TOO MUCH

“Would you like to pay for me?” I proposed.

“Yes!” Saoirse exclaimed.

Her little feet pitter-pattered upon the floor to the beat of a spontaneous happy dance. Her long, blonde hair whipped around. She giggled and twirled before reaching her arms up so I could scoop her into them. The laundromat hummed with the ambience of churning machines.

I held Saoirse close to the coin slot on one of the many washers, gave her six quarters, and watched her tiny fingers push each one in. She had only turned three a week ago.

“Dada!”

“Yes?”

“Look!”

Another mother and her child entered the laundromat at that moment, briskly walking with her own little girl behind her. The small girl that followed held a tattered blue bunny plush that was clearly loved.

“Can I play with her, Dada?”

“Laundromats aren’t for playing.”

“But it’s boring!” Saoirse yelled. I winced at the inevitable scene she’d make.

“Young lady,” I scolded.

“She looks nice!” she argued. “I wanna be friends!”

I sighed. I looked at her. Saoirse glared at me. As she’d made abundantly clear, boredom was rearing its ugly head. Other than the four of us, two adults and their kids, the laundromat was empty.

“If you ask her mother and she says yes—and only if she says yes, then you may. Don’t be too loud.”

Saoirse’s face lit up as I set her down. She b-lined for the other little girl and her mother. She was always like that.

She nearly trips on the tiled floor before completing her brief journey from one end of the place to the other. I watched her run slow to a walk. She approached the tall woman, loading clothes into a dryer.

“Escuse’ me?” Saoirse misspoke.

The woman, the other young girl’s elegantly clad mother, turned to her. I couldn’t quite tell from where I stood, but it appeared that the woman’s eyes didn’t soften like most people’s would upon seeing a sweet little girl.

“Did you wander off? Where’s your parents?”

“Dada is over there.”

Saoirse pointed and the woman moved her gaze from her to me. I awkwardly waved.

“She was wondering if she could play with your daughter?” I inquired.

“I’m not so sure,” the woman said. “Darla isn’t a talker.”

“Is that her name?” Saoirse asked.

“Yes, but—”

Before she could finish, Saoirse ran up to Darla.

“Hi Darla! I’m Saoirse! I like your bunny!”

“She’s shy. I told you that.”

Saoirse ignored Darla’s mother. It was evident that she was transfixed on the stuffed bunny. Darla continued to cower like a cornered mouse.

“Can I see your bunny?” Saoirse asked.

Darla shook her head.

“Play nice, honey,” I said. “That’s her toy.”

The two girls stood there, almost as if they were in a standoff. Saoirse inched closer. Darla backed away.

As I started over towards the children to retrieve Saoirse, it began. She reached for Darla’s bunny. It was something about how she wanted to show Darla how to make the stuffy dance, yet regardless of the intent she grabbed it. Darla yelled and pulled back. The brief tug of war ended in the bunny stuffy missing an arm and Darla sobbing.

“Oh no! I’m sorry!”

“Get away from my little girl!” Darla’s mom yelled, her face beaming red.

Saoirse, wide-eyed, ran to me. Her face fell as I picked her up.

“I’m sorry Darla.”

“You see what she’s done!” Darla’s mother yelled, as she comforted her own child.

“She didn’t mean to rip it. She just wanted to—"

“I know full well what this impatient girl wants, and it’s clearly too much for my daughter. Will you come and fetch her already?!”

I looked at Darla, who was still wiping her tears away, and I understood.

Saoirse didn’t kick, nor did she scream, but I could see her wiping away her own tears. I walked back over to the machine I was using with her in my arms. Saoirse put her head in the crook of my neck, hiding her face. I sat down on one of the chairs.

“She doesn’t like me.”

“I know, sweet pea, but you have to not take things from people.”

“That mean lady said I was ‘inpatent’.”

“Impatient?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” I sighed. “You were a bit.”

“Is too much for my daughters,” Saoirse said solemnly, echoing the woman’s words.

“She didn’t mean that.”

“I’m a ‘too much’ girl.”

For a three year old, that’s a lot to feel. I drew a breath, taking it in. I gently rubbed her head. She sniffled.

“Some people are grumpy people,” I explained. “I don’t think her mom should’ve been so mean to you, but I also think you shouldn’t have grabbed Darla’s toy.”

“Will the bunny be okay?”

I looked across the laundromat and watched Darla’s mother working away with a portable sewing kit.

“He’ll be okay.”

Some hugs later, we were both startled by clicking heels. Darla’s mother stood before us. She looked down at Saoirse. Darla cradled her stuffy, who was fresh from surgery.

“I’m sorry for being mean to you.”

Saoirse looked up, still teary-eyed.

“I ripped it. I was bad.”

Darla’s mother sighed gently.

“I’m not good with other people’s kids,” Darla’s mom explained. Her voice quiet, regretful even.

“Darla has always been quiet too. In that way, she’s identical to me. I didn’t know how to handle how excitable you were, just as she didn’t. I shouldn’t have yelled at you though.”

Darla hid behind her mother’s leg. Saoirse noticed.

“I’m sorry I ripped your bunny.”

“Mommy fixed him,” she whispered.

“Can we be friends? I will be gentle with him.”

Darla looked up at her mother. Her mother smiled down at her in reply. There was a comfortable silence, as we waited for Darla to leave the sanctuary that was behind her mother’s leg. Eventually, she did.

The laundromat had never been so lively before.

Josie Newhams is a writer and upcoming author based in Pennsylvania. Beyond their love for writing, Josie enjoys voice acting and singing. They study Creative Writing at Full Sail University, and they want to incorporate all their skills into projects they create. Their writing tends to focus on themes of neurodivergence, mental health, self love, and finding whimsy in the mundane. Planning to branch out into a variety of genres, Too Much is their first published work.