Page 88 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
I pursed my lips and pressed a finger to my chin thoughtfully. “I think we just have to go back to the produce section to pick up an onion, and that’s it. Is there anything you can think of that we might have missed?”
“Nope.”
I nodded. “Good. Anything else you want?”
“Nope.”
“Excellent,” I said, pointing down the aisle. “To the produce department then.”
Asher walked purposefully forward, pushing the cart along with determination. We passed other families in the grocery store who were having a much different experience than me and my son.
Most were arguing. Kids were pitching fits because mom and dad wouldn’t buy them something they wanted. And by mom and dad, I meant mostly mom. There weren’t many dads in the grocery store on New Year’s Eve.
If the kids weren’t the ones making a fuss, it was the parent, who was likely in a foul mood from how crazy life had been over the holidays. New Year’s was the last big event before the nice calm quiet of winter sank in. No more family dinners. No more entertaining or endless cleaning. No more gift wrapping, secret keeping, and worrying about breaking a child’s heart if they found out Santa wasn’t real. Once you made it past New Year’s, you were home free until next year.
I was lucky to have a kid who was easygoing. He never made things a struggle for me.
“Hey, Ash?”
Asher stopped pushing the cart and looked back at me.
“Thanks for being awesome,” I said.
Asher cocked his head to the side. “You’re welcome.”
I laughed. “And so humble.”
“Humble?”
“Modest,” I said.
He still looked confused.
I chuckled and patted him on the head. “It means you’re polite and don’t think too highly of yourself in a cocky, arrogant sort of way.”
“Oh, I see. Well, thank you for being awesome too, Dad.”
“Not as awesome as you.”
“Can we go get the onion now?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes. Of course. Lead the way, good sir. Go forth to the onions.”
“You’re weird.”
“You’re lucky.”
We wandered through the produce section, and Asher took his time selecting the perfect onion. He didn’t want one with any brown spots, and he wanted the yellow dry shell to be the perfect shade all the way around. He checked them for firmness and even smelled them. I waited patiently until he chose a perfect golden onion, dropped it in a bag, and put it in the cart.
After, we went through the checkout and loaded up the trunk of the car. We put the cart away and headed home. Asher told me all about how excited he was for our New Year’s Eve night.
“The ball drops at midnight, right?”
I nodded. “Yep. Right when it hits twenty nineteen.”
“Don’t let me fall asleep this year, Dad. I don’t want to miss it again.”
“I recorded it for you last year.”
