Stop thinking about Claire on her knees. Stop thinking about Claire on her knees. Think about that old lady from Titanic naked.

Gavin pointed to me. "Carter’s got a big wiener, Mom. Sumfin's wrong with him. He was making the same noises I do when my tummy hurts."

Claire smothered a laugh and finally looked me in the eyes.

"I guess I don't need to ask if you slept well!" she said brightly.

I shook my head at how chipper she was this early in the morning after last night.

"How are you even able to function this morning?" I asked, looking her over. Aside from looking a little sleepy, she still looked amazing. Her hair was wild, she had a little bit of make-up smudged underneath one eye and she wore an old tank top and shorts that had seen better days, yet she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

She laughed and pointed to Gavin.

"You learn real quickly that as a parent, you don't have time for a hangover. Extra Strength-Rapid Release Tylenol and I have become very close over the years."

The phone rang and she hurried out of the living room to answer it, leaving Gavin to stand there and stare at me.

"So, how was your sleepover at Grandpas last night?" I asked as I flung the blanket off of me now that my morning glory was under control.

He shrugged.

"Do I have a vagina?"

I stared blankly at him, not quite sure I heard him correctly.

"Uh, what?" I asked, swinging my legs around and placing my feet on the floor.

He let out a huff of irritation with me.

"I said, do I have a vagina?"

I turned towards the kitchen to see Claire on the phone, pacing back and forth. Shit, I was on my own with this one. How the hell does he even know the word vagina? Wait, maybe he doesn't. He's four for fuck's sake. He probably thinks vagina means Cleveland.

"Well, Gavin, um…do you know what that words means?"

Please say Cleveland. Please say Cleveland.

"Papa watched a movie last night and the guy said he felt like he was driving around in a vagina. Can I drive a vagina? Does a vagina have windows and a horn?"

Oh holy mother of shit.

"Shit. Son of a bitch!" Claire cursed as she walked back into the living room.

Gavin opened his mouth but Claire was quick to cut him off.

"Don't you even think about repeating what I said. Go to your room and find some clothes to wear. You have to go to work with Mommy today."

Gavin scampered off and his vagina comment was momentarily forgotten when I saw the look of worry on Claire’s face.

"What's going on? What happened?"

She flopped down next to me on the couch, rested her head on the back of it and closed her eyes.

"My dad was supposed to watch Gavin today so I could finish up some things at the shop but he got called in to work," she said with a sigh.

Light bulb.

"I can watch him for you," I said immediately.

She lifted up her head and stared at me with her mouth open.

"Seriously, Claire, let me do this for you. I would be happy to take him today and get to spend some time with him."

After forty minutes of Claire listing all of the small objects he could fit into his mouth, making me repeat the number for Poison Control back to her eight times and drawing me a diagram with stick figures on a paper towel of how to do CPR, Gavin and I kissed Claire good-bye, got into my car and headed to the library for story time.

It was a public place, full of kids and parents who knew how to take care of kids in case I had a problem or questions. What could possibly go wrong?

***

"…and the sex? Oh you can just kiss that shit good-bye right now. Before we had our son my wife was a dirty little whore. She'd give me blow jobs while I drove down the freeway, she'd dress up in a naughty nurse uniform and greet me at the door when I got home from work and whenever we went out, we always pulled the car over on the way home and fucked in the front seat."

The man sitting next to me let out a great big sigh. He was another father I met when Gavin and I arrived at the library. He was there with his three-year old son and eight-year-old daughter. His daughter was from a previous relationship and he had his son with his current wife. We started talking when I sat down next to him on one of the couches while the boys sat in a circle with a bunch of other kids a few feet away listening to the librarian read them a book. After telling him the condensed version of my relationship with Claire and Gavin, I asked him for some parenting tips since he’d been around the block a lot longer than me. Little did I know it would turn into a "how much kids fucked up my life" speech.

"But after our son was born, my penis got put on the "do not call" list. Sometimes, if I listen really closely, I can often hear the sound of "Taps" being played from my lonely balls," he whispered to me as he waved his hand and smiled at his son.

Jesus. Claire and I hadn't even got to the sex part yet. Was this really how it would be? Before I demanded that this guy tell me something good so I wouldn't have nightmares tonight, his daughter Finley ran over to him with a book in her hands.

"Daddy, can you read me this book about horses?” she asked sweetly as she climbed up onto his lap.

“Sure, baby girl,” he replied, wrapping an arm around his daughter and taking the book from her hand.

See? Look at how sweet kids could be. They might be little hellions sometimes but they definitely had hearts of gold. And there was nothing sweeter than watching a father with his daughter.

"Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph…where did you get this book?" the man asked as a few parents looked in his direction and shot him dirty looks.

I glanced over to see what the problem was and noticed the book in his hand read “The Big Book of Lesbian Horse Stories.” My mouth fell open in horror and I looked around to see if anyone had noticed that there was porn in the children’s section of the library.

“Honey, go pick out another book,” he told her calmly as he hid the book behind his back.

“But I want that one, it’s got horses in it,” she argued.

“Well, you can’t read that one. That’s a big person book. It’s not for kids.”

Finley rolled her eyes and huffed, handing him the other book she brought over with her, “Poop Eaters”.

This time, her father was the one to roll his eyes. “Poop Eaters”? Again? Really, Finley. You need to find another hobby.”

“She’s got this thing about poop,” he told me as he took the book from her. “When she was little, she used to finger-paint her room with the poop in her diaper.”

He chuckled at the memory and I covered my mouth with my hand to keep the vomit inside. I stared at the little girl’s hands expecting to see it covered in shit.

“A few times when we were at the park she would run up to me and say she had a present for me. She’d hold out her hand and it would be filled with cat poop she found in the sand box. Ahhhh, good times,” he said with a bob of his head.

A few times? This happened more than once? Poop finger-painting? Poop presents? Shouldn't kids be born with the knowledge that you never touch poop? Is Gavin aware that this is a rule no one should ever break?

I looked over at him rummaging through a box of books someone placed next to the reading circle and wondered if he would find poop in there and bring it to me. What if he tried to finger-paint me with it? I’d scream. And you can’t scream in the library. What do I do? WHAT DO I DO???

"So yeah, good luck with the whole father thing, dude," the man said to me as he stood up to leave.