Page 61 of Hiss and Tell
“Thad’s almost here,” I tell Aspen, who’s pulling garlic bread from the oven.
“Good. Milo’s been asking about Uncle Thad all week.”
It’s true—Milo has claimed Thaddeus as an honorary uncle, and Thad has embraced the role with surprising enthusiasm. The leather-jacketed enforcer becomes a completely different person around children, patient and gentle and endlessly creative with games and stories.
The doorbell rings just as we’re setting the table, and Milo races to answer it.
“Uncle Thad! I graduated! I wore a bow tie and everything!”
“No way!” Thad’s voice carries from the entryway. “Let me see this graduate properly.”
He appears in our kitchen with Milo on his shoulders, grinning broadly, while Sloane follows close behind, carrying a box that looks like it holds a professionally decorated cake. She’s wearing an amused expression as she watches Thaddeus’s theatrical entrance.
“Aunt Sloane!” Milo calls out happily. “Did you bring the good cake again?”
“Of course I did,” Sloane says with a laugh, setting the box on our counter. “I can’t let Uncle Thad’s reputation for showing up empty-handed continue unchallenged.”
“Hey! I brought something, too,” Thad gripes. “Sorry I missed the ceremony, kiddo. Had some business to handle, but I brought you something to make up for it.”
The “something” turns out to be a child-sized leather jacket with “Future Librarian” stamped on the back.
“For when you’re old enough to ride motorcycles and read stories to kids,” Thad explains seriously. “Very important to have the right gear.”
Milo tries it on immediately. The jacket, though kid-sized, is still comically big on him, but it makes him feel incredibly grown up. “Look, Mama! Look, Poppa Sebastian! I’m a motorcycle librarian!”
“The coolest kind,” I agree, while Aspen rolls her eyes fondly.
As we’re sitting down to eat, the doorbell rings again. Through the window, I spot three familiar figures: Iris, Mabel, and Dorothy, the Silver Swimmers who’ve appointed themselves honorary grandmothers to every child in Harmony Glen.
“Oh, good.” Aspen laughs. “I was wondering when they’d show up.”
The elderly women bustle in carrying an enormous cake decorated with academic caps and diplomas made of frosting.
“We couldn’t let Milo’s graduation pass without a proper celebration,” Iris announces, setting the cake on our counter. “This is a major milestone!”
“Plus, we wanted to give you some advice,” Dorothy adds, settling into a chair without being invited. “About kindergarten preparation and life skills development.”
“Don’t listen to Dorothy,” Mabel stage-whispers to Milo. “She thinks four-year-olds should be learning to balance checkbooks.”
What follows is a delightfully chaotic dinner party, with Thad telling increasingly ridiculous stories about his motorcycle adventures while Sloan provides perfectly timed fact-checks that make everyone laugh harder.
The Silver Swimmers use lulls in the conversation to offer contradictory advice about everything from nutrition to bedtime routines, and Milo holds court in his leather jacket, clearly delighted to be the center of so much attention.
During a brief lull in the conversation, he stands up on his chair and raises his milk glass as if he’s making a toast.
“I want to say thank you to everyone for coming to my graduation dinner,” he announces with the solemnity of a diplomat. “To Mama for taking care of me always, and to Poppa Sebastian for making everything magical, and to Daddy for bringing me the dinosaur book and sharing ice cream.”
A hush falls over the table as we process his words. This little boy has found space in his heart for everyone who shows up consistently.
“And to Uncle Thad for the jacket, and Aunt Sloane for the good cake, and to Grandma Iris and Grandma Mabel and Grandma Dorothy for the second good cake and for teaching me about swimming and for always having butterscotch candies.”
The Silver Swimmers practically glow with pride at being claimed as honorary grandmothers.
“But mostly,” Milo continues, “thank you for being my family. All of you. The kind that chooses to love each other.”
As he settles back into his chair, looking pleased with his speech, I feel Aspen’s emotions through our bond—overwhelming love, pride, and gratitude for the community that’s embraced our little family.
“To chosen family,” Thad says, raising his beer bottle.
