Can I Come to Work?

altEvery morning as I get ready for work, Elizabeth asks the same question.

“Can I come to work with you, Mommy?”

And every morning, I sigh and shake my head. “No. You’d be bored.”

She disagrees vehemently, “No! I want to go to work!”

“Mommy works for a long time. And there’s not tv.”

“I can bring my babies.”

“Yes, you could,” I say, nodding my head. “But the babies wouldn’t have anyplace to sleep.”

“They can sleep on my lap.”

“You have a lot of babies. I’m not sure they could fit.”

“They fit. My lap is big,” she gestures with both arms to show her enormous lap.

“Mommy wouldn’t be able to play with you.”

“That’s okay! I can play all by myself.”

“Oh baby. I wish you could come with me. Maybe we can talk Daddy into bringing you over for lunch one day.”

She sighs and nods her head.

But oh how I wish I could say yes! I wish I could help her get dressed, find her purse, and put on her shoes. I wish I could put her in her seat and drive her to my office where she’d sit and color, play with her dolls, and read her books. I wish I could take her to lunch with me where we’d talk about Princesses and Joseph and if we like black beans on our salads. I wish she could curl up under my desk for an afternoon nap, snoring softly while the music plays at my co-worker’s desk. I wish we could leave work together, both of us racing to get home and kick off our shoes while we tell Joseph about our day at work.

Wouldn’t that be nice?