Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“No, ma’am, I won’t.”
Luna rolls her eyes. “Don’t ever call me ma’am again. Now, Milo…” She kisses him on the forehead. “Be good. This one doesn’t have a lot of experience, so I’m counting on you to teach him right from wrong and make sure he doesn’t go astray. Don’t get him in trouble because he’s an adult, and he does know some things, I’m sure. Behave. Please.”
“Okay, mom. Have a good day.”
“Thanks, honey. You too.”
That’s that. Luna departs through the door past the living room, and I can hear her footsteps down the stairs to the shop. I study Milo, but he couldn’t care less that I’m there. He takes his bowl to the kitchen table, which is brown with yellow vinyl chairs, straight out of the seventies, and sits down.
I put the milk back in the fridge.
My mind is racing. What does a cool dad who can’t let his kid know he’s his dad do all day? What are some awesome things for four-year-olds? What does Milo like? I really should have researched this yesterday. I should have stayed up all night looking up museums and other hot spots for kids in the city. I’m sure there are a ton.
The immediate thought that comes to mind is the library. Would Milo like that? I loved the library growing up. It’s always been, and still is, one of my favorite spots.
While I’m considering that, standing by the small window overlooking the back alley complete with graffitied trash bins and parked cars, a strange sound erupts in the kitchen.
Fwweeerrrrrrrrrpppppttt.
I freeze and whirl around to find Milo holding his spoon in mid-air, grinning at me.
“Did you just…fart?”
“Uh, you’re supposed to call it rootin’ and tootin’. Or just tootin’. Mom says fart is a rude word.”
It’s possible that a four-year-old just made me blush deeper than I have in years. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
Milo shovels a heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth, but a few marshmallows and other small pieces drop back into the bowl. “Mwaht’s ofay,” he garbles out. At least he swallows before he clears his throat and tries again. “You didn’t know. Mom says I’m supposed to cut you some slack because you’re new. Oh, she also said not to tell you she said that, but if you don’t tell her, I guess she won’t know I did.”
“I won’t tell her.”
“Well, anyway…Did you toot?”
He shakes his head. “No, you did.”
Kid logic at its finest, I see. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”
“Pretty sure?” Milo smothers a giggle. “That means you aren’t sure.” He puts another spoonful of cereal into his mouth and chews. “Mom says that when you get old, it sometimes just happens. That’s what mom says about grandpa, so it could have been you.”
“Old?” I choke. “I’m not…hey. I’m not old.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-four.”
“Jeepers. That’s old.
I close my gaping mouth and lean against the counter. I can’t help but be more amused than insulted. “Tell me something else you know.”
“Hmm.” Milo moves his cereal around in the bowl without eating any. It’s got brown shapes, white shapes, and multi-colored shapes that I think are marshmallows. It looks pretty damn good.
“Mind if I have a bowl?” I ask before he tells me something he knows.
My son grins at me. Now it’s his turn to be surprised and amused. “If you want. I’ve never seen an old person eat it before, though.”
“Old person,” I grumble as I pour myself a bowl. “Old person. Jeez.” I pour milk over the cereal and shove a spoon in. Hmmm, not bad. Not bad at all. I might have to get this for myself the next time I do grocery shopping. I pull up a seat across from Milo at the table, taking my bowl with me. “So?”
“Okay, I know. I went to the doctor a few days ago. It’s just for a checkup because mom says it’s good for me.”
“Yes, I guess it is.”
“But he was a bad man.”
I nearly choke on a marshmallow. “What do you mean?”
“He was bad because he tried to break my knees, but since Mom was there, he didn’t.”
“Ah, that would be a reflex test. The hammer thing they use is padded. It’s a tool for testing how your legs work. There are parts in your knees that are supposed to react to being tapped like that. He would never have hurt you.”
Milo shrugs. “Okay, if you say so. I thought he was going to break them. It’s what bad men do in the movies that Mom watches when I’m supposed to be sleeping.”
“I see. Could it be she watches them because you’re in bed and shouldn’t be seeing that kind of thing?”
Milo nods, not ashamed in the least to be admitting his deepest, darkest secrets.
It’s hard for me to remember what I was like when I was four. I know I was smart because my mom always tells me I was so intelligent and precocious that she didn’t know what to do with me. I haven’t even told my mom that she’s a grandma yet. I haven’t told any of my cousins either, minus Kirian, who already knows since Granny apparently used him like a lackey. Good lord, I have a lot to figure out.