Page 24 of The Doctor's Surprise Family

“Okay, Moose,” said Oli. “The second part of my question is, can you push me on the swings?”

Claire nodded okay, and I told him I’d love to. Oli raced ahead of us to the swing set, only slowing a little when Claire called out “Careful.”

“He’s a little daredevil,” she said. “Totally fearless. He’ll try and get you to push him over the top. Y’know, like a loop-de-loop, like in the cartoons.”

“And I’m guessing Ishouldn’tdo that?”

“Definitely not.”

Oli was in the swing by the time we caught up, but Claire checked his jacket and the strings of his hoodie, to make sure they weren’t caught on the chains. She reminded him to hold tight, and my chest felt funny. My throat closed up, and my eyes stung. It hit me, for Claire, this was routine. She’d settled him a hundred times on that same swing, checked on his jacket, told him hold tight. She’d cared for him every day of his life. He grinned up at her with sweet, complete trust, and kicked his legs out to start the swing.

“Moose! Come and push! Make me go high!”

I gave him a cautious push, and he yelled “higher!”

Claire dug in her bag and pulled out some hand cream, and I saw she had fruit snacks and trail mix in there, and a tiny first aid kit, and a juice box. That choked me up worse, but I wasn’t sad. What I felt was more… grateful and happy and warm, knowing my son had the kind of mom I wished I’d had. I barely remembered my real mom, and the ones after that — well, they’d been okay, mostly, but not like Claire was.

“Higher!” called Oli. “Go underdog!”

Claire shook her head. “No underdogs.”

I gave Oli another push. “What’s an underdog?”

“It’s when you run and push him, then duck underneath. And get kicked in the head, likely as not.Nounderdogs.”

“No, ma’am. Sorry, sport.”

Oli wentaww, but he didn’t sulk. He pumped his legs to swing himself higher, and I helped him along with the odd push. After the swings, we went on the slide, and then he climbed up in the play airplane. He sat in the cockpit and made fighter plane sounds, and Claire ran with her arms out till he shot her down. He shot me down too, and I yelledboom. That got him laughing, and Claire laughed as well, and Oli slid down to us and helped us stand up. He brushed grass off of Claire’s pants.

“Can we get ice cream?”

Claire frowned for a moment, but she nodded yes. “Moose? You want ice cream?”

“All right. My treat?”

Claire’s lips went tight, and I wanted to kick myself. But then she smiled. “Okay, your treat.”

We wound up at a quaint little ice cream shop, the kind with a fifties vibe and homemade ice cream. Claire got what I knew she would, two scoops of chocolate. I got a root beer float, and Oli asked for the same. Claire raised a brow at him.

“A float? Are you sure?”

“I want what he’s having.” He pointed at me.

“I can get something else,” I said, not wanting to cause trouble. Claire waved me off.

“No, it’s good if he tries things. It’s how he learns. If he doesn’t like it, he’ll have some of mine.”

I still held my breath for Oli’s first sip. He wiggled the straw around trying to get both the flavors and ended up dripping all over the table. Then he leaned in and took a long slurp, and first his nose wrinkled, then his eyes went wide, then he laughed loudly.

“It tickles my nose!”

“Yeah, hon. It’s fizzy.” Claire wiped up the spill. “So, what’s the verdict? Floats, good or bad?”

“Realgood,” said Oli. “I mean, real-lygood.”

I nearly choked on my float. “His grammar’s better than mine.”

“That’s Mom’s influence.” Claire tried her ice cream. Her expression went soft with chocolate-induced bliss, and before I could stop myself, I’d asked a dumb question.

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