I sat there on the couch trying to stop the panic attack I was pretty sure I was having. I need a paper bag to breathe into. Why the fuck didn't I bring a paper bag? Oh Jesus. Poop hands. POOP HANDS!

"Carter! Hey, Carter!" Gavin shouted as he ran towards me and several other adults shushed him.

I stared at his hands, praying to God there wasn't shit on them. How would I explain to Claire that I made our son walk home from the library because I didn't want shitty hand prints inside my car? I winced as he raced towards me, bracing myself for a shit pie to the face or a shit ball to the arm. He was running so fast he couldn't stop himself in time and he slammed into my legs with an "Oomph."

Oh fuck, please let there not be shit on my legs right now.

As soon as he hit my legs, he scrambled up onto my lap, careful not to drop whatever was clutched in his hand. One can never be too careful with a handful of shit, obviously.

He put his knees on my thighs and I felt him crawl up onto my lap. My eyes were squeezed so tightly closed that I was giving myself a headache.

Oh sweet Jesus. Here it comes. A shit sandwich. He's going to make me pretend to eat it like kids do when they make you a Play-Doh cookie. The term "shiteating grin" will finally have meaning in my life.

"I got you sumfin' Carter. Guess which hand?" he said excitedly.

Oh, God, please don't make me choose. It will always be the hand without shit in it.

Gavin quickly grew impatient with my silence. "Come on, Carter, open your eyes. Don't be a wuss."

I swallowed nervously, trying to think of all the ways to disinfect shit from your skin.

Does bleach burn? Probably after I took a layer of skin off with sandpaper, it would. I slowly opened one eye at a time until I could see that Gavin had his arms behind his back.

“Come on, pick one of my arms and see what I gots,” he said excitedly.

"Gee, I guess I'll pick that hand," I said unenthusiastically as I tapped his right arm.

Good-bye clean, shitless skin. I'll remember you fondly.

Gavin bounced up and down on my thighs and swung his right arm around in front of him.

"You picked the right one! Here ya go!" he said excitedly.

I looked down nervously and breathed a deep sigh of relief when I saw what was in his hand.

A book. A beautiful, crisp, brand new library book. Not a book covered in shit, or a book made out of shit. Just a book. The title read “Come on Get Happy!”

I took it from his little hand and held it up in the air to look at the picture of puppies frolicking in a field on the front cover.

"This is a pretty awesome book. How come you picked this one?" I asked him as he put the hand that used to hold the book up on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.

"Because I like you. And Mommy says it’s nice to do things that make people happy. I want you to be happy."

All I could do was sit there and stare at him. I got it now. I got why Claire hadn't crumbled when she found out she was pregnant, why she dropped out of college and gave up everything for this little boy. I suddenly realized that my heart was sitting there on my lap and even though I wasn't here for the first four years of his life, I loved him unconditionally simply because he was mine. He was a part of me. I knew without a doubt, I would give my life to make sure he was safe. I wrapped my arms around his little body, hoping he didn't still think of me as a stranger and would let me hug him.

He leaned into me without hesitation and I rested my forehead against his.

"Buddy, I am already the happiest guy in the world," I told him softly.

Gavin stared at me for a few minutes and then pulled his other arm out from behind his back. “Good, then after you read that one, you can read this one.

I pulled away from him and glanced down in his hand at a book titled “The Vagina Monologues”.

***

After we left the library, I took Gavin to get ice cream and then we headed back to Claire’s house. True to form, Gavin talked the whole way home and I started to wonder if he was like a record player that was skipping and maybe I needed to smack the side of him to get him to stop.

I resisted the urge. Barely.

When we got back to the house, I sat down on the couch and Gavin grabbed a photo album from one of the end table drawers and curled up on my lap with it. He flipped through all of the pages, explaining each picture to me. I saw every single birthday, Christmas, Halloween and everything in between that I missed, and with Gavin's commentary about each event, it almost felt like I had been there.

I also learned quite a few things about Claire. Like the fact she has cousin she can't stand.

"That's Heather. She's mommy's cousin. Mommy says she's a whore," Gavin said, pointing at the group photo that looked like it was taken at some sort of family reunion.

I also learned that Gavin seemed to have a penchant for squirting things all over the house, showcased by at least five pages in the photo album. I guess I should have taken a picture of the toothpaste incident a few weeks ago.

"Gavin, how come there are so many pictures of you making messes?" I asked as I flipped to the next page that showed a picture of him sitting on the kitchen floor in a pile of coffee grounds, cereal, oatmeal and what looked like syrup. "I hope you cleaned up all this stuff for mommy."

"Cleaning is ridiculous," he replied.

Considering the current state of my own home, I couldn't really argue that fact.

We continued to look at the rest of the pictures in that album and four others before I noticed that Gavin was unusually quiet on my lap. I glanced down and saw that he had fallen asleep sitting up. I awkwardly scooped my hands under his legs and carried him to his room exactly how he fell asleep - with his back against my chest and his legs dangling down off of my hands. I knew there was some sort of rule about "never wake a sleeping baby" and I figured that had to apply to toddlers as well since they could get into much more trouble than a baby.

After getting him tucked into bed, I came back out into the living room and relaxed on the couch. I turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until I found something to watch. An hour later, right when I started to doze off, my phone buzzed for probably the tenth time since I left the house earlier with Gavin. I smiled as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, knowing it would be Claire again.

How's it going? Is everything ok? ~ Claire

I couldn't even be offended that she was so worried. It was understandable. Surprisingly, being alone with Gavin wasn't bad at all. He was really well behaved, better than any child I had ever been around.

Perfect. Gavin just got his first lap dance. He’s hopped up on Red Bull and

crack right now and I found out he doesn't like whiskey. ~Carter

I laughed to myself and hit send. My phone buzzed immediately with her reply, like I knew it would.

I hope you at least sprang for the hot chick and not some butter face with VD.

And your son prefers vodka, like his mother. ~Claire

My laugh at her reply was so loud I glanced down the hall to make sure it didn't wake Gavin. I quickly typed a reply back. Even though she made a joke, I knew without a doubt she was masking a tiny bit of fear.

Everything is fine, Mom. Same as it was five minutes ago when you asked ;) ~Carter

My phone buzzed not five seconds later.

Oh shut up! It's not him I'm worried about. I was afraid you were duct taped to

a chair or had your head shaved by now. ~Claire