Page 32 of Tuesday

“Thank you, baby. It’s because of you I have a family of my own.” I run my thumb down her soft cheek.

“No, we have a family because ofyou,Rhodie. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of the things I’ve done without you at my side. You make me feel safe and seen and I can be me. Just me. And that means that I can then use all my brainpower to move heaven and earth to give you everything you deserve. Like the perfect gator son and the perfect daughter.” She grins up at me and I know that’s as flowery as her words will ever be. And they’re perfect because they belong to her. “So, are we gonna fuck now?”

Chapter 11

Chewy

“The end.” I smile down at the top of Laney’s curly head as I close up Yertle the Turtle.

“Argh, so good. Thank fuuu-udgeballs you gave up reading that Lord of the Rings crap. Dr. Seuss is way better,” Rider says, snuggled into the beanbag next to me and Laney.

“You’re a fully grown man.”

“Yeah, a fully grown man who knows how badass Dr. Seuss is. Those rhymes are tight.”

I don’t answer him. He kinda has a point. As much as I would love Laney to broaden her vocabulary by listening to Lord of the Rings it seems that perhaps it’s a little advanced for her at this age. Besides, she seems to really like the Dr. Seuss onesandthey have social commentary in them so she’s still learning. She crawls off my lap and heads toward the blocks, which seem to be her favourite thing to do outside of reading with me. That makes me feel good. Never did I really think I’d enjoy this parenting stuff this much. I guess in my mind all I thought was there was a kid that needed Rhodie and me, and Rhodie would do all the parenting. Instead I have a little girl who I can help shape to be a good person. I mean, it’s pretty much all we can do. Take whatever skills we’ve learned in our lifetimes and use them to make good humans, because there sure are a lot of trash people out there.

Laney’s curly head turns toward the door as the sound of children drift down the hall.

“What the heck Laney-girl?” I mutter as I move to the doorway, leaning my head out to hear better.

“Alright children, remember your manners,” Jazz’s voice drifts out of the common room and a smile tugs on my lips.

I totally forgot today was the day Jazz and her art class would be visiting to draw Pops, Mad Dog and, well, the common room.

“Shi-zz it’s the pose off!” Rider jumps up from the beanbag and legs it out of the room.

“Quick, come on Laney, let’s go watch.” I hold my hand out to her and she takes it immediately.

Smiling down at her, I’m still amazed that this is my kid. It’s not been all plain sailing, however. After that first meltdown where we both spiralled, she’s had a few more moments like that. Instead of it freaking me out like the first time, we’ve managed to find a way that works for both of us. Meaning, we both end up in the dark cosiness of the closet.

“Go co‘room?” Laney asks, looking up at me.

She’s started saying a few things here and there. Rhodie is really good at narrating what he’s doing, as that’s what the literature says we should do to encourage speech, but I still struggle. If I’m doing something then I’m busy in my head concentrating on that one thing. So I do forget to tell her what I’ve got going on, and to be honest, half the time I’m not exactly sure what I’ve got going on because my brain works so fast. That’s usually when I get overwhelmed, because I worry I’ll get locked in to something and neglect Laney.

“Co’room?” Laney says again, tugging on my hand.

Her hand is a little moist, so it snaps me out of my thoughts, but in a good way. “Yup, Laney-May. We’re going to the common room,”

“Yay!” She throws her free hand up in the air and her feet try to run all while holding my hand. She isn’t very fast, but she can’t really help that I guess. Her legs are pretty short.

We stop in the mouth of the hall and peek in. I don’t really want to be in here if there are too many children and too many noises. Usually I’d draw the line at all the smells too, as children usually smell, but it’s a given that the art class will stink. Children always smell like outside and wet pennies. So far I can only see around a dozen kids, all in various states. Rodney is smack back in the middle looking dishevelled, his red hair sticking up all over the place. I don’t like him.

Laney makes a noise and moves closer to me, leaning her weight against my leg. Huh, maybe she doesn’t like kids? No, that can’t be right. She chases after Cove and Jovie and she likes to sit and play with blocks next to Bee, Jr, Rosie and Juno. Maybe she just doesn’t like stranger-kids? I really hope that’s the case because I don’t want to have to make friends with other kids’ moms. They’re probably all lame. I have my Girl Gang mom group and that’s all I need.

Laney lets go of my hand and wraps both her arms around my leg, holding on tight. Non- Mom Chewy would shrug and head back to our room to read or research something. But Mom Chewy has to do mom stuff, so I gently unwrap Laney from me and kneel down to her level. I look into her bright green eyes briefly before settling on her button nose.

“Hey, it’s OK,” I soothe. “I will be with you the whole time, so you don’t need to be scared, OK?” I flick my eyes back to hers so she knows I’m being truthful with her.

Her dark brows are furrowed and her eyes dart to the big kids and back to mine. I cuddle her to me before setting her back, and looking at her once more.

“If any of those kids pick on you I’ll make sure to make them pay. I won’t beat the snot out of them or anything, but I’ll become their and their parents’ worst nightmare.”

Because my kid is the cleverest toddler there is, she understands every word, giving me a huge smile before tugging me into the room and the chaos. Jazz has set the children up on two of the long tables. She teaches special needs so there are some kids with crayons, some with pencils and some with large sponges and paints or with hand braces to help hold their chosen medium.

“This place smells bad,” Rodney starts up.

“Rodney, what have I told you? If you don’t have anything nice to say…” Jazz prompts.

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