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"Read to me," she asks Maddie.
"Sure, but let's finish breakfast first," Maddie suggests, then turns to me. "No, I enjoy it very much. My real dream is to teach yoga full-time, but again–I have bills to pay. Until I can set up my studio or get work at really exclusive studios that pay their teachers well, I can't afford to do that."
"You said you were studying?" I ask.
"Yeah, I’m taking an evening business course at Columbia so that one day I can start that studio of mine."
I nod, reluctantly impressed. It's clear that Maddie isn't lazy. What's more, that kind of dedication will look good in court–a hard-working older sister caring for her younger brother while working full-time and studying.
As we continue our conversation, Carmen becomes restless, playing with her oatmeal and spooning some onto the table, creating funny patterns.
"Stop that, Carmen," I say. "Food is for eating, not playing with."
"I don't want to eat. I want to read," she objects. Growing up in a household where food wasn't a given, as my mentally ill mother sometimes forgot all about it, I have a hard time dealing with people wasting food.
"We eat first," I say firmly, "then you can read. But you have to finish your food."
"I don't want to," Carmen objects and throws the remaining contents of her bowl on the floor.
"Enough," I say angrily, standing up, and Carmen sticks her tongue out at me. Dammit, this is not how I envisioned bonding with my daughter this morning.
"Hey," Maddie says, "calm down. It's OK, Carmen, but no tongues outside your mouth. That's what dogs do, not humans." Carmen laughs, and Maddie starts wiping up the spilled porridge before Gina comes and helps out. "Carmen, take your book and look at it for a minute, then I will read to you."
Maddie turns to me. "You're right that this is wrong, but kids don't respond well when you get angry. For them, that's just another form of attention. The best thing to do is to be firm but kind. Keep your voice level."
At this, I hike my eyebrows up. My nannies usually don't lecture me on how to raise my daughter. Scrap that. They never lecture me about how to raise my daughter. Not even my staff, like Gina, who have been with me for years, do that. They help me out, help me plan things, and give advice when I ask for it, but they don't lecture me.
"Look, I'm not telling you what to do," Maddie says, lifting her hands in the air as if to appease me. "It's just I had this really difficult child once, so I took courses in how to parent difficult children. One of the first things I learned was to stop getting angry. For the kid, however weird that sounds, it's often a reward. They get your attention. You have to put a stop to it, like tell her we won't read the book for her if she does this kind of thing but keep yourself calm."
I take this in.
"Who gave this course?" I ask.
"Online. Yale. It’s taught by this guy called Dr. Kazdin. You can take it yourself. Not that I think Carmen is difficult, but it never hurts. He has regular parenting courses too."
I nod, thoughtfully. This could help me if I have to go to court. I'll look into it later in the day.
"Thank you," I say with a nod to Maddie.
She looks shocked, and I laugh.
"Look, no matter what you think about me; I appreciate honesty. Directness. What I don't appreciate is someone throwing a hissy fit about something inconsequential. Men go out for beers or drinks sometimes to blow off steam. So, my friends could have minded their tongues some, I agree. But making noise in a coffee shop, on the other hand, is not a crime. Nor is checking someone out." I raise my eyebrows suggestively. "Plus, I didn't know about your schedule when I came home late yesterday. Maybe I should have checked in with you, but I had a... weird day. It happens. Don't judge people before you know them."
Maddie looks at me appraisingly, then nods.
"You're perceptive," she says reluctantly.
"Perhaps," I say with a wink, then stand up. "All right, ladies, I'm going to go. Carmen, no more throwing the food on the floor, all right? Gina worked hard to prepare your meal; you need to thank her, not throw it on the floor. Aren't you still hungry?"
Carmen looks at me through thick lashes. "Maybe," she confesses, and I laugh.
"Then, maybe, Gina can give you a little bit more porridge if you promise to eat it nicely."
"OK, Daddy," Carmen agrees. "I want a hug because you're going now." She's been sitting on a regular chair today and bounces off it to go around the table to hug me.
"Love you, Daddy," she says as she wraps her tiny arms around me.
"Love you too, pumpkin. I'll see you tonight, OK?"
