He cocks his head to the side looking at me like the twenty-one-year-old kid he thinks I am.

“You better hope tonight isn’t the night I finally need it.” I stand and grin leaving him before he can ask me more.

4

KATRINA

I was never particularly fond of mornings. Looking back that seems ridiculous. I mean how hard was it to get only myself up and out the door? Mornings now, though, are torture. Someone should warn you before having kids that getting up before the sun lasts way beyond the baby years. And those little Energizer Bunnies don’t understand the concept of not speaking until you’ve had a cup of coffee.

Nope, Christian barreled into my room before the sun even thought about rising and he’s been going nonstop ever since, chattering away all the while.

“Christian, we’re leaving in two minutes.” I don’t know why I give him a warning like that’s somehow going to hurry him up. My three-year-old son has no concept of time.

I grab my books and laptop and shove them in my backpack running through a mental checklist making sure I have everything for school, and he has what he needs for a weekend with his dad.

“Don’t forget to grab your soccer ball in case you guys go to the park.” Highly unlikely but if he takes the ball, there’s at least some chance that Victor will feel obligated to spend some time with his son. I’m so far beyond subtle manipulation at this point.

“Alright let’s load up.” I heave my backpack on my shoulder and grab the soccer ball that I spot laying on the living room floor. I mean honestly it isn’t like I wasn’t going to have to carry it anyway.

Christian comes running out of his room, messy blonde hair and a smile that doesn’t understand his mother isn’t a morning person. “I need to pack some treats for Rex!”

“Already done. They’re in your backpack. Did you brush your teeth?”

Instead of answering he looks up like he’s trying to remember that far back. That’s a no.

“Come on, let’s brush them real quick.” I put my backpack and the soccer ball back down and he skips off down the hallway. I follow behind, picking up toys and dirty clothes in his path. I can hear the faucet turn on and then the unmistakable sound of him karate chopping the water with his toothbrush. I resist raising my voice, it doesn’t do any good, but gently correct him as I enter the bathroom. “No playing in the water. It makes a mess, remember?”

“It’s just water. It’ll dry.”

Fair point.

Wordlessly I help him brush his teeth, clean up the water with his bath towel, and then I grab my stuff again. It usually takes two or three tries to get out the door. I plan for this by adding a fifteen-minute buffer.

“Do you think Grandma Nadine will let Rex sleep in my room this time?” Christian asks as I head for the door, hopeful this time we’ll make it to the other side.