A few evenings later, Andrew Sullivan opened his mailbox to find a small, white envelope, addressed to “Mixolydia Sullivan, Age 0.”  He frowned as he flipped the thing back and forth in his hands.  Who would send mail to his infant daughter?  He used his thumb to tear a jagged gash in the top of the envelope, and his puzzlement deepened.  Inside was a laminated card, with Lyddie’s name on one side and lots of small print on the other.

            He rounded on Erica as she stumbled through the front door, but his wife was as confused as he was.  Andrew dialed one of the tiny numbers on the back of the card, then strode to the kitchen with his cell phone glued to his ear.  He drummed his fingers impatiently against the side of his leg as he waded through an endless labyrinth of voice menus. 

“Welcome to Suleiman Kruld Financial Services, where our business is Insuring Your Piece of Mind™,” a pre-recorded man’s voice crooned on the other end of the call.  Soft electronic music warbled in the background.  “We know you want to be your best, so we’ll keep what’s best about you safe and secure.  Whether it’s your common sense or your sense of wonder, your dreams for the future or your ties to the past, we’ve got you covered!” 

Andrew rolled his eyes as he mashed the ‘0’ button on his phone.  “This must be some sort of scam,” he said.

A moment later, an operator connected on the other end of the line.  Andrew launched into his attack.  “Yes.  Hi. I’d like to know why your company is sending insurance cards to my daughter.  My infant daughter.  I would also like for this to stop, immediately.”

“We don’t have a policy,” he objected a moment later.  “That’s exactly my point!  We don’t want a policy.  We just want you to leave us –”

The operator chirped something on the other end of the line.  Andrew switched the phone to speaker mode and set it on the table so he could pace in frustration around it.  “She’s just a baby!” he growled.  “My name is Andrew Sullivan, and I’m her father.”  Computer keys clattered loudly from the operator’s side.

“All right sir,” the operator said after a brief pause.  “Let’s see what we can do to help.  Can you give me your daughter’s full name?”

“Mixolydia Sullivan,” Andrew said.

More typing.  “Yes sir, I see her right here,” the operator said.  “If you can please put Miss Mixolydia Sullivan on the line, I’d like to ask her a few questions to verify her identity.”

“She’s SEVEN… MONTHS… OLD!” Andrew exclaimed.  Erica patted his arm soothingly.

“Yes sir, that’s what my records show as well,” the operator said. “Should I stay on the line, or would Miss Mixolydia Sullivan prefer to call back at a more convenient time?”

***

They cornered Aunt Delilah about the insurance card the next day, and the conversation grew ugly fast.  Cade registered the grownups’ tense faces and strained voices and decided he needed to act.  He scooped Lyddie into his arms and led Melisma and Doria downstairs to the most distant part of the basement.

“Let’s play a game,” Cade said, focusing his sisters’ attention on himself.  “It’s called ‘Find the Blob.’  Doria can hide somewhere, while we count to a million.  Then we can find her.”

Doria squeaked with delight when she heard the game’s name.  She loved games that were all about her.  Cade led Melisma behind the water heater, and the two closed their eyes.  Cade didn’t know how to count to a million, but Doria didn’t either, so she couldn’t tell the difference.

“One… two… three… four…” Cade began.

“You should be thanking me!” Aunt Delilah shouted upstairs.

“Lilah, they’re our kids!” Erica exclaimed in response.

“Sixteen…. uh, seventeen…” Cade raised his voice to cover the shouting.

Doria giggled from about six feet away.  It wasn’t that big a basement, and there weren’t that many places she could hide.

“Twenty-three… twenty-four… ONE MILLION!” Cade concluded.  He and Melisma opened their eyes and clambered out from behind the heater.

“Ba,” Lyddie remarked.  Doria had thrown herself under a pile of dress-up clothes, with her feet and legs completely sticking out, wriggling slightly with excitement.  Lyddie sat next to her, sucking on the hem of her pants.

“Lyddie wins!” Cade announced.  “That’s one point for Lyddie!”

“Hey, no fair!  Lyddie gotta shut her eyes!”  Doria scowled as she pulled herself free of the dress-up clothes.

Melisma laughed as she helped Doria up.  “Lyddie’s just a baby, Doria.”

“Yeah, a cheater-bug baby,” Doria grumped.

The children positioned themselves for another round of “Find the Blob.”  The shouting continued upstairs.

            “We had total peace of mind before,” Dad boomed.  “We don’t need you, or anyone else, to ensure it.”  Melisma’s shoulders tensed at his tone.

            “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE…” Cade yelled.  Doria scrambled to find a new hiding place.

            “SEVEN… EIGHT… NINE…”

            “Ba,” a tiny voice called from behind the beanbag.

            “Lyddie!  Stop finding me!” wailed Doria.

            Melisma and Cade laughed again.  “Maybe that’s enough ‘Find the Blob,’” Melisma suggested.  “Let’s play something else.”

            “Kay.  I wanna play ‘Kick the Lyddie,’” Doria huffed.

            Cade shook his head.  “No kicking babies, Doria.”

            The argument upstairs went on and on.  “…took you into our house…” Andrew ranted.  Cade furrowed his brow as he arranged checkers on a board.  Melisma sat with her arms around her knees and watched him work.

            “…doesn’t last forever, unless you do something to protect…” Aunt Delilah countered.  Doria dragged her blanket to a beanbag at the far end of the room.  She settled into a corner and stared angrily at Lyddie.

            “…not your decision to make!” Erica exclaimed.  Lyddie lay on her side, drooling sleepily onto her red and blue, drool-covered shape-sorting toy.

            “Cheater-bug,” Doria muttered.

Cade and Melisma exchanged uncomfortable glances as the fight finally came to a head.  “…Don’t want you in our house!” Andrew bellowed.

“…Wouldn’t stay here if you got down on your knees!”  Aunt Delilah countered.  The front door slammed, and she roared down the street in her battered hatchback sedan.  Just like that, their aunt was gone.

The Sullivan family didn’t see her again for six years.