Hubby’s out of town at a trade show this week.  Daughter has been away on a field trip studying environmental issues.

It’s just me and my little buddy.  Any given moment he’ll regress into the tiny boy he used to be, hugging me or wheedling a treat; at other times he offers a glimpse of the man he’s going to be all too soon, offering to help with a chore or battening down to do his homework.

We have the rare chance to talk alone in the car, without interruptions from other family members or television or electronics, after I drop his friend off back at his own home.  My son’s mind is churning, churning after spending several hours with his friend.  He’s worried about schoolmates and their reaction.  One of his friends has been jealous that he hasn’t gotten to spend time with my son after school.

“Well, I guess you and Nick will have to be discreet and not make a big thing out his visit today so that C.J. doesn’t feel left out," I tell him.

“Yeah, but Nick has a big mouth.  He went and told C.J. last time even though we already agreed we weren’t going to do that.  C.J. was pretty upset.  His feelings were hurt.”

“C.J. could call you, too, couldn’t he?”

“No, his phone’s not working.”

I don’t ask about this.  Some of his classmates are working poor, just making ends meet.  Perhaps the phone is broken and they just haven’t fixed it…but I don’t ask.

“Well, when C.J. can manage to call you, we’ll work it out.  If his phone’s not working we can’t call him, right?”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t work out.  That's why I haven't called him.  But if Nick says something, I’ll tell C.J. that he’s my next guest.”

“There.  That might make him feel better, don’t you think?  He’ll feel like you’re thinking about him and not feel as left out.”

“But Nick will whine if I say that to C.J.; he always whines.”

“This is a time when you have to ignore Nick’s behavior.  It’s fair that C.J. gets to come over next.  We do need to talk about Nick, anyhow; I think it’s going to be a while before he comes over again.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty wild.”  I check the review mirror; he’s raised his eyebrows, punctuating his comment.

“Umm, more than wild.  He doesn’t listen well and his manners aren’t good.  He knows how to say Thank You and Please, but that’s really not enough.  Feet on the table during dinner are not acceptable.  He’s sassy when he’s asked to do something.”

“Yeah, he’s like that at school too.  He wasn’t so bad in kindergarten but he’s pretty bad now.”

Here’s another point we don’t discuss.  Nick’s parents are divorced, and his mother is both ineffectual on discipline -- a classic doormat -- and harried by work, school, and two kids.  She’s called me from the school twice, right at the end of the school day as I’m walking out the door to get my son.  It seems that Nick insists that I’m picking him up along with my son although he’s not negotiated that with my son in advance.  I try to save face for her; she’s obviously not strong enough to say no to her son.  My son must have forgotten the rule, I tell her; he’s supposed to ask me the day before so that we can schedule accordingly.  I encourage her to make me the bad guy and tell Nick that I said no, but that we’ll pick him up the next day if it works for her schedule.  She agrees; I can almost feel her relief, even as I hear the wheedling and whining voice of her son in the background.

Good God, I hope this woman gets a spine transplant soon.  Her next marriage will end up even worse…and so will the kids.

“I can see that Nick’s very wild; he ran off and left you, even though our neighborhood is strange to him.  You must have been worried for him.”

“I was!  Mom, he didn’t come back when I yelled for him!”

“I know.  That was a choice he made, dear.  Just like the choice he made to walk on the new lawn.  We told him at least four different times that there is no walking on the grass; he still took my scooter and walked across the backyard with it.”

“That wasn’t nice, Mom.  I don’t know why he did that.  I wouldn’t do that, I didn’t walk on the grass and he did anyhow, even though I told him not to.”

“I can’t figure it out either, but that doesn’t matter.  He made a choice to walk on the new grass.  That wasn’t the only choice he made that was negative, either.  I think it’s best that Nick doesn’t come again for a while.”

At least not until the grass is mature and the yard less muddy, I think to myself.  And he's not borrowing my scooter again.

“Yeah, that’s probably the best thing, Mom.  It’s fair to C.J. and Nick needs to chill out.”

“Wow, look how much time we spent on that!  This is one of the most difficult things you’re ever going to have to learn, hon.  Relationships are complicated; they don’t teach you this like math or reading in school, but you’re learning about them anyhow at the same time.”

He laughs a bit at this; I can see his dimple flashing as I look in the rearview mirror.

“Oh nuts!  I just missed my turn!  I was so busy talking to you that I overshot the intersection!”

Oh Mom, it’s my fault, I’m sorry.  I was talking too much while you were driving.”

“No, it’s not, I wasn’t paying attention.  I’ll just go to the next intersection and come back.”

“Okay, Mom.  That’ll work.”

“Now what were we talking about?”

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t tell you, Sidney and Emma have a crush on me.  Super BIG crushes.”

“What?!”

I try to minimize my surprise, although I can’t suppress the exclamation; he’s only seven years old, a baby, and the girls have crushes on him already?  Agh, where has the time flown?  This is only the beginning; when will phone calls from girls start to flood the house?  When will we have the same conversation about girls being jealous about the time he’s spent with one or the other?

“Okay, Emma only has a half-big crush on me.  Olivia did too, she had a crush on me in kindergarten and first grade but she’s better now.”

What kind of mother am I that I didn’t know he was the object of a girl’s attention for two years, I ask myself…

“But I’m going to have to do something, Mom.”

“What do you mean, ‘do something’?  Are the girls fighting over you?”

“No.  They just have these super BIG crushes on me, they’re following me around and staring at me.  I’m going to have to do something about it.”

“Like what?”  I’m stymied here; what does a seven-year old do about relationships with male friends, let alone ‘super BIG crushes’ by members of the opposite sex?  I can’t remember having a crush on anyone until I was double-digits in age.  What we would we have done about it, back in the day?

He doesn't say anything right away.  I can almost feel the wheels spinning in his head.

“Okay, so is there something you need my help with?”

“No, I can handle it.”

“That’s good.”  He sounds so confident, like a pro who’s done this for years.

“I’m going to have to pick my nose or something like that in front of them.  That should make them stop.”

I am laughing so hard at this point, I can barely see.  Thankfully, we have pulled into our own driveway at this point so I can stumble into the house as I laugh.

He laughs too, a boyish giggle as he shuts the door behind us.

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