Page 16 of Doctor’s Orders

“Your mother is very wise,” he says.

“She is the best,” Lydia says emphatically.

“Mama,” Bennett says from next to him. His sticky, syrupy hands pat my arm. “Look.” He tilts his head up. There is a blueberry shoved into each of his nostrils.

“Bennett!” I jump to my feet, but Graham is already there and carrying him into the kitchen.

“Blueberries are for your mouth, silly boy, not your nose,” Graham says with a perfectly even toned voice.

I’ve always been the picture of calm when it comes to things like this. With other people’s kids. When it comes to my own, I become a crazy lady.

“Should we take him to the hospital?” I ask. I’m circling Graham and where he has my son settled on top of the counter.

“Nah, sugar, I got this,” he says without even looking at me. “Bennett, you need to look up at my ceiling.”

My son does as he’s told.

“Can you tell me what you see up there?” While he’s asking my son this question, Graham has somehow produced an alligator—a tool we use in the office to do this very thing. Remove foreign bodies from kid’s noses and ears.

“It’s blue,” Bennett says.

“That’s right. My ceiling is blue. Isn’t that kinda silly?” Graham asks.

I exhale slowly. “Do you just carry one of those in your pocket at all times?”

He chuckles. “No. My sister has five kids. Bram has four. Seemed prudent to have a few around the house.”

“So this is not your blueberry in the nose rodeo?”

“Not by a long shot.” Graham sets the tool down and tilts my son’s face back to look at him. “How old are you Bennett?”

“Four,” Bennett says.

I scoff. “He’ll be three in a couple of months.”

“Three years old. Did you know that that’s the age when boys are too big and smart to put things in their noses?” Graham asks.

Bennett shakes his head, his eyes wide.

“It’s true. I went to college a long time to learn all about this stuff so I could take care of kids.” He leans in closer to whisper conspiratorially. “It’s also true that girls are too big and smart to put things in their noses when they’re only two and a half.”

“Oh, so girls learn it faster than boys,” I say, finally catching on to where he’s going with this.

Graham peers at me over his shoulder. “Exactly. Girls are always a little smarter than boys.”

“No,” Bennett says with a frown.

“Oh well, then you know what you can do to be as smart as a girl?” Graham says. “You have to stop putting things in your nose right now. Today has to be the last time. Think you can do that?”

“Yes, I cans,” Bennett says. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m smart.”

“Yes, you are!” Graham says. “High five, my man.”

I watch my son press his small, sticky hand to Graham’s much bigger one. And then I fall the rest of the way in love with this big, sweet, gorgeous, infuriating man.

Damn.

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