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Rosie knows a lot of things. She’s six and a half years old now, after all.
She knows how to read. She’s a really good reader, even better than some of her class, but her dad reminds her that everybody is good at different things so that’s okay. She knows how to roller skate indoors by herself or outdoors if she’s holding Daddy’s hand. She knows that Abuelo likes chocolate and if she offers to share her cookies with him and then asks to spend the night at his house, he’ll always say yes faster. She knows how to jump rope and she can sort things in alphabetical order and she likes to stand at the kitchen counter with Daddy or Grandpa and make stuff to eat. She knows that she doesn’t like cauliflower but loves broccoli. She knows a lot about firefighting, way more than anybody else at school.
But there are also plenty of things that Rosie doesn’t know yet. Her dad always tells her that you can learn something new every day, and to always ask questions. So she does! She has a lot of questions.
“What day is it today?” she asks, looking up at her Grandpa from her place at his kitchen table.
“Today is Saturday,” Grandpa tells her, smiling down at her where he’s standing at the counter pouring coffee.
“Oh!” Rosie answers, taking a bite of her pancakes for breakfast. They’re special Christmas pancakes that her Grandpa made for her, with red and green sprinkles in them and a little bowl of sliced kiwi and strawberries on the side. “What did you say this is again?” she asks him now, trying to remember the word.
Grandpa grins, sitting down in the chair next to hers and reaching across to take one of her strawberries with his fingers. “Festive,” he reminds her.
“Oh, yeah,” Rosie remembers, her mouth full of pancake. “Fes-dive.”
“Close enough.” Rosie looks up as her Abuelo walks into the kitchen from the hallway, smiling at her across the table. He puts his hand on Grandpa’s shoulder and she watches as they kiss. Some of her friends at school think that kissing is yucky, but Rosie doesn’t really think so. Some of her friends have parents who kiss, but for Rosie she mostly has Grandpa and Abuelo, and when they kiss they look so happy. She doesn’t think that’s yucky at all. “Good morning, my Rosie,” he adds, dropping his hand to the top of her head as he takes the cup of coffee that was left for him on the counter. “How are your pancakes?”
Rosie swallows her bite, smiles, and says, “Festive.”
Her grandparents laugh really big, and she laughs too because she likes the sound of it so much. Abuelo sits down on her other side and Grandpa gets up again, going to the fridge and getting out Abuelo’s breakfast. It’s not as delicious as hers, she doesn’t think, but it has the same red and green fruits.
“What about your breakfast, Grandpa?” she asks him, tilting her head to watch him as he moves around the kitchen.
“I ate it already,” he tells her, smiling. “You two are sleepyheads.”
Abuelo leans in to whisper to Rosie, the bright silver in his hair shining in the kitchen light. “You know what I think?” he asks her.
“What?”
“I think,” he says, “your Grandpa wakes up way too early.”
Rosie thinks about this. Her Dad also wakes up early, but that’s because he has a job. And sometimes, when it’s not Saturday, she has to wake up early. But that’s because she has to go to school for first grade.
“You’re right,” she decides, nodding her head as she spears another bite of pancakes with her fork. “Because he doesn’t have a job.”
Abuelo gives Grandpa a familiar smile across the table. Rosie isn’t sure what it means, but she knows what it looks like— how Abuelo’s eyes get soft and his eyebrows go up and his face looks funny and his sharp teeth poke out beneath his mustache. She likes this smile. She likes how Grandpa responds, the way he tilts his head back and laughs and sounds like Daddy.
But she has another question.
“When is Daddy coming to get me?” she asks. She knows that she stays at Abuelo and Grandpa’s house usually when her dad is at work, which is sometimes at night. That’s why she has her own room at their house, which used to be her dad’s room when he was little. But he always comes to pick her up.
“Not today, Rosie May,” Abuelo reminds her with a tap of his fingers to the table between them. “Remember? We’re taking you to the firehouse for the—”
“The Christmas party!” Rosie says, remembering suddenly and bouncing in her seat. “I forgot!”
Abuelo smiles. “Go ahead and finish your breakfast, okay?” he says. “We can play before it’s time to go.”
Time passes quickly when you are six years old and have grandparents who want to play with you all the time. Rosie spends her morning playing with Abuelo and petting Olive the cat who loves to lay by the window. She takes a little bit of time to read a book she brought home from school in her backpack. Then she watches an episode of a cartoon from her favorite spot upside-down on the couch. After that, Grandpa invites her into the kitchen. She climbs up onto a chair— carefully, of course— and helps him make something to take to the firehouse for the party. She asks some more questions as she stirs, like what’s an appetizer? and where do cranberries come from? Grandpa especially loves it when she asks questions, because as he told her one time, he has a lot of questions about the world, too.
Before she knows it, it’s time to go. Abuelo helps her with her hair. He’s really good at it, and always knows what she means when she says she wants her curls out. He’s almost as good as her dad, but not as good. Daddy is the best. But Abuelo does have a little box of bows and butterfly clips, and he always lets her pick her own. Today, she picks two butterflies for one side and one bow for the other side and Abuelo puts her on the bathroom counter so she can see, and waits for her nod of approval. Then, they help her into her booster seat in the back of their car and even let her pick the song as they drive.
The firehouse is one of Rosie’s most favorite places in the world. It’s big and there’s so much to see, and she knows all the best hiding spots for hide-and-seek. She loves the firetrucks and the kitchen and when she gets to go down the fire pole. But what Rosie loves most of all about the firehouse is—
“Daddy!”
She tugs away from Grandpa’s hand as soon as they cross the threshold and takes off, running in between the trucks as her dad drops down to one knee and opens his arms all the way out for her. She doesn’t slow down at all as he smiles his biggest, brightest smile and she slams into him with full force. He rocks slightly back but doesn’t fall, because her dad is a really strong firefighter and she can’t knock him over even if she tries really hard. She knows, because she’s tried it a lot of times.
“My girl!” he cheers, lifting her easily off of her feet as she throws her arms around his neck and he turns his head to kiss her all over her face. “Hi, baby.”
“Hi, Daddy! We brought an appetizer!”
He laughs, squeezing her tight. “You did, huh?” he asks. “Are you gonna let me eat it all?”
“No!” she insists. “It’s for everybody. Did you see my butterflies?” She turns her head so that he can inspect them, the little blue one and the little pink one on one side of her head.
“Ooh,” Daddy says, reaching up and tucking some of her hair back into place. “Did Abuelo put them in for you?”
Rosie nods proudly as her grandparents catch up to them and she turns to look at them. “But I picked them out!” she adds, and her dad smiles and kisses her cheek.
“You did a good job,” he tells her, setting her back on her feet. “Wanna go play?”
Rosie really does. She nods her head and then waits for him to smile, gesturing around the room for her to go, and then she takes off without another second. In the firehouse, there’s a lot to do. And it isn’t long at all before most of her favorite people arrive and she leaps from one room to another, weaving in and out and getting hugs and kisses from everyone she loves. Well, not everyone— her cousins and her aunt and uncle aren’t here but she asks her dad and he promises her that they’ll see them soon for their home Christmas instead, so it’s okay. In the meantime, she follows Aunt May around for a while and then she goes to find Abuelo again because she really likes it when he puts her on his lap. There are other kids here, too, and Rosie knows all of them. She’s heard her Grandpa joking about how she’s the original firehouse baby, and she only kind of knows what he means by that but she likes how it makes her feel.
There’s food— the appetizer that she made with Grandpa and a bunch of other stuff. Aunt Cat makes her a plate because her dad is busy setting up the rest of the stuff and Rosie makes sure to say thank you before she sits to eat. She’s still perched on her high-up stool by the railing where she can look out and see the firetrucks when her dad comes over to her and sits on the other side.
“Hi, peach,” he says, smiling at her. “Are you having fun?”
Rosie nods her head. “I always have fun here!” she tells him.
Behind her, there’s a commotion. She turns her head to see, drawn by the sound of laughter. When she looks, a group of people are gathered around her grandparents, and they’re standing in the middle of the room beneath a wooden beam.
“Mistletoe!” someone laughs and Rosie watches as her grandparents look at each other all soft and warm.
“Like they need an excuse,” she hears Aunt May laughing, and then her Grandpa waves his hand at her and pulls her Abuelo in with his hand on his hip. She and her dad watch as Grandpa grabs Abuelo’s pink cheeks and kisses him on the lips while everybody cheers.
Rosie has more questions now. Luckily, her dad is right there and he knows all the answers about everything.
“Why are they clapping?” she asks. Grandpa and Abuelo kiss all the time, but for some reason this kiss seems important.
Her dad leans in and points above her grandparents’ heads, to the little branch hanging from the beam. “You see the leaves and berries?” he asks her, and she nods. “That’s mistletoe,” he explains. “And there’s an old tradition that when two people are under it, they have to kiss.”
Rosie thinks about that for a moment.
“They have to kiss on the lips?” she asks.
Her dad tilts his head. “Usually,” he answers.
She looks over at the mistletoe again, and her grandparents laughing. “Do they have to be married?” she asks.
Daddy smiles at her. “No,” he says. “They don’t have to be.”
“Not everybody likes to be married,” Rosie shrugs, and he smiles again.
“You’re right,” he says. “Who told you that?”
“Nobody,” Rosie answers. “I just think that.”
But now that he asks, she wonders about it, too. She knows that not everyone wants to get married, because not everyone in her family is married. But the part she’s not sure about, now that she’s thinking about it, is why. Abuelo and Grandpa are married, and they love it. Uncle Chris and Aunt Audrey are also married, and she really likes to look at her aunt’s ring. Everybody Rosie knows who is married is very, very happy— or at least, they seem like it to her. And she’s never been to a wedding, but they seem really fun in movies.
“Daddy?” she asks, tilting her head. “Why would somebody not want to get married?”
He looks at her for a second, like he’s thinking. “Well,” he answers. “There are lots of reasons. For some people, they want to but they haven’t found the right person yet. For other people, they aren’t sure. Sometimes, people get married and then they don’t like it so they get divorced.”
“Divorced,” she says, thinking back. She’s pretty sure that her friend at school who goes to his mom’s house sometimes and other times his dad’s has told her that it’s because his parents are that. Divorced.
“And other people just…don’t like the idea of having a husband or a wife or anything like that,” her dad continues.
Rosie has never thought about this before. Everything in her life has just always been the way it is. She’s never had a reason to wonder about this topic, but now that she’s thinking about it she has questions again.
She looks at her dad across the table and wants to be closer to him, so she shimmies down from her chair and walks over to his, where he smiles and lifts her up into his lap. She situates herself and looks up at him, where he’s looking at her soft. It’s kind of like how Grandpa and Abuelo look at each other. Rosie is sure that it’s because they all love each other, but she’s starting to learn that some love is different from others.
“Do you have questions?” her dad asks patiently.
Rosie nods. “Why aren’t you married?” she asks him.
He looks over at the mistletoe again, and then back to Rosie. “I wouldn’t want to get married,” he tells her. “Like I said, some people just don’t like that idea.”
Rosie thinks. “Why not?”
“Well,” her dad says, “I never did. Even when I was little like you, there were some other kids who would imagine getting married when they got older. Or they would imagine having a boyfriend or a girlfriend. But I didn’t imagine that.”
Rosie thinks that she’s a smart kid. She thinks so because people tell her that. Her Daddy, her grandparents, sometimes her teacher. But what he’s saying to her right now is not making sense yet.
“Are you confused?” her dad asks gently. He always knows what she’s feeling even when she hasn’t said it yet. He nods his head and turns her a little, so that she’s facing him. Without thinking she puts her fingers on his shiny badge, the one that says Diaz. Like her, and her uncle and her grandparents. They all have the same name, which Rosie likes.
“It’s like this,” her dad says gently. “There’s lots of ways to love each other. Your grandparents love each other romantically. Do you know what that means?”
Rosie shakes her head.
“It means,” he explains, “that they fell in love, and they wanted to be each other’s boyfriend, and then they wanted to be each other’s husband. Do you know some other people in your life who love each other romantically?”
Rosie thinks. “Uncle Chris?” she guesses.
“Yes,” her dad says. “Uncle Chris and Aunt Audrey. Also Cat and Amari, right?”
“Yes,” Rosie repeats. “Or, um…Aunt Maddie?”
“Right!” her dad says. “You know lots of people who are married or love someone romantically. But there are some people who don’t love anybody like that.” He pauses and brushes a strand of her hair out of her face. “Some people want to be in love with a man, or with a woman, or someone else, and we know that all of that is okay, right?”
Rosie nods. “Love is love,” she says, remembering the phrase she’s heard before.
Her dad smiles really big when she says that. “Exactly,” he answers, tapping her nose. “But some people also just—” He shrugs his shoulders. “—don’t want to be in love with anybody. Some people just love their friends or their family, and that’s okay, too.”
Rosie thinks about that.
“Like you?” she asks. “And how…our family is just one dad and one Rosie.”
Daddy smiles even bigger and squeezes her a little bit.
“That’s exactly right, baby,” he tells her. “You’re so smart, you know that?”
“I know,” Rosie replies, and he laughs.
“Do you also know that I love you the most out of anybody in this world?” her dad asks her.
“Yeah!” she answers. That one is easy. He tells her all the time. “I love you, Daddy.”
She leans into him and he hugs her, and it’s her favorite feeling ever to be tucked into his arms like this. But even so, Rosie has one more question, so she picks her head up and looks at him.
“So,” she starts, “you don’t have to be married for the mistletoe?”
“Nope,” her dad tells her, his blue eyes sparkly. “Why do you ask?”
“Because can we go?” she asks, getting excited at the thought of it. “You and me?”
Her dad smiles. “You want to kiss me under the mistletoe?” he asks, and she nods excitedly.
“Please?”
He grins. “Let’s go.”
So he carries her over to the middle of the room and lifts her up high so she can see it closer. It’s pretty, all green and red and white with round little leaves. And everyone turns to look at them, including Grandpa and Abuelo.
Grandpa smiles up at her. “What are you doing up there?” he asks her as Daddy drops her back down into his arms and she smiles brightly.
“We’re going to kiss too!” she says. “Right, Daddy?”
“That’s what mistletoe is for,” he says seriously.
So Rosie leans in and kisses him really big on his cheek, like her Abuelo does, the kind of kiss that goes mwah! She pulls back smiling, and everybody cheers, and then her daddy leans in and kisses her on the cheek, too, and before she knows it he’s kissing her all over her face until she’s laughing really hard and everybody is smiling.
And later, Rosie will lay in her bed at home and Daddy will tuck her in and kiss her goodnight, and she’ll tell him that she really likes mistletoe. And tomorrow, when she wakes up, there will be a little bundle of it hanging over her bed. Just like magic.