As I hold Scott in my arms, he giggles and squirms, wriggling free and running towards Aubrey. "Daddy!" he yells, hugging him tightly and grinning. Aubrey smiled too, picking him up and swinging him around.
I know Aubrey isn't Scott's father, that's quite impossible. But its okay. Scott's real father is only that, his father, and Aubrey is his dad. Aubrey plays with him, laughs with him, teaches him games and nursery rhymes.
Scott's real father is somewhere else, I don't know where or who. He's probably sitting in a bar somewhere, knocking back beers and watching half naked women dance, while miles away, someone else raises his son.
Aubrey is giving him a piggyback ride, stomping around the apartment, growling. "Where's Scott?" he asks as my little boy taps on his shoulder. Aubrey turns to his left, running in a circle, as if trying to catch a glance.
"Silly Daddy..." I begin, picking Scott off his shoulders, sending him over to Uncle Mik. "Scotty is right here!"
"Thank you, Mommy," he says, pecking me on the cheek. "I never would have found him without you."
"Hey! Mind the queer, sis!" Harley yells from the other end of the room. "That hetero stuff just isn't natural..."
Mik laughs, nearly dropping Scott from his knee. Aubrey blushes bright red.
"Relax Harley..."
Some people may argue Scott is a "fatherless youth," but Aubrey and I know the truth. He's just a typical, healthy three year old boy with two parents and a pair of uncles that love him, and each other.