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Over the next twenty minutes, I pack up my SUV with things we need—chairs, stroller, towels, floaties, sunscreen—while Emily wrangles Teddy into his swimsuit and packs a bag for him of lunch and other kid needs. Then, I’m strapping Teddy into his booster seat, and we’re off to the small beachfront park that’s only a mile or so away from the house.
I set up our towels and chairs as Emily slathers Teddy in sunscreen, and then we sit together in silence as he chases after the flock of birds nearby. At some point, she gets up and goes to play with him, the two of them walking to the edge of the water but then running away with laughter every time the waves surge in.
Emily’s laugh is probably one of the things I like most about her, apart from how good she is with my son. It’s this clear thing, this beautiful, melodic sort of sweetness, and I’ve caught myself smiling more than a few times at the sound of it ringing through the house.
Usually, I curse myself and turn into an irritable mess for smiling at the sound of the nanny’s laughter.
But today, I decide to cut myself some slack. Closing my eyes and letting my head rest on the back of my chair, I try to turn off everything and just listen to the two of them mixed with the sound of the crashing waves. It tightens something in my chest. Something unexpected. Something deep and raw.
The way they play. The way her laughter ebbs and flows with his.
“Get him, Teddy!”
The sound of Emily’s voice is much closer than I expect, and I open my eyes behind my sunglasses. That’s when I see that she and Teddy are just a few feet away, and my boy is racing toward me with a big, ridiculous smile on his face.
He launches himself into my arms with a cry of excitement, and I shriek dramatically, pretending I want to get away from his damp feet and sandy hands. We play fight for a bit before I lift his body up then draw him into my face, smooching his neck and cheeks and making him giggle in that way only little kids can do.
“Time for puhbuhs?”
Emily’s question has the intended effect, and Teddy squirms out of my arms with his hands reaching out for the sandwich she’s holding where she sits on a towel.
“Ah, ah, ah, what do we do first?” she asks him.
He pauses, glancing at me and back at Emily. Then he picks up a wet wipe she has in her other hand and rubs it over his dirty, sandy fingers.
“Good job, Ted!” she says with a smile, handing him the sandwich square with no crusts.
He grins and takes a big bite, the peanut butter instantly smearing on his face.
“I figure it’s not necessarily about getting his hands super clean, since sand isn’t really going to hurt him,” Emily says, drawing my attention to where she sits, shins on the ground. “But it’s about teaching that habit of trying to clean before he eats.”
I take a deep breath, trying not to hear the thing my mind is telling me she’s saying and instead hear her actual words.
She’s not telling me I was a shit father who didn’t teach his kid to wash his hands. She’s just making conversation and letting me know the things she’s teaching my kid.
Letting out my breath, I nod, trying to be friendly and—possibly—even conversational.
“It’s a good habit for him to learn so early.”
Emily smiles, something soft and easy.
“It is. I’m also going to be working on it for the bathroom, too. It gets a bit messy in there sometimes, but kids will take better care when they go potty if they feel responsible for keeping themselves and the space clean.”
I nod my head, wondering when talking about my son using the bathroom became the go-to conversation point.
Melody certainly never involved herself in this kind of stuff. She left it all up to me.
“I guess I don’t really need to explain this to you. He’s been super easy to teach so far, and that’s a reflection of the things you’ve been doing with him already.”
At that, I’m sure the surprise at her compliment is apparent on my face.
“Yeah, well…I’ve learned a lot by being a stay-at-home-dad, but I definitely don’t know everything.”
“I gotta be honest, it’s so refreshing to hear a man say that,” she tells me with a wide smile on her face. “I so often talk with guys who act like they know everything about whatever we’re discussing, and sometimes I just want them to say, ‘You know, I don’t actually know anything about that.’”
“Well, when it comes to kids, I can definitely admit I don’t know it all. But I really do know everything else there is to know in the world, about any topic. So prepare yourself.”
She laughs again, the sound clear and beautiful and easy.
