That August conversation should’ve been my first warning sign.
We were sitting on my front porch, iced tea sweating in our hands, when Daphna brought up her childcare situation.
“I’m so stressed about daycare,” she said, picking at the label on her glass. “They close randomly for training days, and I can’t keep missing work. My boss is already on my case.”
I pitied her. Being a single mom couldn’t be easy.
“I could help out occasionally,” I offered. “When you’re really in a bind.”
Her face lit up. “Really? Amy, that would be amazing. Just now and then when I’m stuck.”
“Occasionally,” I repeated, emphasizing the word. “Like emergency situations.”
“Of course! Just emergencies.”
She reached over and squeezed my hand. “You’re the best sister ever. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I should’ve gotten that in writing.
The first time it happened was on a Tuesday in late August. My alarm wasn’t supposed to go off for another hour when my doorbell rang at 5:40 a.m. I stumbled out of bed, my hair sticking up in 17 directions, and opened the door.
There stood Marcus and Tyler in their dinosaur pajamas, each clutching a stuffed toy. Marcus had his green T. rex; Tyler had his blue Triceratops. They looked half-asleep and confused.
“Auntie Amy!” Marcus said, his voice small and uncertain.
From the driveway, Daphna’s voice rang out bright and cheerful. “Got an early morning yoga class! You’re a lifesaver!”
I opened my mouth to respond, but her white SUV was already backing out, taillights disappearing around the corner.
No text. No warning. No, “Is this okay?”
Just two kids on my doorstep before dawn.
I looked down at the boys. Tyler was rubbing his eyes with his little fists. “I’m hungry,” he mumbled.
“Come on in,” I sighed, stepping aside. “Let’s find you some breakfast.”
I texted Daphna while the boys settled on my couch: “A heads-up would’ve been nice.”
She replied two hours later: “Sorry! Last-minute thing. You’re amazing! ❤️❤️”
The next morning, my doorbell rang at 5:38 a.m.
My nephews greeted me at the door in their pajamas, clutching the same stuffed dinosaurs. And my sister’s car was pulling away.
“This is just for today,” Daphna called out. “Promise!”
She repeated this the next day. And the day after that.
By the second week, I’d stopped being surprised. I just started setting my alarm earlier, keeping extra milk in the fridge, and moving my morning meetings to 10 instead of nine.
