Page 42 of The Parent Playbook
And that’s why it’s so hard for me to be mad at him.
“Andy, that’s really thoughtful, but you can’t just start a protest in school. There are rules.”
“I know, but I wanted her to feel welcome, not like she’s a dead weight who tags along.” His voice is assured, and I’m getting a peek at the man he’s going to become.
I exhale, the fight draining out of me. “You have a big heart, kiddo. But let’s try to find less disruptive ways to show it. We can talk before the next grand gesture, okay?” He nods, reliefwashing over his face. “Can we help Lily find a club at school? Something less mutiny-like?”
“You mean like scrapbooking club?” He makes a face and a quiet gagging sound.
“Hey, some people really love those decorative scissors. Listen, thanks for looking out for her. But try to keep the riots to a minimum.”
He grins, a spark of childhood mischief still in his eyes. “No promises, Mom.”
As he retreats to his room, I lean against the wall. Navigating parenting and potential romance is proving trickier than I thought.
Back in my makeshift office—the corner of the barn converted into a cluttered sanctuary of paperwork—I’m buried under a mountain of receipts and budget forecasts that I have to prepare for the Charities Program. The numbers blur together, but I’m not complaining about having an escape from the complexities of preteen emotions and hockey coach dramas. Cold, hard numbers.
If only I could make them add up.
The phone rings, slicing through the tedium of my financial fugue. It’s Troy, his voice bubbling over with excitement before I get the handset to my ear.
“Angel! You’re not going to believe this,” he practically shouts, making me pull the phone away from my ear a bit.
“What? What’s going on?” I hope I don’t regret asking.
“We got a call from the foundation. Your interview, it did more than make a good impression. It knocked it out of the park!” I can hear he’s breathless with enthusiasm, even through the static of our spotty rural connection. “A hefty donation has come in. I don’t have all the details yet, some lady humanitarian from what I gather, but I do have a figure.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, bracing myself. “You’re making me nervous, Troy. How much are we talking?”
He pauses for dramatic effect, a habit I’ve told him to kickcountless times. “Enough to get you some serious help with all that paperwork. Angel, you can finally hire someone to tackle the accounting.”
I slump back in my chair, the weight of a thousand spreadsheets lifting off my shoulders. “That’s … that’s incredible,” my voice cracks. The idea of handing off even a fraction of this paperwork is more rejuvenating than any spa day could ever be.
“Right? You did it, Angel. You and those kids. And Zach told me a certain Scotty was there on the sidelines …”
I don’t remember how the conversation ended, because I’m already ahead of myself, dreaming of things getting easier. With a bit of professional help, I might find time to tackle something other than budgets and barn repairs. I could start planning for that expansion at last …
No, I shake off the thought before it can fully form.
First things first, find an accountant who doesn’t mind the occasional goat wandering into their office.
Andy pokes his head around the corner of the barn, his eyes cautious. “Mom, can I help with anything?” His voice is hopeful, if a bit tentative after our earlier disagreement.
I pause, pencil in hand, considering his offer. Any anger I felt is gone now, and I love how he wants to make amends. “Yeah, you can help me with the petting zoo. We’ve got a mountain of cleanup to tackle.”
As we shovel and sweep, Andy’s quiet for a long while. The only sounds are the soft grunts of the animals and the scrape of our tools against the ground. Then, out of the blue, he says, “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“For the protest?”
“For making you argue with Scotty.”
I stop, leaning on my rake and wipe a stray hair from my forehead with the back of my glove.
“We weren’t really arguing, Andy. We were seeing things differently, that’s all.”
“You should make up with him.”
“You think so, huh? You think he’s a cool guy?”
