Our son has a crush on ChunChun’s doctor, she said.
The grin grew wider. It’s cute, right? Our little four-year old.
I processed this information for a nanosecond, proud yet formalizing my necessary involvement in this situation. This guy situation.
My son was eyeballing an older woman. I had questions.
Is she hot, I asked my wife?
My wife, not the jealous type, not the what-does-that-have-to-do-
She is cute, Conquistadora confessed.
Okay, Dad time. This is the moment I have prepared my whole life for: to have a man-to-man talk with my son about the female gender. De hombre a hombre. No need to crack open some juices boxes on this one and get all Bird and the Bees, just a brief lesson that I can teach him maybe on a car ride to Target.
Conquistadora reluctantly agreed to hand me, the former Player of Players and serial Loser Boyfriend, over to him. She gets protective of her child. What are you going to say? It will be innocent honey, I said. He doesn’t need a lecture I assured her.
Later that day, it was just Spawn 1 and I.
G, I began, did you have eyes for the doctor today? Were you macking on a MILFY WILFY?
Huh? He shrunk his lips and whipped his head back to the cartoon playing on the TV/
He doesn’t know that language. Someday he will learn Player Language.
Did you find the doctor sweet and nice today? He rubbed his chin into his chest and looked away, not before suppressing a coy smile.
Was she hot?
Son, you said you were going to marry Mommy when you grow up. What’s this new love all about? It is adorable. Occasionally my son will ask, "Dada when I grow up and marry Mommy, can we get a dog?" It’s so sweet. Mom is his gal.
He wasn’t ready for “the talk” about the cute doctor. Maybe in thirteen years. Fine.
But I had to press. This was good Chit. Did you get her number?
Huh? Still nothing.
He is such a handsome boy- olive skin and rail thin in that Johnny Depp with a tan kind of way.
G Frenzy lucked out on the beauty gene. His mom is super hot. Mexican, American Indian and Austrian. Exotica...But my son can't cheat on my wife. That's not cool.
This was gong nowhere. Carry on, I said, a little disappointed I couldn’t teach him how to score a number or how to bring some Barry White smooth talking on a babe. Or learn how to take a slap on the face with dignity and pick up ones man pride off the floor, something at which I became an expert.
Conquistadora came down shortly after our talk, nodded me into the the other room and asked how it went.
It didn’t go anywhere I said. He is hiding something from us. That’s okay.
He’ll do the same when he is huffing joints in his friend’s garage trying to steal third on Monique when he is thirteen. I get it.
She looked at me like I was pathetic but refrained from whacking her hand off my face.