“I’ll get them later. It’ll be easier with scissors.”
The poor kid a few places ahead in the line glances back. Horrified, he huddles closer to his designated adult.
We eventually reach the front of the line and have our own tickets checked, and then we’re in. It turns out we’re all seated together—no doubt Aubrey booked Mila’s tickets too. But by tacit agreement, we head to one of the bars first. A plan the kids agree on when I offer to buy them all ice cream.
“Chocolate for you, Clo?”
My niece nods with relish.
“Can I get you and Ronny a glass of wine or champagne? And the kids? How many of them are there?”
“Sixteen. And while I’d say more than a couple of those kids would be thrilled at the offer, let’s not get you arrested today. Besides, I think they’re more the cider-in-the-park furtive kinds of drinkers.”
“Got it.” I shoot her a quick salute. “Wine only for those of age. Ice cream and sodas for everyone else.”
“Thanks, but I’m good. Ronny will probably have a Coke. She’s on duty right now.”
“Makes sense.” You can drink around your own kids, but you probably shouldn’t be throwing them back when you’re in charge of someone else’s.
“Can I have a thoda, Uncle Matty?”
“A ...” Soda! “Sure?” I glance Mila’s way. “Five-year-olds are okay with fizzy stuff, right?”
Mila holds up a hand. “I’m unqualified to offer advice.”
“Ah, shit, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Fuck. Again! I glance down at Clo, who sends me a long-suffering look.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell Mommy.This time.”
I suck at this whole kid thing.
“Maybe you should get Uncle Matty a swear jar,” Mila suggests.
“For him to whisper the bad words into?” Her tone sounds full of doubt.
“It’s more about teaching Uncle Matty not to swear, because with a swear jar, every time he says a naughty word, he has to put money into it.”
“Who gets to keep the money?” Clo asks suspiciously.
“If it’s your swear jar, you do.”
“I need a jar!” the kid says, pivoting to face me, and I’m sure I see dollar signs light up in her eyes. “And then you can say all the bad words you need.”
“I’ll end up broke,” I protest with a chuckle.
“That is a distinct possibility.” Mila has been to enough dinners to know this to be true.
“Jar later. Let’s hit the bar for now. While I can still afford to.”
“I wanna stay with Mila. I need to hear more about the jar.”
“We can do that,” she says, taking Clo’s hand.
“Fine, but no scheming,” I say, waggling a finger between the two.
At the bar, I ask a bewildered server if soda is illegal for five-year-olds. Apparently, it’s not, though a nearby group of motheringtypes eyes me with such distaste, I almost ask the server to stick a vodka in it for the five-year-old.
Anyway, I order enough soda and snacks to fuel an army. I also get a few cans of alcohol-free mojitos for Mila and her companions, plus a beer for myself. As I turn from the counter, arms full of contraband, I wonder if Letty might have reservations about me taking Clodagh out again. That is, if I take her home buzzed to fuck on sugar.
