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“Found it!”
“You found one? But is it a good one?” I tease, knowing full well I’ll enjoy the experience of watching a movie with my girls whether I like the movie or not.
“Hidden Figures,” she replies simply, stating only the title of the movie before clicking the description on the screen and reading it aloud to us. “An incredible and inspiring untold true story about three women at NASA who were instrumental in one of history’s greatest operations.”
“Oooh!” Maria crows from the kitchen, picking up the dish of spaghetti, a hot pad, and the basket of garlic bread all at once to come to the table. “That sounds good, Lexi Lou. Go ahead and get it started.”
“I’ll come get Iz,” I add, rounding the table to do just that so that Lexi can come sit down.
Once a happy Izzy is buckled into the bouncer seat we always keep by us during dinner, I give her one last tickle and set the mobile overhang and vibrations in motion. One squeeze to Maria’s hip and I pull out the chair beside her. She takes a seat with a grateful smile and then promptly starts dishing the food onto all our plates.
Lexi’s first, then mine, then her own. Like always, she makes sure to take care of us.
As the movie starts and we dive into the food, I can’t help but notice the immediate similarities between one of the main women, Katherine, and our Lexi.
“She’s smart like you, Lex,” I remark, making her mouth curve up in a bashful smile. It’s a special expression, one I’ve come to cherish from her over the years. It’s not big and bright and toothy—it’s shy and intentional. It’s a tiny sliver of her golden light, escaping the secret place she keeps it, for all to see.
It also reminds me that I haven’t told her parents she’s staying the night, and I grab my phone to do it before I forget. “Just going to tell Winnie and Wes that she’s staying,” I explain to Maria.
She nods appreciatively, remarking, “Good idea. Don’t want them thinking we stole their kid.”
I smirk and hit send on a text to Wes and Winnie.
Me: Lex is going to stay the night here…if that works for you guys.
I quickly look up to see if Maria can see my phone from where she’s sitting, and when I note that her eyes are riveted to the TV, I shoot off another text. Mind you, it’s slightly in code, but I’m confident they’ll understand.
Me: PS: I can drop the packages off at mom’s house tomorrow. Both of them. After brunch.
Starting tomorrow, Wendy Winslow will be hosting a girls-only slumber party. Well, girls only, plus Howard.
It originally started out as her watching Izzy because I have a big surprise planned for Maria, but once Lex found out her favorite tiny human was going to be with her grandmother for five days straight, she all but begged Winnie to join in on the fun this weekend.
Winnie: Oh yeah, THE PACKAGES… So glad you can do that. *wink wink* And it works out perfectly for tonight since we’re running behind at the stadium.
Me: You realize the whole *wink wink* is a real tip-off, right?
Winnie: I have no idea what you’re talking about *wink wink*
Wes: Thanks for doing that, man. *wink wink*
Winnie: Yeah, thanks, Rem. *wink wink*
Smartasses.
Wes: PS: Word on the street is that you’re currently in first place for DILF of the Year.
Me: What? Thatch still has me in that fucking contest?
Winnie: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
My sister is clearly getting far too much amusement out of this.
Wes: It’s Thatch. Don’t even bother trying to stop it, bro. Your effort would be wasted. But I have to say, he’s never let anyone sit in first place for this long. You should feel special, dude.
Oh yeah, so fucking special.
Switching message threads, I move over to Thatch’s—previously filled with crap about investments—and address the issue at hand.
Me: What’s this shit I hear about DILF of the Year?
Thatch: You’re winning, dude! Complete underdog situation if you ask me, considering you haven’t even signed any adoption papers yet!
Me: I would like to rescind my entry.
Thatch: Sorry, darling. Once the contest begins, you can’t pull out.
Me: But I never fucking entered the contest in the first place.
Thatch: Unfortunately, the rules of the contest are set in stone, and just between us, the dude who runs it is a real stickler about them.
Me: BUT IT’S YOU.
Thatch: Like I said, rules are rules.
Me: I forfeit.
Thatch: Uh-oh. Trouble in Full House paradise? Tell me you’re not done with the hot single mom already?
Me: There’s no trouble. I just don’t want to be a clown in your circus.
Thatch: Wait…what do you mean by clown? If you tell me you’re dressing up as a clown for your baby, I’ve underestimated you.
Me: I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m on drugs talking to you.
