Page 27 of Falling for Roxanne

“Buddy, she has good color stuff. But if you want to give them some new coloring books and markers for all of you to use, we can get some tonight. You’re gonna have to pick one that’s what Josie likes, too. Not just robots for everyone.”

“Robots are the coolest! They can stomp stuff and go zoom, so fast cause they have a motor, and who wants to even color some stupid ponies when you can have robots?”

“Well, I can’t argue with the logic there, but ponies are also the coolest if that’s what you like. Stupid isn’t a kind word. What’s a better word we could use?” I said as I drove.

“Uh, sorry, I just—they’re cute, Daddy!” he said, disgusted. I chuckled.

“Okay, so say they’re cute. They’re not ‘stupid’ which is a really unkind word that means someone can’t learn. And we know everyone can learn,” I said carefully. He sighed.

“Okay,” he said, accepting it easily and I smiled at him.

“How about going to get some pizza and watching a movie at home? After we pick up some coloring stuff?”

“That would be cool! Hey, how ‘bout pizza, movie and no bath? That would be the coolest ever-ever!”

“Nice try,” I said, “you’re still taking a bath. Being clean is the coolest. You don’t want to be the smelly kid, do you?” I teased.

“I didn’t even run outside very much plus I just smell like a man!”

I laughed. “Who told you that?”

“Aunt J. She said Tyler and I were smelly like a big man, and we needed a bath. I told her that’s okay, my daddy gives me a bath a lot.”

It was all I could do not to laugh. “Well, she’s not wrong kiddo. You do need a bath. Or if you’d rather, we could go through the car wash and I’ll just open the windows.”

“No!” he squealed, giggling. “I don’t wanna get wax on me!”

“If you don’t want to be waxed till you’re shiny, you gotta take baths, my man,” I said. “Daddy showers every day. I don’t go to the office or the college smelling yucky.”

“You could. You do brain work you told me, and your brain still works if you smell farts.”

I wanted to shut my eyes and shake my head at this kid, but I was driving and couldn’t take my eyes off the road.

“What did we say about farts?” I asked.

“Say ‘scuse me and don’t talk about farts because people think you’re nasty,” he said obediently. I barely kept from laughing at that one.

“That’s not exactly how I said it, but yes. We want to have good manners and treat people nicely and talking about your farts or anyone else’s isn’t very good manners. And if you smell one, it doesn’t stop your brain from working, but it’s distracting. So if I went to work smelling bad, people might have a hard time paying attention to their work or what I was saying because they’d be thinking, what is that bad smell?”

I explained it as seriously and maturely as I could when in my heart, I wanted to laugh about having to give the fart lecture for the fourth time to my kid. He was such a character. I wanted to squeeze him and give him a million kisses and hugs for being so stinking cute. But I had to be responsible and try to raise a human who didn’t think that fart jokes were the height of sophisticated conversation. Again, I had that pang of wishing I had someone to share this with, how bright and brave and silly he was.

We stopped and got some coloring books—including one with cute ponies and bunnies in it that he promised not to make fun of—and a twelve-pack of emergency Diet Coke for Aunt J. After we grabbed a pizza, we headed home and had a picnic in the living room.

“You never let me eat in here,” he observed.

“Just keep it over the plate, okay?” I said. “We’re having a pizza picnic. The rules are different. Still taking a bath, though, so don’t try,” I said lightly.

“Cool. Can we watch Wall-E?” he asked.

“How about Encanto? You liked Bruno, remember?” I said hopefully.

“But there’s no robots in that one.”

“Big Hero 6?” I offered.

“It’s sad! His brother dies and Baymax—”

“Sorry, I forgot,” I said. “Wall-E it is.”

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