Brielle’s jaw clenches, and I can tell she is frustrated with the attitude.
I carelessly drop the bowl of popcorn onto the counter, ready to correct him. “It’s family week. My home is your home, it’s your mother’s home, it’s our home. Clear? Got it? Great.”
His hand claws the snack. “Fine. Is this all because I told my teacher that you two act strange sometimes?”
Brielle steps closer to the counter. “It’s because we should do more things as a family. We don’t always need to keep everything to your time with Dad or your time with me.”
“I get it. You want to do things together outside of special occasions.”
“Bingo.” Brielle taps her finger into the air.
Our son now has a mouth full of popcorn. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
“You’re eating right now.” Brielle looks on in astonishment.
“I know, but I’ve worked up an appetite. I built muscle the last two weeks.” He proudly flexes his arm.
Brielle and I look at one another and smile. “You’re a growing boy.”
“A little man,” I add.
He chomps on more popcorn. “Exactly.”
“I guess I will get to work on pizza then.” Brielle walks to the fridge, and I continue to lean against the counter, staring at Connor who is oblivious that he has it so lucky; everything we do is for him.
* * *
Apparently,food is the key to Connor’s growing attitude. His mood pepped up after a second slice of pizza. Brielle made everyone their own, which is perfect since we all have different tastes. We’re sitting outside on the patio around the pool relaxing and being together, just the three of us.
For the most part, we’ve always had a reason to be together for dinners. A birthday, a school recital, or a post-game dinner. We never did this just because… and it feels too right.
“The dog is here,” Connor points out.
We all skim our gaze in his line of sight and see April and Spencer’s beagle, Pickles, padding along into our yard. It happens occasionally. He is harmless and old, except when he sees Spencer or a squirrel, then suddenly, he has puppy energy.
“Ah, we will need to take him back. Most of the time, April doesn’t realize he wandered off. I’m pretty certain a raccoon or something will get to him one of these days.”
“Ford,” Brielle scolds me.
I roll my shoulder back before picking up my beer bottle. “What? It’s true. This is Lake Spark.”
“Can I have a dog?” Connor asks before taking a bite of his food.
“Since when do you want a dog?” Brielle grabs the salad bowl.
“I’m a kid, shouldn’t I have a phase of wanting a dog?”
I chuckle at his reply. “You’re a kid now? A few hours ago, you made it clear you’re no longer a kid.”
“Stop with the psychology,” my son retorts.
“A dog is a lot of responsibility,” Brielle notes as she watches Pickles walk to me for a pat on his head.
“True, and soon I will have hockey practice like all of the time,” he explains.
I rub my chin, as I can only imagine Connor in a few years playing high school hockey. There is a prep school nearby with a great team.
“How about you take Pickles back after dinner? That’s the closest you can get to having a dog,” Brielle suggests.
