t.”

She wrinkles her nose. “All right I’ll go out of the room when I need to fart.”

“Yes, but what about when you fart while you are sleeping?”

She covers her mouth to stop herself from giggling. Then her eyes widen suddenly and she reaches out her hand to touch my neck. “What happened, Mummy?”

“I borrowed Aunty Cin’s necklace last night, and I was careless when I took it off. It left a mark.”

She frowns. “Does it hurt?”

“Actually, it doesn’t. Are you hungry?”

“Yes. Can we have lotsa eggs for breakfast?” she asks.

“You can have whatever you like, munchkin.”

“Yay! Spanish omelets with lotsa cheese and strawberry jam.”

Ugh. “Yeah, sure.”

She squeals with delight, hurls herself out of bed and takes off down the hallway.

“No running, kiddo! And don’t wake Aunty Cindy,” I shout after her, but of course, that falls on tiny deaf ears.

I haul myself out of bed. My back is more than a little sore from last night’s excitement. I stretch until it pops.

Then I follow Janna to the kitchen. Just in time to see her tug open the fridge and reach for the carton of eggs on the top shelf. As it slips out of her hand, I swoop in past her, and save the eggs. Putting the carton safely on the counter next to the oven, I turn towards her.

“Sorry, Mummy. I wanted to help.”

“I know, sweets, but we don’t want eggs all over the floor again, do we?”

She shakes her head decisively.

“Okay, get the cheese and the rest of the ingredients out.”

She runs to gather those items while I break a few eggs into a plastic mixing bowl and set it on our tiny kitchen table. She arrives with a fork. I let her beat the eggs while I grate the cheese. Then I watch her gleefully dump handfuls of cheese into the bowl.

She stirs the mixture slowly, her tiny mouth set in such a determined scowl it brings a small smile to my face.

When she is finished, I get the eggs into a pan while she sits at the table watching me.

“About my pony,” she begins.

My back is to her and I smile quickly at her determination. Just like my sister she is.

I turn around. “Janna, you know we can’t have a pony while we’re living in an apartment, don’t you?”

She sighs heavily. “Can we move to a house?”

“No, darling, we’d have to move to the country and that would be impossible right now because I have to go to work. Besides, you don’t want to leave Aunty Cindy, do you?”

She shakes her head, her curls bouncing against her cheeks.

“No, I think we’d miss her too much, don’t you?”

“Can we get a horse next year?”

“Maybe next year,” I say, because in Janna’s world next year could be tomorrow, next week, next month, or a few years from now. Any date in the future is next year to her.

Her forehead knits and she folds her arms. “Can I have a kangaroo instead?”

“Kangaroos live in Australia, sweetie. How about we get a cute little rabbit for you?”

She grins suddenly, happy again.

I serve her a plateful of eggs and she immediately spoons strawberry jam on top of it. I pour her a glass of apple juice and sit down across from her. She digs in happily. This girl loves her food and it’s always a pleasure to watch her devour her meals.

“What would you like to do today?” I ask, kicking off our morning ritual.

Janna beams. “Don’t you have to work today?”

“Not until this afternoon, which means, we have all morning for fun stuff.”

“Yay!” she cries lifting both her hands up.

I butter a slice of toast. “So what do you want to do?”

“Can we go to the park?”

“Yes, and we can take some bread for the ducks.”

She takes a bite of her toast and licks the jam from her sticky fingers. “Bertha said I was good yesterday so can I have ice cream today?”

“Oh, she did, did she?”

Janna nods fiercely, dark eyes glittering. “I was good yesterday. I was very good.”

“In that case, I’ll take you for ice cream.”

“Yes!” she cries, clapping her little hands.

I clear the dishes while Janna finishes her juice. “If we’re going to the park, what do we have to do first?”

“Clean the kitchen.”

“Yes, and …,” I prompt with a smile.

“Brush our teeth.”

“Right! What else?”

“Get dressed real nice.”

“Well, not too nice.”

“Wash our faces.”

“Definitely.”

She leaps from the table and tears out of the kitchen, dragging her teddy bear along after her, naked feet slapping down the hallway to her room. I don’t bother to tell her not to run. She’s way too excited about the park. I just go after her, thinking about the park, my shift at the casino, and what Cindy has planned for us afterwards.