“You have to admit something, dad.”

Admit? What am I guilty of now? My kid isn’t even baptized and he manages to hit the ‘oh my god what have I done?‘ button…courtesy of my Catholic upbringing. I’m now, thankfully lapsed. But no matter how I lapse, the button is still there.

“Ever since I got the NIntendo DS I’m not like all the time on it, like you were afraid I would. I mean we only fought that one time, remember when I was with Malcolm, yeah I’m really good at controlling myself. Admit, dad.”

There he goes again! Judeo-christian hackles raised!

Despite my ancestral discomfort I’ve got to concentrate on reacting appropriately. Must be careful. You want to encourage and be positive. But giving credit where none is due creates a precedent and eventually, you can’t tell them anything anymore because they’ve been stellar, all the time. Because that’s what you told them. Lazy parenting early on equals spoiled brats later.

“Admit dad!”

“Noah, you’re better than most that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, remember how Stelios and his sister like they both went crazy when you confiscated their games because it was supper and their Mom, I mean like they weren’t listening at all to their Mom. I’m not like that.”

“Nope.”

“I can like stop anytime I want and yeah, I’m not like, ‘can I have more time, please, please’. I don’t do that, right dad?”

“No you don’t. But it’s also because you get your fill, particularly Saturdays when I let you play all morning.”

“I’m never full, dad with video games. But when you tell me to stop, I stop.”

“But would you stop if I didn’t tell you to?”

“Sure, dad.”

“Okay, next Saturday I’ll say nothing and we’ll see.”

“You”ll see.”

Who knows he may have more self control than I do.

It’s August. We’re on the walk to his day camp and the flowers are in full bloom. We make a point of chronicling their evolution, every day. It’s also useful for changing subjects.

“Look Noah.”

“Wow.”

Morning Glories… purple, dark pink, blue explode along a vine in front of a neighbor’s door. Luscious.

“Look dad, how fat and open they are.”

I would have said fleshy and open. The flashbacks of spreading thighs and glistening arms and pouting lips threaten to submerge me. Especially since theses flowers are tended by a sweet and willing medical student. Noah finds her cute. He’s told me so. I’m finding the way to her bed. But I haven’t told him.

“Admit dad…”

Never! I’ll admit to nothing!

“… it’s amazing that like tonight when we, uhm, come back at supper time, they’re going to be all closed, like for the night. That’s when you pinch the one’s that are dead, yeah, like the girl showed us.”

Morning glory, evening delight. Pinch what’s alive, if it moans the fun can begin.

“Admit dad, that nature is awesome.”

Just then, the curtain in the window behind the flowers is drawn suddenly. There is the medical student, in morning undress. She smiles, crinkling her sleep filled eyes. Noah waves. She waves back. Her overlong t-shirt succeeds only in making her nakedness more apparent. She seems not to mind. Neither do I. I linger. She does the same.

“Dad, admit she’s cute.”

With a last wave, she moves into the penumbra of her apartment. Slowly.

“I admit, I confess.”

“What does that mean, dad? Confess.”

“When you’ve committed a crime or a sin and you admit to it.”

“Oh. What’s a sin?”

What I am about to do with the young florist, if I believe my upbringing. But sex is a sin only if it’s bad sex.That’s my new religion.

“I don’t believe that sins exist, but let me try to explain and you’ll make up your own mind.”

“Okay dad.”

“So… sins are tied to religion, which means that….”.

As I explain, my mind casts back to the wave and her erect nipples straining the cloth.

Oh yes! I confess! Yes yes, ohhhh yeeeesssss!!