Grey Hearts and Flowers

Hearts and Hams

"Why do I have to wear a girly pink tie?" Teddy asks as I perfect his Windsor knot outside the preschool class just before we enter the festivities—ham and son.

"It's Valentine's Day," I say. I can barely bend over in this fucking pink rubber monstrosity they've got me in. I look like a gigantic whoopee cushion, only if I was, at least I could let the hot air out. "And girls like a man in a suit. Now, comb your hair like I taught you."

He nods and takes the comb I gave him out of his inside jacket pocket and slicks his hair back tight on the sides. I step away and take a look. That Armani suit is really something. He looks exactly like a little me. Well, if I didn't have pineapple rings adhered to various parts of my poor man's prosciutto.

"Do you think I shoulda shaved?" Teddy asks.

"No, I think you're just clear of a five o'clock shadow."

"But, it's not even lunchtime," he says, seemingly horrified at what might happen to his facial follicles by dinner.

"Don't worry, you look great," I say. "Now, do you have your Valentine's presents?"

He nods and picks up his backpack. It looks like he's armed with explosives carrying that thing. Poetically, maybe he is. I pray to God this girl doesn't break his heart.

"You know what you're going to say?"

"Would you..." He looks up at the ceiling like he's thinking. "Would you be my valentine 'cause I bought you stuff if you be it."

"Don't say the "bought you stuff" part. Just ask her to be your valentine." Ana would've smacked me upside the head if I ever used that line. Actually, if you replace submissive with valentine, I kind of did.

"Okay, you ready?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says, with a bit of trepidation, adjusting his collar and wiping his brow with his own monogrammed handkerchief that Gail has of course provided. Like father like son.

He looks up at me. "Dad, if the butterflies in my tummy get too many, can they explode and make me dead?"

"No. You're a Grey man," I say. "You can do this. Besides, butterflies aren't a bad thing. In fact, if I get them before a big meeting I tell them, "troops, help me out here," and they usually help me land the deal."

"You talk to the bugs in your tummy and they help you with your big work?" he asks, amazed.

"Often better than the sheep I employ." I laugh. "Or the snakes."

"You got a lot of animals at work," Teddy says.

"Tell me about it." I laugh. "It's a jungle out there."

I open the door and lead him through. It's a jungle in here.

We walk into what I'd imagine you'd get if Mr. Roger's Neighborhood and the Hallmark store had a rave. The place is wall-to-wall populated by school children high on cupcake frosting and glitter carded love passing out hugs and conversation candies to each other like it's the common cold. They're probably passing that around, too. I swear there's so much hearts and flowers action going on around here it would've made twenty-seven-year-old me run for my life. Since when did Kreative Kidz become  Tindr for the Kinder set?

"Okay son," I say. "Do you see her?"

"She's in the yard by the teeter totter until five minutes before recess is over."

"Every day?"

He nods." She watches us play there."

"She doesn't play herself?"