“And I’m on the shots as well.” He flipped our hands over so mine lay under his. “We’ll see how things roll when it comes to that room. But for the rest, are we on?”
“Yep, we are totally on as long as I can assure someone will be around to keep an eye on Dahn.”
His grin said it all. Surely with a house as packed as the ranch house was,someonewould be around to make sure the boy didn’t leap off the roof, crash an ATV into a barn, or try to fly a kite into electric wires by accident. Being the parent of a ten-year-old boy filled with energy meant you prayed for the best while preparing for the worst.
***
I made it to the rec center just a wee bit late.
Thankfully, the sheriff wasn’t clocking me for my liberal use of the gas pedal. I’d not broken any speed limits, but I was darn close. Ollie cruised past me as I made a right into the long parking area. I gave him a wave but wasn’t sure he saw it.
Pulling into the parking lot, I hurried to grab the grocery bag containing my briefs and jammed it behind my seat, covering it with a small tote bag filled with car interior wipes, upholstery cleaner, and a bottle of hand sanitizer. Once you have a toddler puke yogurt all over your car, you learn to carry cleaning supplies. Also, on that note, once you live through a pandemic, you always have a bottle of hand sanitizer in your car. Forever. One day I was going to throw it out as it had to be expired.
Parking at the end of a row of cars, I got out of the SUV, feeling about as good as a man could feel. Not only had Ollie and I shared a hot and intimate moment but we had a date. A real date. Tomorrow night. Silly as it was, I was as excited as a teen going to their first school dance. The sun had slipped behind some thickening clouds, which helped to drop the temperature a tiny bit. The grassy lawn was packed with kids. Older ones leaning against the sign that rested in a red brick elevated bed with wilted marigolds, younger ones running about pell-mell, screaming, and even younger ones toddling about with an adult close at hand to keep the preschoolers and little ones from being stampeded by the wild ones my son’s age.
Speaking of my son, I scanned the packs of kids and located Dahn with the new group of boys he’d fallen in with, roughhousing with a young, pudgy boy in a purple shirt. Iwatched for a moment and frowned. The play seemed to be getting a bit out of hand. Striding over to the circle, I called out for my son. Dahn’s head swiveled around like an owl’s, his dark eyes flaring when he saw me. The other four boys instantly stopped shoving the sweaty lad in the purple tee.
“You boys are getting a little rough,” I barked as I came to stand beside a wide-eyed Dahn.
“It’s push Pudgy Phil day,” a lanky kid with a scratch on his cheek replied. That rankled me.
“No, it’s stop being bullies or I’ll tell your parents day. Dahn, get in the truck. We have to get back to the ranch. Phil,” I looked down at the panting young man, “is your ride here?”
“No, sir,” Phil breathlessly replied. “But my big brother will be here soon. Thanks!”
He darted off to go wait by the curb, glancing back once he arrived on the sidewalk.
“Dahn, let’s go.” I placed my hand on my son’s shoulder and steered him from his friends to our car. He whipped his new school backpack onto the seat. Once he was buckled, I looked over to see Phil climbing into an old Ford station wagon that had been redone. Once I knew Phil was with his brother, I slid into my car, turned, and looked right at my child. “I’m not sure I like what I saw taking place with Phil. Would you care to tell me what that was all about?”
Dahn stared down at his dirty knees. “We were just playing.”
“Playing? Push Pudgy Phil does not sound like playing to me. That sounds like bullying. Do you think you’d like it if a band of boys started shoving you into a pond on Dunk Dopey Dahn day?”
He shot me a look of pure venom. I’d never gotten such a spiteful glare from the boy before. Ugh, if this was the onset of puberty, I was in for a long, bumpy ride.
“Philispudgy,” he argued.
“And you’re Asian. Would you like it if someone made fun of you for that?”
“I can’t change being Asian. Phil can stop eating so many cookies.”
I sat there stunned. Where the hell was all of this coming from? I had to regroup. “Well, be that as it may, you know we do not make fun of people. It’s hurtful and cruel. On Monday, I want you to apologize to Phil.”
“I never pushed him!”
“I’m glad, but you stood by and let it happen instead of stepping up to stop it. That’s the end of this discussion, Dahn.”
He mumbled something under his breath. I thought of making him repeat it, but that would only add fuel to the fire, so I let it go. I let things cool for a few moments. Dahn was pouting, arms folded, the very epitome of a preteen. Yikes. Maybe I needed to start shifting my thinking about him from a child to a young man on the cusp of some very big changes.
“So, how was twirling class? I bet you’re excited for school to start so you can try out for the marching band majorettes,” I said as we cruised to the ranch, small drops of rain splattering on the windshield.
“I’m not doing twirling anymore. That’s for girls,” he boldly announced.
My mouth fell open. I snapped it shut. What? “I’m confused, Dahn. You loved twirling just a week ago? And for what it’s worth, it’s not just for girls. Anyone can be a baton twirler.” His jaw remained locked. Tightly. “Did you have a bad class? Everyone drops their baton now and again, even Bella, and she’s quite good.”
He jerked his head to the side to stare at the cornfields, the leaves on the plants all drooping downward, the plants in need of some rain. Rain that they were going to get if the weather forecasts that Baker watched so closely were reliable.
“Right, well, you think on it over the weekend. I won’t make you take a class you’ve genuinely lost interest in, but I will call you out for saying that something is girly. We don’t engage in that sort of stereotypical foolishness. Girls can and do like sports. Boys can and should play house and parent baby dolls. Saying something is ‘girly’ makes it sound like being a girl is bad, which it is not.”
