“Hey, buddy, can you give me a minute?”
He eyes me sagely. “You gotta pee-pee in da potty?”
I scratch my jaw. “Yeah.”
“Need my stool?” He points to the plastic step stool next to the toilet.
“Nah, dude,” I say, chuckling. “Just some privacy.” I actually don’t mind pissing in front of him. Bear and I have both done it before. The three of us have peed side by side in the woods by Mom and Dad’s.
Taking a leak outdoors is a male rite of passage.
But given the morning wood song, I’m thinking Maggie wouldn’t necessarily approve at the moment.
“I’ll just shut this for a minute.” I grab the edge of the door and slowly close it, hoping Grayson will take the hint. Aside from being musical mimics, three-year-olds aren’t so good at taking hints. “Can you step back there, buddy?”
My nephew takes two steps back, but since his feet are only like four inches long, his steps are pretty small, and it still feels like I’m about to close the door in his face. “Be right back,” I say when I can still see his face through the narrowing gap.
I shut the door and latch the lock.
“Unca Lawk?” It sounds like Grayson is pressing his mouth right into the door jamb.
“Yeah, buddy?” I lift the toilet seat.
“I gonna get a haiw cut.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I tell him and start to piss.
“Unca Lawk?”
“Yeah, little man?”
“Are you pee-peeing?”
“Um… sure am.”
“I can heaw it.”
It’s really great that Bear and Maggie are letting me stay on the couch, but I need to find a new place. Like today.
So far, my search on Zillow and Rent Lafayette has been a total bust. I want a place close to campus but now that we’re two weeks into the semester, there’s just nothing. No apartments. No rent houses.
“Das a lot of pee-pee, Unca Lark.” Grayson practically shouts it this time, and Bear’s voice carries through the house.
“Boy, get away from that bathroom door.”
I don’t have class until ten this morning. That gives me a good three hours to hunt for a new place.
When I’m dressed and presentable, I step out of the bathroom to find Bear laying places and Maggie carrying her platter of steaming pancakes and jug of syrup to the table.
Okay, there are upsides to crashing here.
“Mmm, Maggie you are my queen,” I tell her.
She smirks her satisfaction as she sets down her creation. “Have as many as you want. There’s more batter.”
Bear forks the top three off the stack and drops them on his plate, but I know which side my pancake is buttered on. I take the next three and lay them on Maggie’s plate. Now her smirk melts into a touched grin.
“Aww,” she coos.
