The Good Hair Family Sitcom

S1 E6.2: Eye of the Ten Year-Old Boy

TJ's POV

Usually in the morning, Cyrus and I get our breakfast and sit down at the round table that's tucked into the back of the kitchen by the bay window, joining Wyatt in the meal. Jayda always takes much longer to get ready, resulting in her having to eat her toast in the car on the way to school. While Jayda's part holds true today, Cyrus and I don't sit at the table with Wyatt. Instead, we watch from behind the island as he stares out at something in the yard. He doesn't even have his breakfast yet.

"Wyatt," I say, "you should get your cereal."

"But I'm looking at the little dragon in the backyard," he responds.

Confused, I wind around the island to get a better look at what he's pointing at.

"Wyatt, that's a cat," I state.

"Then why does it have wings?"

"Those are leaves in its fur."

"Ohhhhhhh. That's boring."

I turn to come back toward the island, but Wyatt stays staring at the yard.

"Wyatt, cereal," I remind him, and he spins around.

"Right," he says.

While Wyatt goes into the pantry to search for what he wants, Cyrus comes over to me with a concerned expression.

"When was the last time we took him to the eye doctor?" he whispers.

"Have we ever taken him to an eye doctor?" I counter.

"Well, maybe we should."

I glance over at Wyatt who's in the midst of getting out a bowl for his alphabet cereal. His short, blonde curls bounce atop his head as he jumps to reach the shelf in the cupboard. He manages to get a bowl and drops it down with a clack on the counter.

"That's a good idea," I agree.

"These aren't letters!" Wyatt suddenly says as he looks down at the cereal in his bowl. "They're just blobs."

I return my attention to my husband, saying, "I'll book that appointment right now."

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Jonah's POV

It's been a couple days, and now my beard is actually becoming visible, although it's far from being full. As Walker finishes washing the last dish that we used to make supper, I go over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. He smiles and sets the last plate down on the drying rack then turns to face me.

"What do you want to do now?" I ask him.

"I know what you should do," he replies. "Shave that beard."

"Come on," I say. "It's not that bad. You must think I'm a little attractive."

"You are attractive," he states, "but the carpet glued to your face is not."

I grin and step in, hoping to crack his strictness, but when I try to kiss him, he backs away.

"You know," he says, "I made a promise to myself  when I was young to never kiss a guy with a beard."

"That's a weirdly specific promise to make."

"Yeah, well, I can't break it. Shave the beard, and then I'll kiss you."

He shrugs and starts walking away toward the stairs.

"You've got to be kidding," I say.

"Shave the beard!" he shouts back.