Chapter 9 Monday #2
I think of Ava’s mom’s concerns and wonder how she’ll handle all of this on the home front. I don’t envy her.
I nod. “That sounds more than fair.”
While Cheryl and Ava went over appropriate versus inappropriate times to role-play giving birth, I welcomed Finn and his class to pre-K, and gave them a quick lay of the land.
Most of the fourth graders were quick to join the pretend play area, where, much to Finn’s confusion, they are currently lying on the floor receiving ultrasounds from Charlie.
Behind them I see Harry, our youngest, swiftly remove his hands from his pants, pick up a block, and put it in his mouth.
Finn must have seen the same thing. “This hardly seems like a sterile enough place to give birth, anyway,” he says with a smirk, and I giggle.
He’s funny.
I follow Finn’s curious gaze as he watches the pregnant kids in the pretend play area.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to tell the kids they can’t be pregnant at all if it’s causing problems?” he asks.
Cheryl gives me a wink and walks over to the reading nook, pretending to be busy by arranging the books.
“That definitely would be easier,” I agree. “But kids learn and make sense of things through play, and Ava has a new baby at home, so she probably has a lot to process.”
Finn nods, and, while raising a toned arm to push back his hair, looks at me with an intensity that makes me squirm. “I wish you had been my teacher.”
I look down at my feet reflexively. Having been distracted by Finn’s charm, I’m surprised to see one of the kids, Danny, reaching up to tug on my pant leg.
“Teacher Phoebe?” he asks, looking up at me inquisitively.
I crouch down so we’re face-to-face, and Finn joins me. He leans in to show Danny that he’s listening. A natural instinct of a good teacher, I think. The three of us form a huddle that’s so tight, Finn’s and my arms smoosh together. His skin is soft and warm. I keep very still.
Danny, with his bright eyes and missing front tooth, looks at both of us as he asks, “Ava said that her dad put a baby in her mom’s belly. How did he do that?”
I hear Finn suck in a breath next to me, and from the corner of my eye, I can see him biting down on his lip to stifle a laugh.
I turn toward him and smile, grateful for his sense of humor.
I’ve gotten so used to this question over the years that my answer is practically scripted.
“That’s a good question, Danny,” I tell him.
“That is something that your mom or dad will probably want to answer, so you can ask them when you see them.”
I’ll have to send the email out later today—the one that alerts parents that their kids have become curious about where babies come from, with some resources attached on how to best have that conversation with young children.
Danny looks at Finn expectantly, seemingly unsatisfied with my answer.
“What she said,” Finn tells him, and he gives my shoulder a gentle pat.
This doesn’t go unnoticed by Danny (or me), and he points his little finger at Finn and asks, “Are you going to put a baby inside Teacher Phoebe?”
Before I can stop it, my hand shoots up to cover my open mouth.
I can’t look over at Finn, because if I make eye contact with him, I think I’ll roll over and die of embarrassment right here on the alphabet rug.
I stare at Danny, who’s still waiting for an answer from Finn, while I kneel in stunned silence and wait for someone to say something.
“Umm,” Finn finally speaks. “Teacher Phoebe and I aren’t married,” he says.
Technically, this goes against what we teach about all families looking different, but now is not the time to be nitpicky. I look at Danny, smile, and nod.
Danny looks back and forth between us, poised to ask another question. Children’s innate curiosity is something that I’ve always admired, but in this moment, it’s my least favorite thing about them.
“Do you want to get married to each other?” Danny asks.
Again, I find myself completely speechless, floundering like an idiot, and I want to kick myself for looking so clueless in front of Finn.
After letting Danny’s question hang in the air for a beat too long, I finally will myself to look over at Finn, and am surprised to see that he looks completely unfazed.
His posture is relaxed, and he’s looking at Danny with a casual expression that suggests this is a normal, everyday conversation.
“Well, Teacher Phoebe and I just met,” he tells Danny. That’s not a no, I think to myself. “Usually, people get to know each other for a while longer before they decide to get married.”
Brilliant.
I offer a weak “Yup” in agreement, and Danny finally, either satisfied or disinterested, turns around to go join his friends. When he’s out of earshot, I push myself up off the floor, wipe my hands on my jeans, and tell Finn, “I’m so sorry.”
“Are you kidding?” He shoots up from the floor with the ease of someone who definitely works out, and I try not to picture him at the gym. “They’re a riot,” he says through a smile.
“You were so good with Danny just now,” I tell him. “That was a tough one, and you handled it like a pro.”
He flashes me that toothy smile I’ve become obsessed with.
“That’s thanks to my new thought process, ‘What would Phoebe say?’ It works like a charm. I think my kids might actually respect me now,” he says proudly.
“That’s amazing!” I lift my hand to give him a high five, and he grips my hand tightly. I didn’t even know I had hairs on my knuckles until I feel them stand.
Cheryl approaches from behind me, a glimmer of pride in her eye.
“What are we woo-hooing about over here?” she asks.
Finn tells Cheryl about his “What would Phoebe say?” mindset, during which I have to avoid eye contact with her because I know our expressions would give us away in less than a second.
“This is cause for celebration,” she says, and now that Finn’s done his spiel, I turn to look at her. I don’t like the smirk that’s spread across her face.
She’s up to something.
“Phoebe, do you and your friends still do trivia at that bar on Mondays? Jeffery’s, right?” she asks.
My stomach drops.
“Oh, I live right by there!” Finn chimes in. That means he lives right by me. “I’ve always wanted to check that spot out.” Both he and Cheryl are looking at me expectantly, waiting for an invitation that I’ve been coerced into extending.
I try to feign genuine excitement, when in reality the thought of Finn meeting everyone at Jeffery’s tonight has increased my heart rate to at least three times its normal speed.
“You should come tonight,” I tell him. “And bring friends!” I add. “We could use all the extra brainpower we can get,” I lie.
We win trivia every week without much of a challenge, but there’s no way I’m going to be responsible for entertaining a solo Finn tonight. That’s too close to a date. And I’m still working my way up to that.
“I’d love to,” he says. “I’ll bring my roommate. What time should I meet you?”
“Come around six,” I tell him, and I try to match his excitement, but all I’m thinking about is how soon I can get myself to the bathroom to practice my deep breathing and splash some cold water on my face.
“It’s a date!” he says.
No, I think to myself, keeping a smile plastered on my face as I wipe the sweat from my palms onto my T-shirt.
It’s not.