“But dad, there’s a 13th like every month, so, yeah, it’s like, no big thing.”
“Yeah, but it rarely falls on Friday, maybe once, twice a year.”
I can tell he has no idea how that can happen. But he doesn’t seem to want further explanation, and I’m relieved. Explaining the calendar’s odd numerology is beyond my ability. I mean, 7 days in a week, 30 or 31 or 28, but sometimes 29 days in a month and 365 1/4 in a year. Nothing divides into anything easily.
And its already 35 degrees (95F) in the shade, at 8 a.m. So, the least effort is the best effort. Walking him to camp is going to be investment enough.
“Friday 13th, you know, the movie? Yeah, it’s not even scary.”
“They’ve become more of a joke. But the first one was really pretty scary.”
Because we’re in the sunlight in public. How would he feel late at night in the dark?
I slow down for a few paces and slip behind him. I lean in and whisper in what feels to me like a foreboding voice.
“You know that the movie is a documentary.”
He tries to swat me away.
“It’s all true.”
“Dad, I’m not like four years old anymore. I mean, you know, the guy wears a mask like the one they put on the guys in prison so they don’t eat each other. So, yeah, it’s a joke.”
“Yeah, well, just beware if you hear the sound of a chainsaw.”
Just then, violent sirens start howling not far from us. Noah jumps.
“A first chainsaw attack.”
I extend my arm and make a loud buzzing noise as I charge for his neck for immediate decapitation.
He punches me in the stomach. I double up.
“That’s just your arm, dad… not even scary!”
Since I’m doubled up, clutching my gut, I’m at his height. So I do the obvious thing. I roar in his face and grab him for a Freddy Krueger-style tickle attack. He yells really loudly and fights back with claws extended while yelping with pleasure.
A true Ultimate Fight ensues, complete with wailing sirens and slack-jawed spectators, poised to dial 911.
Finally he falls in a heap on the ground, choking in laughter.
“Uncle, uncle, uuuuuuunnnnccccclllle.”
I relent. He picks himself up, sighing in exhausted mirth. He wipes his dripping nose with his forearm, then looks at me. He’s hoping I didn’t see so that he can wipe his snot on me. I glare, he smiles.
I start walking, he follows a half step behind.
“Dad? Are there like any horror movies coming out because it’s like Friday the 13th?”
“Don’t think so.”
‘Ice-Age 4 is out today, I’m excited to see it, Yeah, you know I saw a trailer and there are new recruits to the gang and yeah, it’s about Manny finding his dad. Because you know at the beginning he’s all alone. Yeah.”
Silence. One step, two…
“Funny, huhn dad? The way that in movies, especially in movies for kids, there’s like always someone who has no Father and is looking for him. You know? Like in Spiderman. Why’s that dad?”
It’s now 100F if not 1000F so, I go for the easy road.
“Because you pretty much know who your mom is because….”
“…yeah, yeah, because she’s big and pregnant for like a long time and then you pop out, I mean…” He chortles. “…I mean you can’t make a mistake like you popped out of the woman next door. Haha.”
“Dad, how do you know I’m like your son?”
“Genetics, my boy. In your appearance, your behavior you’re obviously my son. And science and DNA proves it.”
“Ah, okay. Cool.”
“Awesome cool, you mean.”
He has crooked smile. I follow suit. We know things.