“Not a drop,” I sighed.
“Don’t sweat it. Just keep his bottoms off and let him free ball around this bitch. The first time he feels piss on them legs, he’ll be begging for the toilet.”
“I am not about to let my son soil himself or the apartment. Won’t that fu— I mean, toy with his self-esteem or some shi—thing… I mean—something?”
I loved being a father. It was the best thing for me. It was my best accomplishment and I’d recently started viewing it as my best investment. Jordan was my everything. Yet the most difficult challenge of parenting was protecting him from myself. I didn’t want my vices to rub off on or influence him. He was so young, pure, and…a damn sponge. He picked up on words and cues quickly, and would often mimic them. Oddly, he’s the only being, second to his mother—who I rarely see—who can sense my ill-disposition and turn it around with mere interaction. Jordan does it without words. He simply loves all the bullshit away. So, my language, hell yeah, it was something I tried to curb in his presence.
“Hell if I know. That’s just some shit—”
“Hey!” I snapped while JR was midair being lifted from the toilet.
“Damn! My bad, godson. I’mma get it together for you. Although I don’t know why I have to.” He was now speaking to me. “He’s gonna be one of us, rolling with us wherever we go soon as he done with them damn diapers.”
“I don’t know about all of that. He’s going to be who and what he wants to be.” I counter Alton then level my eyes with Jordan’s. “You may be an engineer with swag, right, man?”
“Ain’t no such thing as a damn engineer with swag. Show me one of ‘em and I’ll show you a nun that don’t stroke herself to get off.”
My eyes shoot over to him.
“What?” he asks, eyes as big as saucers as he has no clue of what he’s done. “Wanna put some stacks on it?”
Just then, my phone rang. I waited until Jordan’s shorts were pulled up and he was on his feet, running out into his playroom to grab my phone. It was Ezra.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Rogers. I wanted to reach out to remind you about our session this afternoon. I’d really like to improve on the frequency of our talks.”
I exhaled. I’d been shitty at keeping up with our assigned session, and not because I didn’t take them seriously.
“I’m actually waiting on my sitter to arrive now and take over with my son so I can head out to the City. I’m looking forward to our appointment, Ezra.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I will see you later.”
We ended the call, and I headed out to the playroom. Jordan was busy with building blocks, his latest fascination. Alton was in the other corner, lounging in the glider while watching ET Entertainment Tonight.
“Yo, Mary Hart can get it! I saw her a few months ago in L.A. at an event. She was with some stiff looking dude, but you know she was checking your boy out. When we were introduced, I had her ass clawing at my arm while cracking up. She want the D,” he so eloquently shared while his eyes stayed glued to the screen.
I squatted next to Jordan on the floor and gathered a few blocks of my own.
“Yirp! JR, look at your twin on TV, bro,” Alton shouted to Jordan, whose head popped up, but within seconds went back to his building.
My eyes jetted over to the screen and I saw a clip of Erika and me leaving Mr. Chows in New York City last night, being swarmed by paparazzo. Damn, they don’t miss shit. I rolled my eyes, recalling my argument in not wanting to go there in the first place. Of course, paps are going to be at Mr. Chows. But that’s what Erika wanted. She loved the attention. Thrived on the public knowing her every move. I hated that shit.