“Of course. But you will give me more than just a day to get potential present won’t you?” Joyce commented as she went to get the car keys. “So shall we or am I getting ahead of myself again?”
“Yeah, Mom - I promise you’ll have AT LEASTtwo.” she quipped, grinning. Once her mom started to gather her things, Dawn ran off, going to grab her jacket and a bit of allowance from her room. “Nah, you’re not! You can go out to the car now if you want; I’ll be there in a sec.”
“Anytime pumpkinbelly.” She smiled softly. She was just happy that something like this project could mean so much to both of them. “So… time to turn the tables. What do you want for Christmas? Or are you going to start telling me that I need to help you pick out yarn right now so you don’t forget? You won’t get away from me so easily. I’ll figure out what to get you.”
“I don’t know what I want. Why don’t we go get the yarn and I’ll think about it?”
It wasn’t that she didn’t want a present, of course she did. Just that she wanted this moment to be about her mom, since there weren’t many times like that in their house.
“I’m aware she isn’t truly my daughter but that makes no difference to me. I still love Dawn as if I’ve been calling her my pumpkin belly her entire supposed life. I wish she would understand how I’ll always have room for her in my heart, how I’ll still love her as one of my own. For those who don’t see any different then all the better. For those who use the difference against her, then all the worse for them. It doesn’t matter how she’s mine but she’s mine. My daughter. My youngest. My Dawn. If anyone harms her they’ll have to go through a mother’s fury and then some. For no one touches a hair on my girl’s head if they intend to harm. She’s mine. She is a Summers. I will love her and protect her like a mother should. Like the mother I am to her.
“So long as it would keep me warm I’m sure I’ll love it. If you want I can help you pick out knitting or crocheting books, get you set up and you can try with a bit of yarn and then do the scarf so I won’t have a ruined surprise.”
Joyce was actually touched that her daughter was considering making her a scarf. The one she had been wearing was starting to get in its years. Fraying and not keeping the cold out as much. If this was something Dawn really wanted to do and not one of the forgotten half projects, it might just be one of the best Christmas presents that would be hard to top in later years.
“That’d be great!"
Her face lit up at her mom’s suggestion. Sure, that wouldn’t be quite as cool as making it herself from scratch, but this way Dawn would at least know what she was doing– and probably make something that would look a h e l l of a lot better, too.
Joyce chuckled at that idea. “And I appreciated every moment of the macaroni gooey art project.” Her gaze went to the coat rack for a moment. “I could use a new scarf….”
“I could try to make one! I can’t promise it’ll be very good, though– since I’m not really sure how to make it…"
Dawn had never bothered with knitting or anything else of the sort before, so this could turn out to be quite the challenge. Hopefully, Buffy or one of her friends would know at least a little more about it than she did– because if that was what her mom wanted, then Dawn would be damned if she didn’t at least try to make it for her.
“Are you sure? Because I think that is a very good idea… no? Well… you could always make something for me like you used to.” She really didn’t know what she wanted for Christmas, she was focusing on the girls and their presents more.
"As long as you don’t ask for macaroni art like the kind I made when I was five, we’ve got a deal.“
Now, if only she could figure out just what to make for her mom…
Joyce kept at brushing Dawn’s hair, although she tried to be gentler in taking out the knots. “This is what happens sometimes when you wake up. Sorry Dawn but it happens.” She kept going as gently as she could until the brush ran smooth. “There….. that’s half a head done…”
"Does ithappen to you a lot, Mom? Y'know, since your hair’s super curly?“
She reached up an ran a hand through the brushed side of her hair, smiling as she felt it return to its usual silkiness. It was at times like these when Dawn was glad that she hadn’t inherited her mom’s wild curls– - if this seemed bad, then she couldn’t even imagine how much of a p a i n hair like her mother’s would be to maintain.
