Page 2 of The Nanny is Off Limits

“There are several parents in the parent-teacher association who would beg to differ,” Mrs. Dean says with a fake smile and a look that makes me believe I won’t be leaving this office without writing a check.

“We just want to help,” Dr. Anderson adds and I can already picture Sawyer’s resistance if they try to make him meet with her once a week. I had all three of my children in therapy throughout the past year and only Isla had a positive experience because she’s six and a chatterbox. She was thrilled to have someone else to talk to about the latest drama with her imaginary friends and the latest episode ofBluey. “We understand that this past year has been difficult for your family and we are so sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat thinking about my children losing their mother unexpectedly. While we had been divorced for three years at the time of her death, it has affected me in a way I never anticipated. I’m not quite a widower but the grief washes over me like I am one at times. It’s a weird feeling that the person responsible for half of my children no longer walks the Earth. I have no one to run things by and I suddenly feel like I’m failing at every turn. While we hadn’t worked as a couple, she was a great mom and we co-parented well.

“Yes,” Mrs. Dean says, and I hear the qualifier in that one word, “but we can’t keep making excuses when it’s affecting the other students here. Your son lit a stack of papers on fire and put them in a trashcan. We can’t just let that go without consequences even though we understand he is going through a difficult time.”

“I get that and I think thesuspensionis more than fair.” I nod, doing my best to divert the conversation away from the dreaded “e” word.

“It’s not just my decision if he’s expelled. My phone has been ringing off the hook for the past hour with angry parents,” Mrs. Dean insists.

“How much?” I grunt, giving her a look.

She shuts her eyes like she’s planning to chastise me and when she opens them, I can see the fire in them.“This isn’t about money, Mr. Kincaid. Your son is disruptive and it does not appear he has any motivation to change that.” I sigh in defeat but Mrs. Dean leans forward and laces her fingers together. “However,” she starts and I give her a look as if to say, ‘uh-huh, that’s what I thought, get to it.’“We would be delighted to move up the timeline on the expansion of our second library.”

“As well as meeting with me once a week,” Dr. Anderson adds with a weak smile. “We want to get Sawyer on the right track, and I think having someone to talk to will help.”

I snort. “He’s had someone to talk to. Multiple someones. He doesn’t open up to anyone but his older sister or me when he feels forced.” My son is my mini-me and up until last year, he didn’t want to be anywhere but in my shadow. Yet somehow living with me full time has put a strain on our relationship. Maybe because I wasn’t the disciplinarian before. I was the fun parent that never nagged him or made sure he did his homework and now I have to find the balance. I’m struggling with that, especially with these destructive behaviors he’s picked up.

“This isn’t an option. If he doesn’t want to risk expulsion, once a week after school, he’ll need to meet with Dr. Anderson.”

“Do you want to get kicked out of school? Is that what this is all about? Do you hate Rosewood?” I look at my son through the rearview mirror on our drive home as he stares out his window with a bored expression on his face.

“No.” The one-word answer gets under my skin and I want to yell, but that hasn’t been working, so clearly I need to try another approach.

“Then why do you keep acting out? They want to expel you, SJ,” I say using my nickname for him. He doesn’t say anything, and I go for another angle, hoping he’ll tell me more about why he’s been acting like this. “Did someone make you do this? Are you being bullied? What?”

“Good one.” He snorts and I feel a pang of unease that my son is probably the ringleader when it comes to mischief.

“Then what is it?” He shrugs, and I grip the steering wheel tighter as I take a deep breath. “You know I hate that. Try again.”

“It’s nothing. I thought it would be cool. I wasn’t expecting the smoke alarms to go off. I thought I had it under control.”

“You’re smarter than that. This was a cry for attention and now you have it. Great work,” I say giving him a thumbs up.

“I’m hungry,” he says, ignoring the topic of conversation completely.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes? I got hauled into the office right before lunch. Can we get Chipotle?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

He looks at me through the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry,maywe get Chipotle?”

“You do realize how much trouble you’re in, right?”

“So, that means you’re not going to feed me?” He chuckles. “Man, Dr. Anderson is going to have a field day with that.”

“Sawyer Jack,” I warn him. I still have a brief to finish and while I do cook sometimes, tonight is not going to be one of them. “Fine, but this is not me rewarding your behavior. I want your PS5, your iPad, and your laptop. When we get home, you need to rake the leaves in both the front and backyard, take a shower, do your homework, and that’s it. No television either.”

He mumbles something under his breath and begins to chew on one of the strings of his hoodie. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Read a book.”

“Oh great, like I don’t do that enough,” he replies dryly and it’s times like this I hate having a ten-year-old with an IQ that very well may be higher than his older sister’s. I sometimes struggle with wanting to chuckle at his wit. “Am I allowed to go to soccer tomorrow?”

I want to tell him no because he shouldn’t be allowed to do anything he enjoys while he’s suspended from school but I don’t want to deny him the only healthy outlet I feel he appreciates. While he may be the youngest on the team, objectively he is probably the best and his mom always stressed the importance of nurturing our kids’ hobbies. “We’ll see.”

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