July Exclusive Tale - "Perfectly Natural" - Part 1

One

Toys et cetera

E. 55th Street, Chicago

The Mickey Mouse shape-sorter truck is made out of recycled milk jugs.

“Ten jugs!” Patricia exclaims, reading the outside of the box.

“Wow,” says Doug, “That’s something.” In truth, he’s not interested in recycled plastic. He’s not that interested in Mickey Mouse, for that matter. But he’s definitely interested in Patricia.

“No BPA,” continues Patricia. “Dishwasher safe.”

Doug laughs at this.

His new girlfriend raises an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

Doug stops laughing. “Just…” He shrugs. “I don’t…are you planning on putting it in the dishwasher?”

Patricia gives him an indulgent look. “You haven’t spent much time with small children, have you.”

No, he hasn’t. And Doug is okay with that. But if Doug wasn’t confident or knowledgeable about the habits and foibles of kids, today has been a crash-course. Their ‘day-time’ date, Patricia called it. A chance to spend quality time together that didn’t end with them going to bed together, after a week that Doug can only describe as rampant. Time to get to know Patricia’s son, of course. Because the kid isn’t going anywhere, the kid is part of the Patricia package. So what happens if they don’t get along? It’s not as if Jamie’s the one who might get kicked to the curb.

After a walk in the park, Jamie splitting his time between napping in his stroller or running along the greenway (and Doug can see the point of children here; someone to kick a ball with, a reason to push a swing), they had eaten lunch at the Frontera Grill, where Jamie, once again the center of attention, chowed down on guacamole and fried plantains.

Doug had looked at the green-fingered, sauce-faced mess, and wondered how on Earth passers-by were declaring the little boy adorable.

“He loves Mexican food,” Patricia had said with a mixture of amusement and pride, wiping him clean. “My little burrito baby, ain’t ya.”

Jamie had turned his face away from the paper towel, making a grab for the bowl of tortilla chips. “Noh bay-bee, mommy.”

And then it was time for a trip to Toys et cetera to ‘pick u something special’, Jamie enjoying a post-lunch nap in Patricia’s SUV.

Doug had marveled at Jamie’s ability to be chattering away, and then out cold as soon as he was buckled in his car seat.

“Yeah,” Patricia had said, “He sleeps so good in the car.” She chuckled. “I’m almost jealous. His whole life is eating, playing, napping…and he even has a chauffeur. Pretty sweet.”

Doug had nodded. “Well, when you put it that way.” But in truth, when he considered Jamie’s three-year-old life – utterly dependent, barely a coherent thought in his head – Doug wasn’t about to apply for the job.

It took just five minutes in the toy store before Jamie had negotiated his way out of his stroller and was pulling Patricia towards a bright yellow pull-along giraffe.

“Raff!” he announces, eager to educate his mother.

“That’s right, honey, clever boy!” She tousles the boy’s hair and tells Doug, “He knows all his animals. He really is very advanced for his age.”

Doug nods. “Right.” He looks at the toys on offer. Bunny peek-a-boo. A Critters music mat. Is this Doug’s future, if things get serious with Patricia? He stuffs his hands into his pant pockets. She doesn’t go to the toy store every day, surely. Right?

“Hey,” he says, “So I was thinking, tonight we could- “

“No-no, Jamie, come back.” Patricia calls out to the little boy who is on the verge of disappearing around the corner. She passes the truck box to Doug and jobs after her son. When she returns, the barely-three-year-old boy is squirming good-naturedly in her arms. “Lego’s, building blocks, and now the truck. If it can go in the dishwasher, I’m doing it. Kids are drooling, sticky-fingered monsters.” She kisses the top of the boy’s head. “Isn’t that right, Jamie. You’re my little monster.”

The boy nods his agreement, waving his chunky arms like the two dinosaurs high fiving on the front of his mustard-colored T-shirt. Rexcellent, indeed.

“Rawr”, says Jamie, grinning at his mother and then glancing shyly at Doug.

“Can you go pay for that?” Patricia asks Doug. She lowers her voice, as if her son wasn’t right there in her arms. “I don’t want him to see us buying it.” She smiles at him reassuringly. “I’ll Venmo you for it.”

“Is it a present?” asks Doug. Didn’t the kid just turn three?

“It’s a prize,” says Patricia. “Because someone is starting potty training tonight.” She beams at Jamie. “You excited about showing Mommy your tinkles in the potty?”

Doug resists curling his lip at the mention of potty-training.

“Uh-huh,” Jamie replies, but he seems more excited about getting down and running off again. Patricia lets him down but keeps a firm grip on his hand. “Is it okay if Doug comes and has dinner with us tonight?” she asks sweetly.

The little boy shakes his head, and then pulls his hand from his mother’s so he can fold his arms for emphasis.

Doug gives Patricia a mournful look. The last thing he wants to do is get to know a toddler, but the brat holds the keys to Patricia’s attentions.

Patricia changes her tone for Doug’s sake. ““Don’t worry,” says Patricia, “He just needs to spend some time with you, and then he’ll warm up.”

She crouches and says to Jamie, her tone sweet once again, “I bet Doug would love to play cars with you. He’s a boy too, and boys like cars, don’t they.”

Doug wrinkles his nose at being placed on the same level as a three-year-old but stay silent. And when the boy looks at him with new interest, Doug nods and says theatrically, “I lovecars!” At first, he’s worried that he sounds sarcastic, but it’s clear that Jamie takes people at their over-enthusiastic word.

The boy cracks a smile. “I got cars,” he informs the man. I goh caz.

“Cool,” Doug replies.

Patricia grins at both of them. “And you can show Doug your potty!”

“Wow,” says Doug. “Yeah, can’t wait.” And he wonders what time the kids goes to bed, and therefore what proportion of the evening will involve playing with plastic cars, and what proportion will be reserved for more adult activities.

And then he goes to pay for the truck.