Missing Her "Grands"

Vó-Vó and Vô-Vô left for Portugal on October 14th. We had all prepared Malía for the change; she'd already started attending French Pre-School 3 days a week, instead of her usual one day away from them.

A week went by. She'd mention her grandparents, but it was a passing, casual thing. Sometimes, she'd say "I can't see Vó-Vó and Vô-Vô because they in Po-tugal" , but it seemed ot be little more than a statement to get my confirmation.

Then, last Tuesday, I was getting her ready for Daycare (where she spends the other 2 days) and she stated very adamantly that she was not going to French School and she was not going to Dominique (daycare owner), that she was going to Vô-Vô. I explained to her that this was not possible; that they were in Portugal and would be for many, many sleeps. That even Santa would come before they came back, but that we could talk to them on the phone, anytime.
She thought about that for a moment then made me one of her famous "deals":

"Okay, Mama, I go to Dominique and I don't cry, but later you take me to Vô-Vô and Vó-Vó's house, okay?"
Sure, baby.
"And you make me dinner there. And, I eat it there."
Okay.

So, off we went, but as we passed the street that normally turns off onto their route, I heard a sob from the backseat. Tears were streaming down her face.

Malia, what's wrong? Why are you crying?
"Mommy, I miss Vô-Vô, I miss Vó-Vó."
I know baby.

She cried harder, but then stopped when she saw Dominique and ran into her arms.

After school, I had barely poked my head in the door when she reminded me of my promise to go to the house. So, off we went.

When we opened their garage door and she saw their car, she let out a whoop of joy- to her, the car meant they were home. She began calling for them at the top of her lungs. I opened the door into the house and showed her they weren't there, made her remember we'd taken our car, "Ruby" when we took them to the airport.

I thought she'd cry, but she just said, "I go look. You make me food, please."

So, as I got a snack ready for her, she went from room to room quietly checking, then came back, ate her food and we left.

I stopped at their mailbox, (one of those suburb multi-boxes a block away) and stood their confused as to which was theirs b/c they bear no numbers. Mal calmly told me which to open, but then when I pulled out the mail, lost it. Apparently, my dad always lets HER pull it out. I gave her a letter to hold and she clutched it like a security blanket all the way home.

The next day, my dad called. She told him she'd just had ice cream, she told him she went to the park and she told him she loved him, and walked off to watch Dora, happily.

When I took the phone, my dad was the one crying.

***Disclaimer: yes, I know the seat belt is UNDER her arm- we were in a parking lot :)