I don’t even get the term, “the birds and the bees”. I’m going to have to tell my son about the birds and the bees in the car on the way to my father’s house. Frankly, I don’t think I can be trusted not to open up the door and jump out. I don’t think Carter can be trusted to keep the car in our lane at this moment. Thank God we are stopped at another red light.

He looks at me and I look at him, and we both look in the backseat at Gavin. “Heh, heh! What do you mean, buddy?” Carter asks, laughing nervously. You know how when you’ve told a lie and someone catches you in it your face gets all hot and you get butterflies in your stomach? It’s ten times worse when it’s your own freaking toddler calling you out and looking at you like, “Are you kidding me with this shit?” “I know what you guys are doin’ when you make a phone call,” Gavin pipes up nonchalantly from the backseat. What are we even talking about anymore? Is there a point when innuendos jump the shark? “Your Palm PDA is no match for my…Vtech Cordless,” I stammer. It does not store any personal data.“Don’t be jealous because the phone gets more time with me during the week than you do,” I console him with a pat on his hand. The cookie is set by the GDPR Cookie Consent plugin and is used to store whether or not user has consented to the use of cookies. The cookie is used to store the user consent for the cookies in the category 'Performance'.

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Futures and Frosting by Tara Sivec