Lessons my Goddaughter Has Taught Me

The ripple of childish giggles broke my concentration. I glanced up at the door from my paperwork to see my four-AND-THREE-QUARTER-year-old goddaughter stood in the doorway, channelling her inner Shirley Temple.

"Hello poppet, how are you?"

"Gooooood." She scurried over and I pulled her into my lap. "Mum's coming. She's just talking to the lady downstairs."

"No kindy today?"

"Nope!" She seemed almost proud of the fact. "Is Rachel coming today?"

Now, I should point out that we were still very much together at this point.

"I hope so. She said she would."

"But you didn't tell her I was coming, did you?"

"No. Be a nice little surprise for her, won't it?"

She nodded gleefully as she leaned over to the drawer and fished out some paper and crayons. I turned a blind eye as she also stole a couple of peanut M&Ms from the open bag. She smiled guiltily as she headed for the couch under the window.

The small one's mother then appeared in the doorway. She told me that she hoped her dental appointment would not take too long. I replied that if she got restless she could join me on an errand run. With the obligatory warning to behave, Mother told me somebody would pick her daughter up from my place tonight.


A little while later, as I was logged into Facebook, I beckoned her over. I've learned my lesson now. Amid the chorus of "Who's that?" to former classmates, acquaintances from the party, former colleagues and maternal cousins, I realised that there are only two of my friends she actually knows: Rachel and her godmother, my uni girlfriend, her "Aunty G".

The sharp intake of air frightened me for a moment. I thought she'd choked on an M&M, but thankfully no. She spoke before I could.

"She's very pretty!"

And I fell into the trap. I asked her who, and she stumbled over the name. I blithely agreed after correcting her. Remorse flooded my mind. She had me, and we both knew it. In a voice perfectly weighted between teasing and laughter came the words “You li-i-i-ke her!”

I knew I had to back-pedal fast. I covered it pretty well with a quick “not as much as I do you” and a kiss for her cheek, but the damage was done. She continued to describe a Cinderella inspired (and really quite saccharine) fantasy. When she was done, I countered.

“And what about Rachel, darlin’?”

Consternated silence fell. She mused a while before shrugging her shoulders and returning to her crayons.

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"Aun'ee Raaach!"

In a spasm of exuberance, the crayons were strewn across the floor as she sprung from the couch and clamped onto my then girlfriend's left leg. A hand scruffled her hair as she crouched to her level.

I allowed them a moment together. Rachel is the only girlfriend I've had in my goddaughter's memory, so she they share something pretty special.

I pretended not to notice the sad smile that fought its way across Rachel's lips before it was suppressed as their embrace broke. I knew today would be difficult for her, it would be for both of us, but I just hoped that this little tyro, with her seemingly bottomless enthusiasm and boundless joy could break some of the sadness that would otherwise have hung over this office like a pall.

I dismissed the little one downstairs with $10 to fetch some sandwiches for us, and to give Rachel and I a moment to talk shop.

"OK, I'll be back in a minute"

Rachel mouthed her gratitude as she slipped a new folder of contracts into the tray.

"How are you?"

For my own reasons, my week until then had been desperately emotional. I could just tell that she was searching for an answer decidedly more elaborative than "I'm doin' OK". Such words were desperately inadequate, leading only to more questions.

My goddaughter returned with three small paper bags. She presented Rachel's garden salad first. Then mine, accompanied by the words "Lady said you like this," before slipping into Rachel's lap and opening her own bag.

"And what have you got?"

The ripples of guilty laughter spoke volumes.

"Vegemite and cheese!"

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Rachel left and I still had my goddaughter quite content on the couch.

"Sweetie, you wanna help me?"

She nodded vigourously.

"OK, I'll just get my jacket and we'll go."

"What are we doing?"

"We'll go pay a few bills, I have to go get a new watch battery, and some groceries. Then we'll go home and cook you some tea."

"OK!"

I should never have taken her to the jeweller given earlier events. As I was getting my watch battery, my goddaughter pressed her nose against (figuratively speaking) the display cabinet of engagement rings and mused a moment before exclaiming:

"You should buy ... that one for <insert name here>!"

The jeweller glanced at me, smiling coyly. One thing's for sure, I gotta admire my goddaughter's taste in jewellery. She didn't pick the biggest ring, or the most pricey, but a very nice, rather understated (for diamonds) 9ct yellow gold band with a 1/3ct diamond.

It was a nice ring, but not what I would have selected, IF I was going to buy this girl any jewellery at all. I was quite taken with the amethyst pendant on the white gold chain ...

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On to the supermarket where she acted as my gatherer and loader. Then it was home, where we cooked some pasta with a neapolitan-style sauce and desert: Eton mess with a slight twist. There may have been just a little whipped cream fight.

Her pseudo-stepfather (Mum's de facto) picked her up just as we were finshing the dishes. With another hug and a kiss - this time to my cheek, she was gone.




I'm spending some time with her this weekend. Actually, it's her birthday and I promised I would take her to the circus. I don't know who's more excited, because it's her first trip, and my first in almost 20 years.

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