Title: A Guy Thing
Author: Cathy Miller (www.cathyswestwing.com)
Disclaimer: Not mine, no infringement intended.
Rating: Everyone
Timeline: After Santos takes office
Josh’s POV:
“It’s a rite of passage, Donna.” I insist.
“If you say so, Joshua.” Donna smirks and continues to page through the
Saturday paper.
“It is…well, for guys it is. Maybe you don’t get it because you don’t have any Y
chromosomes.” I suggest.
“Yes, I’m sure that’s it.” Donna drawls.
“You’re mocking again.” I accuse.
“NO!...Well, maybe a bit.” Donna admits.
“I’m telling you, Ben’s going to love it.” I tell her yet again. “And we’ll be gone for
a few hours, so you can rest and relax all by yourself. You should be grateful to
me, here.”
Donna rubbed her very sore back which was bothering her quite a bit now that
she was nearly 8 months pregnant.
“There is that.” Donna acknowledges as our whirling dervish comes tearing into
the kitchen.
“Is it time to go yet?” Ben asks me as he has every five minutes since he woke
up this morning.
“It’s a little early, but we can leave now and go pick up Alex.” I tell him as I scoop
my son into my arms. I was a little insulted that I wasn’t entertainment enough for
my son and that he wanted to include his friend Alex in our day, but Donna
assures me it’s normal at this age to want a peer along for everything.
“I wanna see the Mets kick butt, Daddy.” Ben proclaims.
Donna shoots me a look that says, ‘What have you been teaching our child?’. I
decide not to mention the fact that I might’ve said ‘kick ass’ last week and it’s
taken me all week to train Ben to say ‘kick butt’ instead.
“Go get your hat, kiddo, and we’ll get going.” I tell him.
“Got it!” Ben shouts gleefully and runs off to get his hat.
”I can handle two small children at a ballgame by myself, Donna.” I assure her
again and she just smiles serenely.
“You’re not alone; you’ll have the Secret Service with you.” She corrects me.
“Just for security, not for the actual, you know, taking care of the children.” I
repeat.
“You’re ‘da man’.” She says without even looking up. I think she’s a little peeved
because I said I didn’t need her note cards.
“It was nice of you to make the note cards, but since you’ve been to a grand total
of like 5 major league ball games and I’ve been to like a million, I really don’t
need your cheat sheets.”
“So you’ve said.” She replies without looking up at me.
“Donna-“
“Daddy, I found it. I gots my hat. Can we go now? Please?” My head swivels
between my son who is pulling on both my arms in his anxiousness to leave and
my wife who is studiously ignoring me. She’ll get over it once she sees I can
handle this on my own.
“You bet. Say goodbye to Mommy.” I instruct him.
“Bye Mommy. Love you.” He kisses her and gets a hug and a kiss in response.
“Bye, sweetie. Have fun and listen to your dad.” She tells him.
“I will. Let’s go. Let’s go, Daddy.” I chuckle at his enthusiasm and we’re off to get
Alex.
Alex, it should be noted, has been Ben’s best buddy and neighbor since we
moved here. His parents have become casual friends of ours and are genuinely
nice people; plus, they’re Democrats, and aside from a few parking violations are
both clean as whistles. What? So I took a look at the Secret Service report. I can’
t have Ben being influenced by just anyone.
Alex bounds into the car with one last admonition from his mother to listen and
remember his manners. By the time she’s finished her sentence. Ben and Alex
are both playing with the gadgets in the back of the Secret Service Town car. By
the time I’m done reassuring Alex’s mom that all is under control, I think the boys
have called Australia on the secure cell phone next to them.
We get to the ball park and I’m nearly as excited as they are. It’s a picture perfect
day and I can’t wait to share this experience with Ben. It’s going to be perfect.
****************************************
Donna’s POV:
I watch my men leave for the game and make a mental wager with myself. I give it
3 hours tops, before Josh brings the boys home in defeat. Maybe not even that
long. Ben loves baseball, but only because his daddy loves baseball. Watching a
game together or playing catch together is their special ‘guy time’.
I tried to write down some helpful pointers for taking two 4 year olds out on his
own, but Mr. “I run the country” turned his nose up at them. So, I’ve decided to
take advantage of the alone time and enjoy a peaceful bath before the inevitable
return of my fallen hero. Josh may have learned how to handle an op in the sit
room, but that’s nothing compared to the antics of two 4 year olds at a baseball
stadium.
As predicted, 2 hours and 52 minutes later, the front door slams open.
“Donna!” Josh shouts for me. Even his voice sounds tired. I cautiously walk into
the foyer and see Josh holding our son in his arms.
“What happened?!” I rush over and to get a closer look at Ben
“Mommy, I feel sick.” Ben whines and I turn a death glare on his father.
“Joshua, what did you give them?”
“Just ball game food.” He evades a direct answer I notice. “They kept saying how
hungry they were!”
“Come on, sweetie. Daddy will take you upstairs to lie down on our bed. I’ll get a
little Sprite to help your tummy settle.”
When I get the can of Spite with a straw up to our room, both my guys are
stretched out on top of the comforter. Ben appears to be asleep. Josh’s eyes
are half closed.
“They were like little alien children, Donna.” He moans. “They ran everywhere
and ate 4 times their body weight. They never stopped or even slowed down.”
“They are bundles of energy.” I agree. “You took Alex straight home?”
“After he threw up in the car, I thought it might be best.” Josh notes.
“Good call. Tell me, Joshua. Did it ever occur to you to say ‘no’ to any of their
requests for food?”
“Requests? Let me tell you something, Donna. The President demands things,
you and I request things, 4 year old children whine….and they don’t stop until
you give in or their whining bursts an ear drum. I’m serious!” He protests when I
start laughing. “We should send them to the UN as negotiators.”
“You have to set out expectations before you go.” I explain. “Tell them before
you get there that they can have one snack and one drink and that’s it.”
“God, the drinks!” He moans again. “For all the liquid they spilled, you’d think not
much got in their system, but some must have made it inside because they had
to pee, like every 5 minutes!” he paused. “Stop laughing, Donnatella!”
“So did you see ANY of the game?” I ask trying to keep a straight face.
“I saw a few plays on the closed circuit TV’s while we were in the concession
line, but I swear, you take your eyes off of them for a minute and they disappear.”
He tells me.
“Thank God for the Secret Service.” I deadpan.
“No shit.” He agrees. “You’re enjoying this way too much.” He accuses. “You
could at least get me some aspirin or something.”
“I did try to warn you.” I note. “I even made note cards, but you mocked them and
refused to take them along. So I have no pity for you.”
“You’re a cruel, heartless woman, Donnatella.” He put a pillow over his head.
“Daddy?” Ben pipes up from between us.
“Here, kiddo, have a sip of Sprite.” I place the straw between his lips and he sips.
“Daddy, can we go see the Mets again?” he asks.
“Sure.” Josh answers wryly. “As soon as I recover from this one.”
Ben smiles. “When my little brother gets big we can take him too.” Ben refuses
to acknowledge the unborn child might be a girl.
“You had a good time, tiger?” I ask.
“Baseball with Dad is the best!” he manages just before he throws up on the
bedspread.
Yeah, it’s a guy thing.