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“What if she wants her underpants, like if she wants to go upside-down on the monkey bars?” Phoebe asked.
“It’s no big deal,” Aria replied. “My uncle Landy has some for her. He carries them in his pocket. He calls them special private doilies, but they’re just ladies’ underpants.”
Now it was his turn to blush like a ripe tomato.
“The word doily must be your uncle’s codeword,” Phoebe shot back. “It’s like my codeword for when I want a hot dog. I say gimme a D. Boy, oh boy, do I need some D.”
If he wasn’t scared of dropping the pillow, he’d have beeen belly laughing his ass off.
“Go get your adults ready,” Aria said, channeling an exhausted parent. “I’ll see you guys in a little bit.” The little girl ended the call, then pegged him with her gaze. “You and Aunt Harper have one minute to get yourselves ready,” she chided, as her iPad pinged. Aria stared at the screen.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Phoebe just sent a message. She says that our sometimes-class-helper-lady, Ms. Malone, just told her uncle Rowen that she’s going to meet us at the park, too.”
Aria held up the iPad for him to see.
He skimmed the message, then met his wife’s gaze. “Madelyn’s joining us at the park, and she says she’s got something to tell us, and she’s bringing somebody special.”
