The Good Hair Family Sitcom

S1 E11.1: Neon Potato

Cyrus's POV

I think this is probably the first time that it's really hitting me: my little girl isn't a little girl anymore. She's growing up with every step that she comes down the stairs in her shimmery, emerald green mini dress. It has spaghetti straps and a cowl neck to show off her silver, crescent moon necklace, the one that TJ and I gave her for her middle school graduation. This is just a grade nine dance, but seeing her all dressed up makes me emotional. I don't know why. It must be due to the natural association of dressing nice with becoming an adult. She's only fifteen. She can't even drive yet. She's far from an adult, but she's certainly not a kid. I still have some time with her, and I want to hold on to those moments for as long as I can.

"You look beautiful," I say.

"Thanks," Jayda responds. "This dress costed you guys a fortune, so I better."

I glance over at TJ in concern, but he doesn't look any more knowledgeable than me.

"Um, what?" he mutters.

"What?" Jayda responds, smiling innocently.

"Did you check the price?" I ask TJ quietly.

"No, I just typed in my credit card and let her buy it online."

I place my hand on his arm gently, saying, "Let's stop doing that, okay?"

There's a knock on the front door, and I step ahead to answer it, greeting the entrant with a smile. Andreas nods to me, but his eyes are quickly turned in Jayda's direction, and his mouth drops.

"Woah."

Jayda puts a hand on her hip, saying, "Thanks."

"No, I'm talking about the paint on the stairs."

Andreas steps forward and kneels down on the stairway where a giant splotch of orange paint is dried, forcing Jayda to move over in the process. As the boy examines the spot, Jayda rolls her eyes and steps down the rest of the way to the main floor.

A second later, Buffy enters in through the front door and smiles at us.

"Yeah, Wyatt had an art project," TJ explains to Andreas, "and he wanted to finger paint, but he also doesn't wash his hands as much as he should. There's paint everywhere right now."

Summoned by his name, our son comes waltzing into the room, wondering, "Are you talking about me?"

Blue and orange paint covers his sleeves and arms, and there's even some in his blonde curls. He doesn't look like he was painting. He looks like he was wresting two paint cans and lost.

"Wyatt, go wash your hands," I instruct, "before you get paint all over Buffy and Marty's house."

"Fine," the boy sighs.

He trudges around the stairs to the powder room, and Buffy steps out of the way while he passes.

"Can we hurry up?" Jayda asks. "I don't want to be late."

"We're already late," Andreas responds.

"I'm fashionably late. Any later is just rude to my date."

"I guess we should get going," I agree.

Wyatt comes back out of the washroom smearing tinted blue water on his pants.

"Come on, Wyatt," Buffy says. "I'll drop you off at my house. Marty is looking forward to a fun evening with you."

"Cool, does he have paint?" Wyatt asks.

Buffy hesitates a second, looking over the boy's stained clothes, before replying, "No. No, he does not."

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