Shit! Can I retract that statement?! That sounds entirely too much like saying I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Which I do. But he can’t know that. He’ll freak out like a guy. Which he is. When he reads this, his mind is immediately going to go to marriage and he’ll probably start screaming. CHANGE THE SUBJECT, CLAIRE!
“Also, I like to watch a lot of p**n .”
NO, NO, NO! ABORT MISSION! What the f**k am I supposed to be talking about? Oh, right. Advice.
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth or he’ll bite the hand that feeds you.”
Oh sweet Jesus I just became my mother.
Lisa doesn’t show any signs of thinking she's talking to a lunatic. She just keeps on typing. It's starting to freak me out.
Is she seriously typing every single thing I say? I suddenly have the urge to scream the words “ANAL WARTS” just to see if she keeps right on clicking away without batting an eye.
I want to ask her if she heard me say I was addicted to p**n . Maybe the noise of kids playing around us or Gavin’s loud huffing and sighing block out what I said. Obviously, I can’t bring it up and ask if she heard me because if she hasn't, she’ll want me to repeat it. And knowing me, I will repeat it to be polite and that will just f**k up this entire freak out I'm currently having.
I am hereby restricting the word “porn” from my vocabulary. It’s getting me into too much trouble.
Lisa stops typing and gives me the universal one-finger, hold on a minute sign as she answers her ringing cell phone.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter.
“You said a bad word,” Gavin informs me.
“I’m allowed. I’m an adult.”
“I wanna be a dolt!” he says excitedly.
A few minutes later, Lisa ends her call and turns her attention to Gavin.
“How about I ask you some questions now? Would that be okay?”
“Sure,” he says with a shrug.
“Do you have a nickname? Can I call you Gav?” Lisa asks.
“Can I punch you in the face?” he asks.
“Gavin!” I scold.
“What’s your favorite color?” Lisa asks, both of them ignoring me.
“I like green. Green is green. I fart green.”
Oh wonderful. This is turning out to be a stellar interview.
“What’s your favorite food?”
“Skabetti and meat balls. Balls are delicious!” Gavin exclaims.
Lisa and I both share a snicker over that one.
“If Phineas and Ferb and Spongebob got into a fight, who would win?” Lisa questions.
Gavin thinks about this for a minute before answering.
“Spongebob ‘cuz he’s a big tough man. Phineas and Ferb are dumber than his wee-wee.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. This interview has officially gone in the shitter.
“What is your favorite holiday?”
“Fart.”
“Gavin,” I warn.
“What’s your favorite animal?”
“Sheep, ‘cuz they’re stupid,” Gavin answers with a laugh.
“What’s your favorite smell?”
Oh that’s a super question to ask a four-year-old who just said his favorite holiday is passing gas.
“Smelly cat. And feet,” Gavin says with a giggle.
“What’s your favorite song?” Lisa continues.
Please don’t say “99 Problems But the Bitch Ain’t One” or I will smother Carter in his sleep for downloading that to his iPod.
“SMELLY CAT, SMELLY CAT, WHAT ARE THEY FEEDING YOU!” Gavin sings as loud as he can.
“How do you even know that song?” I ask him.
Gavin replies with a shrug.
“You like to say big people words a lot. How come?” Lisa asks.
“'Cuz I like it. 'Cuz I’m a man.”
“I’ve heard you like to talk about your wiener a lot. Why do you do that?”
‘Cuz it’s stupid. I crapped my pants.”
Gavin laughs out loud at himself.
“Excuse me? You know you aren’t supposed to say that word,” I scold.
“I can’t say the s-h-p word either. What the heck am I ‘sposed to say?” Gavin asks with a roll of his eyes.
This is what I have to deal with. Am I supposed to correct him when he spells “shit” wrong? Why the f**k hasn’t anyone printed a parenting handbook yet?
“What’s your favorite thing to do?”
“Fart in everyone’s face,” Gavin says in between giggles. “FART!”
“You sure like to say ‘fart’ a lot,” Lisa says with a laugh.
“’Cuz I like saying it forever, punk!”
I put my elbow on the table and my head in my hand. There is no point in even trying to put a stop to this train wreck.
“What do you like better, cookies or girls?” Lisa questions.
“My mommy makes yummy cookies. Girls are stupid. Except for Mommy ‘cuz she has boobs,” Gavin replies earnestly.
“Gee, thanks, sweetie,” I mumble as I lift my head and glance at Lisa to see if she looks as horrified as I feel.
“When you grow up, who do you want to marry?”
Obviously, the fact that any chance at a Pulitzer for this interview is long gone doesn’t matter one iota to this woman.
Gavin gets up on his knees on the bench seat and places a loud, wet kiss to my cheek.
“I want to marry Mommy. We’ll kiss and we’ll marry and I’ll take her on dates and we’ll be best friends forever and make lots of phone calls with each other.”