Trope has so many negative connotations, so how about writing trends?
Found Family
Instances of found family in your story?
Essence Walker of "A Dozen Morning Glories" becomes the primary caregiver of a little girl named Ayla, and it changes her life drastically. Not because she has never cared for anyone before, (Essence is also her mother's caregiver) but because Ayla doesn't see her the same way most people do.
“Who’s that on your backpack?”
She smiles slightly shyly and hugs the bag tighter still.
“Prince Julian and Emily.”
She clearly loves this show.
I think these are the same characters from the show she was watching the other day. I watch the way her eyes brighten as I pick up her car seat from the corner behind the door, and she walks beside me down to the car.
“Prince Julian is a prince who came from another realm. But now in a strange world, he can’t get on by himself,” she says theatrically, and I get the feeling she’s quoting the theme song.
I just realized I have no idea whether the car seat is supposed to be fastened in some way, and if so, how?
“He fell through a portal in his mirror and appeared in a little fish pond on Emily’s family farm. And it was so funny because he was all shivery and wet, and when she saw him for the first time, she thought he was a water monster.”
I think it’s fine. There’d be a harness on it of some kind if I was supposed to secure it, right?
I’ll just drive slowly.
“But when the prince got cleaned up, and put on a pair of Emily’s dad’s clothes, he was so handsome. And he got a job working on their family’s farm, and he goes to Emily’s school. But he doesn’t know anything about animals, so he has trouble working on the farm. But she teaches him and learns how to take care of all of the animals. And he’s so handsome and nice.”
She’s lighter than I expected, and I have no trouble picking her up and putting her in her car seat. She keeps talking the whole time, smoothing her frilly tutu the instant I set her down like a little lady.
“It has sparkles on it,” she tells me, as if I couldn’t see that. “See?”
She points out one of a thousand little pieces of glitter for me to look at, and I resist a sigh but lean forward to admire her tutu.
“It’s pretty.”
“My daddy bought it for me as part of a costume for Emily’s dress. Mom says it’s not supposed to be worn unless I’m playing dress up but Daddy says it’s okay. Do you like playing dress up?”
I almost laugh at that, but just shake my head as I buckle her in, “Not really. Grown-ups don’t usually play dress up.”
Not for fun anyway.
“When you were little like me did you play dress up?”
I didn’t really do that either, but I avert the question, smiling in a way I hope is sweet, “How little are you?”
“Five years little,” she laughs, holding up one of her chubby hands, “Everybody says ‘years old,’ but I’m not old, I’m just a little kid. I’m younger than everybody in my grade, but my mom said I’m smart enough to go to first grade and argued with the teachers until they let me in.”
