Kids Will Drive You Crazy (With Some, It's Just A Short Putt)

"Autopsy, Dr. Mallard speaking."

"Ducky. My darling. My angel. My beloved. Would you pick up dinner on the way home?"

"I suppose," he laughed. "What would you like? And, more to the point… why take out?"

"Well—you know the old joke of, 'hey, mom, the airbags work!' being the comment you really don't want to hear from your kid? Well, you don't want your spouse to say, 'glad you put the new fire extinguisher in the kitchen.'"

He gasped. "What happened?"

"Remember the roasted chicken and veggies from yesterday? When I took out the pan, it wobbled, and a bunch of juice and grease slopped out. I forgot to clean it last night—I put the stove on preheat without looking, and—"

"Grease fire in the oven. Did anyone get hurt?"

"Not a bit. The stove is even okay. I think. But clean up will be a pain, no way can I make pot pie—"

"I'll be glad to pick up dinner. Chinese?"

"Love it. Love you. Back to work I go…"

I hung up the phone and blew out a breath. Good thing I had been in the kitchen; if I had gone downstairs and started laundry, as I had planned to do… Shudder. Lexi had been sitting at the kitchen table, happily coloring away, and hadn't even turned a hair at the whoosh of flames in the oven. I had grabbed the extinguisher and coated the oven before realizing she was still in the room.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Why do you caw Daddy 'Ducky?'"

"Because that's his name."

"Then why does Grandma caw him Donowd?"

The back door opened and Charlie came in. "Hi, Lex, hi, Aunt Sandy."

"Auntie Charwie!"

"Hey, Imp. Where's your mom?"

"Heading to the market. She forgot dessert at home." She sighed dramatically. "I have a hideous amount of homework. Perhaps Uncle Ducky should hook me to an I.V. so I don't waste any time eating."

"He's bringing home Chinese…"

"Oh. Well. I guess a break would be beneficial…"

I grinned and started scrubbing at the mess in the stove.

"Mommy? You never answered me!"

"Hunh? Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie." I had to think for a minute. "Oh. Um. Well, Grandma calls Daddy Donald because that's his given name. I call him Ducky, because that's his nickname. Like your given name is Alexandra, but you like to be called Lexi."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you caw him Ducky?"

"I told you. That's his nickname. He likes to be called Ducky."

"But why is Donowd Ducky?"

"Oh. Well, our last name is Mallard. Among other things, a mallard is a type of duck. And you know Donald Duck, the cartoon?" She nodded. "So. Donald Duck. Donald Mallard. Ducky."

"Why?"

"Because… it's just a nickname."

"Why?"

"Because people thought it was funny."

"Why?"

"Because… sometimes people tease you about your name." Which is why we didn't name you totally after your grandmother—Alexandria would be as bad as naming you Bethesda. Alexandra is, at least, one step removed.

"Why?"

"Because… sometimes they're trying to be mean. Sometimes they're trying to be funny."

"Why?"

"Because—because they just are."

"What are you doing?"

Change of topic. Thank god. "Cleaning the stove."

"Why?"

"Because—" I stopped and edited my comments. Carefully. "Because there was a little fire earlier, and there's a bit of a mess."

"Why?"

"Because the chemicals in the fire extinguisher leave a residue behind." I tried not to sound too irritated. A three-year-old can 'why?' you to death.

"Why was there a fire?"

"Last night some of the grease from the chicken spilled. Grease is flammable—that means it can catch fire. I forgot to clean up."

"Why?"

"Because I was doing twenty things at the same time and I forgot." So, sue me, I refrained from adding.

"Why?"

"Why was I doing twenty things at once?" I ground my teeth and scrubbed harder at the floor of the oven. "Because they all have to be done, if you don't do them when they need to be done they either pile up or get forgotten—and then this happens—and there are only twenty-four hours in a day!"

"Why?"

I wanted to grab the phone and call my mother. 'Mom? Thank you for letting me live to see five.' "Because that's how long it takes the Earth to go around the sun." Okay? Okay. Don't ask me any more. Do I look like Carl Sagan?

There was a rustle at the table and a whisper I didn't catch. "Mommy?" she asked cautiously.

I stopped scrubbing. "Yes?" I tried not to sound guarded. Or pissed off. It's not her fault she's three. It's not her fault she's curious. Would you rather have a dullard?

"Wherefore?"

I winced and let my head fall forward to rest on the front edge of the stove. "Charlie…!"

Twin giggles were my only response.