"All That, She Wants"

Juliet squeals. I open one eye and see that it’s still dark outside. I guess that it’s two or three in the morning. It’s not. It’s 5:30. Juliet wants to get up, and Juliet likes to get what she wants.

“Wife,” I say.

Melissa rolls over and moans. She usually leaps out of bed at Juliet’s first yelp. Most days, I don’t even hear either of them. I roll over and feel the empty space in bed. That’s how I know my ladies are awake. Not today. Today, it’s Daddy’s turn.

I fill the coffee maker with water and try to figure out how many scoops of coffee to add. Somewhere between multiplication and division, Juliet becomes apoplectic. She wants to get up. I want coffee. We can’t both win.

I’m in Juliet’s room. Juliet is sucking on her bottle like a savage, eying me with a furrowed brow. She’s furious that I took so long. She’s planning to hold it against me until she’s 18. I look to the corner of her changing table, where I would have put my coffee cup, if I had it.

I carry Juliet into the living room and put her on a blanket with some toys. I head back to the coffee maker. As soon as I’m out of sight, Juliet shrieks. She doesn’t want to be alone. I’m afraid if I keep giving in, I’ll make her a brat. And I’m afraid if I don’t, she’ll hate me. If I don’t drink a cup of coffee, I’m afraid neither one of us will survive until sunrise.

I bring my mug over to the floor where Juliet is begrudgingly amusing herself, chewing on a book. She drops “Moo Baa La La La” and lunges for my coffee. She wants whatever I have, particularly if she’s not allowed. Even as I write the rough draft of this post, she’s grabbing for my pen. I don’t give it to her, and she cries. Real tears.

We wear Juliet in the Baby Bjorn even when it kills ours backs. We keep Melissa’s old Blackberry charged because Juliet wants a working cell phone. We let her chew on the camera, the remote control and our noses. Whatever she wants. We want her to like us. I’m afraid we’re creating a monster.

Juliet lunges for the pen again. She screams and I give it to her. She smiles, and drops it and cries. I sip my coffee. I don’t know what she wants. But she does. Everything. Until we give it to her.