With the Fire on High

Babygirl doesn’t even cry when I suck my teeth and undo her braid for the fourth time. If anything, I’m the one on the verge of tears, since at this rate we’re both going to be late.
“Babygirl, I’m sorry. I know it hurts. Mommy just doesn’t want you looking a hot mess.”
She seems unfazed by my apology, probably because thing (1) I’m not braiding tight enough to actually hurt her (which is why her hair is all loosey-lopsided!), and thing (2) Babygirl is watching Moana. And she loves Moana. So long as I let her watch Moana she’ll let me play with her hair till kingdom come. Thank goodness Angelica lets me use her Netflix account. I lean a little closer to the edge of the sofa so I can snatch up the baby hairs at the front of her head. This is the hardest part, and I have to start the braid tight and small to get it right.
“Emoni, vete. It’s time for you to head out. I’ll fix her hair.”
I don’t even look over at ‘Buela standing by the staircase that leads to the two bedrooms upstairs. “I got it, ‘Buela. I’m almost done.”
“You’re going to be late for school.”
“I know, but…” I trail off and it turns out I don’t have to say it, because in her way ‘Buela always understands.
She walks over and picks up the comb from where I set it on the couch. “You wish you could be the one taking her.”
I nod and bite my bottom lip. I worked so hard to get Babygirl into a good daycare, and despite a long wait list I kept calling and stopping by Mamá Clara’s, the woman who runs the childcare, until she snuck us into an opening. Now that Babygirl is actually going I’m freaking out. In her entire two years on earth, Babygirl has never not been with family. I braid to the very tip of her hair. The design is simple, some straight backs with a pink hair tie at the end that matches Babygirl’s outfit: little white collared shirt and pink pullover. She looks adorable. I wasn’t able to buy her more than three new outfits for daycare, but I’m glad I splurged on this one.