"I'm used to it"

She wanted to stay home from shul (synagogue)
to be next to me; I had been gone for so long.
I needed just to rest, not play with kids.
Shul promised lots of kids to play with,
and a lunch invitation with lots of good food.
But I couldn't deny her the simple right
to stay in her own home,
with her mommy.

She agreed to my conditions:
If she wants to be with me,
she can play quietly in my room.
She can rest in abba's (daddy's) bed.
If she gets hungry, she'll have to make a sandwich herself.

Barbies, clothes, blankets, horses and a little stroller appeared in my room.
She said she'd do all the talking between the barbies in her head.

We were settled into our separate/together time.
I had to use the bathroom.
I creaked and yiey!d my way out of bed,
limped and dragged my disembodied leg with me to the bathroom.
In a few minutes I was back to bed,
painfully owing and moaning myself back to lying down.

My green-eyed six-year-old looked at me,
waiting for me to get comfortable.
I told her I didn't want her to see me like this,
in pain.
She said
"It's OK ima, I'm used to it....
would you like me to bring you a drink of water?"