Futures and Frosting

Page 11

“Don’t be jealous because the phone gets more time with me during the week than you do,” I console him with a pat on his hand.

“I’m not jealous. I just used my Palm PDA.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Your Palm PDA is no match for my…Vtech Cordless,” I stammer.

What are we even talking about anymore? Is there a point when innuendos jump the shark?

“I know what you guys are doin’ when you make a phone call,” Gavin pipes up nonchalantly from the backseat.

You know how when you’ve told a lie and someone catches you in it your face gets all hot and you get butterflies in your stomach? It’s ten times worse when it’s your own freaking toddler calling you out and looking at you like, “Are you kidding me with this shit?”

“Heh, heh! What do you mean, buddy?” Carter asks, laughing nervously.

He looks at me and I look at him, and we both look in the backseat at Gavin. Thank God we are stopped at another red light. I don’t think Carter can be trusted to keep the car in our lane at this moment. Frankly, I don’t think I can be trusted not to open up the door and jump out. TUCK AND ROLL!

I’m going to have to tell my son about the birds and the bees in the car on the way to my father’s house. I don’t even get the term, “the birds and the bees”. How does that properly teach a kid about sex? You never see a pigeon railing a dove or a honey bee sticking it to a bumble bee. They really need to call it, “the cows and the horses”. Just the other day we drove by a farm and one cow was mounted up on another cow and Gavin said, “Awww look, Mommy. That cow is giving the other cow a hug!” I could have explained it easily then. I could have used correct terminology like penis and sperm and fertilization. It was a farm for f**k’s sake. That sort of stuff can be seen every two feet between goats and pigs and roosters and chickens. I could have given him plenty of examples. But then I would have to answer the age old question about which came first, the chicken or the egg and that question still boggles MY mind. Now I’m going to have to make up some type of analogy that has to do with phones. “First, you pull the antenna out so it’s nice and long, then you push the right buttons so the other phone is in the mood to make a call…”

I can’t do this. I’m not ready for this. He’s too young to know about long distance phone calls and roaming charges!

“M-o-o-o-o-m! Did you hear me? I said I know what you guys are doin’ when you make phone calls,” Gavin repeats.

Sure, go ahead and repeat it. Obviously you need to make sure we are sufficiently freaked out. CHILDREN ARE THE DEVIL.

Maybe if I just completely ignore the situation, he’ll forget about it. I turned on the radio, frantically searching for a song he knows that he can butcher the lyrics to.

Why is there so much f**king talk radio at five o’clock in the evening?

“Ooooh, this is a good song, Gavin! Do you know this song?” I ask overenthusiastically.

Carter looks at me like I'm insane as Kenny G notes filled the car.

Fucking Kenny G. Couldn’t you record ONE song with some lyrics? Michael Bolton taught you nothing. Epic fail, Kenny. Epic fail.

“You guys always lock your door when you make phone calls,” Gavin says.

Son of a bitch, Kenny G! You put everyone to sleep but my son. The ONE thing you had going for you and now it’s gone to shit.

“You guys kiss in there, don’t you?” Gavin asks.

I stop swaying to beat of Kenny G and shut off the BIC Lighter App on my phone, noticing that Carter is still looking at me funny. It’s like he’s never met me. I'm trying to get Gavin’s mind off of fertilization and bees f**king pigeons!

“YES!” Carter shouts. “That’s exactly what we do. We kiss. That’s all we do. Just kiss. Sometimes Mommy and Daddy need to lock the door so we can kiss. And…just kiss. What else would we do in there besides kiss? Ha ha! Mommy and Daddy sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-”

I reach over and squeeze his arm to get him to stop talking as we pull into my dad’s driveway. Gavin unbuckles his seatbelt and scrambles out of the car to race to my dad, his attention already diverted. My dad scoops him up into his arms and meets us at the car as Carter gets Gavin’s overnight bag out of the backseat, and I stand by my open door, breathing a sigh of relief that Sex Ed with our four-year-old is finally over.

“Hey, Papa! Mommy and Daddy lock their door so they can kiss!” Gavin tells him excitedly.

My dad looks a little grossed out and quickly changes the subject.

“I got that movie 'Gnomeo and Juliet' for us to watch tonight,” he tells Gavin.

Sadly, Gavin isn’t going to be deterred even for garden gnomes that come to life and ass rape a small community while they sleep. I’m sure that’s not what really happens in a children’s movie, but in my mind it is. Garden gnomes are creepy. I firmly believe they come to life after you go to bed at night and violate you.

“Mommy and Daddy make a lot of noise when they kiss. Mommy talks to God a lot. I talk to God sometimes too. I asked him for a puppy and a new monster truck but I was nice and didn’t yell at him like Mommy does. He still hasn’t gotten me the puppy though.”

And on that note, we kiss Gavin good-bye, jump into the car, and take off. My dad can deal with the birds and the bees and cows and the chickens and the kissing horses while visions of his daughter screaming for Jesus dance in his head.

Tip: You can use left and right keyboard keys to browse between pages.