I didn’t love the idea of anyone braiding my hair, not even a child. “But you also … you might want to learn to do the hairstyle on yourself,” I said. “It’s different from doing it on someone else.” I realized too late that this could not be achieved. She was young and impatient. And she didn’t have the advantage of being able to see her work while she was braiding. With each new attempt, she was growing more frustrated.

Ten minutes into the lesson, Amelia and Fritz appeared in the bathroom doorway. Amelia had changed out of her jeans and into a silky purple wrap dress and low pumps. She wore red lipstick and gold hoop earrings.

“Looks like you guys are having fun.” Fritz, who had also changed, adjusted his tie and the collar of his sports jacket.

“We have leftover lasagna in the fridge,” Amelia said to me, then turned to Natalie. “Lights out at nine thirty, sweetheart.”

Amelia and Fritz both kissed Natalie on the forehead.

Natalie stopped mid-braid, and her small amount of progress was lost. “I don’t want you to go,” she said to them. “It’s my birthday!”

“Tomorrow’s your birthday.” Amelia’s voice was like music, the words rising and falling in pitch. “Today was your birthday party.” She clicked her tongue to indicate excitement, perhaps.

Fritz high-fived Natalie. “Awesome party, dude.” Seeing the disappointment in Natalie’s face, he hesitated. “So … are we on for chocolate chip pancakes in the morning? Or should we have spinach pancakes for the birthday breakfast?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He and Amelia disappeared down the stairs and out the front door.

“You have my cell if you need anything!” Amelia called out. I heard the heavy front door close behind them.

Natalie’s frustration with her braids escalated after her parents’ departure. “I suck at this!”

I needed a new activity to distract her. “You know what I realized? I haven’t seen your room.”

She sighed loudly, like she wasn’t interested in showing it to me.

“I’d love to see it,” I said.

“Fine.” Natalie led me to the third floor and stopped outside a closed door. “The theme of my room is unicorns. Did you know I collect unicorns?”

“No, I didn’t.” I wondered if the concept of a themed bedroom was prevalent and I’d somehow missed it.

I stepped inside. Numerous objects in the room reflected light, so it was hard to identify any primary light source. Indeed, I saw unicorns everywhere I looked. Little statues of unicorns lined three shelves. Several pictures of unicorns were hung on the walls, with one mural painted directly on the wall, apparently by a child.