VINNIE
“Areyou excited?”
Withan incredulous look, I rolled my head against the pillow to face my wife. “Areyou kiddin'? Of course, I'm excited.”
“Well,I mean, I wasn't sure,” she replied. “Especially when you consider how it wentthe last time you were at a party with my family.”
Isnickered, leaned it to kiss her lips, and said, “That was then, sweetheart.Things are different now. And besides,” I climbed out of bed to pull on a pairof sweatpants, “this time, we're hostin', and if I wanna bang my wife in themiddle of my fuckin' kitchen, I'm gonna do it.”
Shegroaned and pulled the blanket over her head. “Oh, God, please don't.”
“Comeon,” I went on, grabbing my sweatshirt, “imagine the looks on your sisters'faces. They'd fuckin' love it.”
Andyuncovered her eyes and leveled me with a hardened glare. “One day, you're gonnalove them.”
“Yeah,”I snorted. “Maybe after I'm dead and need you to give 'em the message.”
Shewasn't amused. “Well, you can at least pretend.”
“How'bout this? I'll start pretendin' when they--”
“Daddy!”
Thelittle voice came from the next room, and I couldn't help the groan as itpassed through my lips. I looked to Andy, hoping she'd take one for the team,but she only shrugged and offered an apologetic grimace.
“Hewants you, baby.”
“Healways wants me.”
“Youshould be happy you're his favorite,” she said, with a gentle laugh.
“Iknow, I know,” I muttered. “But I can't help that I got other shit to do beforethis shindig.”
“Yougo see what he wants, and I'll start getting the food ready.”
Agreeingwith a nod, I headed through the door and hung a sharp right into my son'sroom. He was sitting up in his bed, with a book in hand, as usual. The kid wasincredibly smart and loved to read and learn. He was, for all intents andpurposes, my polar opposite, and he was the best thing that could've happenedin my life.
“Hey,buddy, what's up?”
“Whattime is the barbecue?”
“Uh,five o'clock,” I answered, lowering my eyebrows with curiosity. “Everybody'sgonna come by probably closer to four. Why?”
“'CauseI wanna pick a book for Natalie and Katherine to read to me, and I need time.”
Inarrowed my eyes and poked the inside of my cheek with my tongue, searching forthe right words, before saying, “Uh, bud, Nat and Kat can't read yet. They'rejust learnin' now.”
“Iknow,” Vincent groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “But they gottapractice.”
Snorting,I nodded. “Well, I can't argue with you there. You got plenty of time, okay?But you better pick a good one.”
Mybrilliant three-year-old little boy climbed out of bed with a surge ofdetermination and headed straight for his shelves, stuffed with an array ofbooks. And in his Spider-man pajamas, with his blond hair sticking up in everydirection, he proceeded to pull each one out and throw it on the floor, as hesearched for the perfect book to lend his four-year-old cousins.
Ileft his room with a chuckle and a disbelieving shake of my head. It still leftme in a state of awe, to think that my son had taught himself to read at theage of two. He flew through everything Dr. Seuss and Eric Carle had to offer bythe time he was three, and now, he was confidently consuming his collections ofCurious Georgeand theBerenstain Bears. Even Andy, who was farmore intelligent than I was, couldn't believe how smart this kid was. It was agift, and it wasn't the only one he possessed.
“Ishe okay?” my wife asked, as I entered the kitchen.
“Yeah,he's all good. Just pickin' out a book for Zach's kids.”
