December Boys
“I had no choice but to call Jenny and reschedule.
At first she was very accommodating.
“No, I understand, Jay,” she said. “These things happen.”
I hadn’t even offered an explanation.
“Is he there? Can I talk to him?”
“Of course. Hold on.” I heard her say, “It’s your Daddy.” And then rustling on the other end as my son dropped whatever toy he’d been playing with to talk to me. Feels good as a dad when you win out over a piece of plastic.
“Hi, Daddy,” Aiden said.
“I’m sorry, buddy. I wanted to come up and see you today. But I had to . . . work. We’ll do it tomorrow, okay? Just me and you. Something real special. Like pizza.”
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m eating pizza now.”
“You are? Is it super tasty or regular tasty?” The two markers by which my son judged all cuisine.
“Super tasty.”
“Pepperoni?”
“No,” my son said. “Seeven doesn’t eat peppewoni. He’s a wedgatarian.”
I heard the phone ripped from my son’s hand.
“Okay,”
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