The 'G' Word

Chris and his son sat facing one another in Piper's bedroom, where they had been sent and instructed to wait until she arrived. Having recently been informed that the 32 year-old Piper had an 18 year-old grandson had created the need for much explanation, and Piper, especially when family was involved, needed everything to be obsessively clear.

Chris' initial reaction to nearly all things unexpected or unplanned was frustration and irritability. The surprise visit of one Rider Pevensie Halliwell was by no means an exception, especially since it went against the young father's specific instructions. However, when it came to Rider and Riley, Chris' fussiness tended to fizzle quickly. Any disobedience on their part was usually inspired by genuine concern for the safety and well-being of others. More often than not, said 'other' was their father.

Though Piper had intended for both the young men to explain both Rider's existence and reason for coming from the future, Chris clearly was desiring his son's absence, a concept Rider was determined to understand.

"At least let me know what you are gonna tell her." Rider pleaded.

"I'm going to tell her the truth," answered Chris, "that I hit puberty when I turned six and I got lucky in the sandbox."

"Dad, that is beyond disgusting."

"You're right; she'll never buy it." Chris replied. "I was seven and it was at the swing set."

"Dad, why do you hate me?"

"Ooh, I know! How about, you were conceived next to a microwave and the radiation sped up your growth?"

"Dad, I swear I will rip both of my ears off right now."

"I grew you in a lab?"

Rider, feeling more than a bit queezy in the tummy area, closed his eyes and started babbling to himself, attempting to drown out his father's voice. "Rider, you're not really here... You're in a log cabin... you're reading a book by a fire..."

Chris couldn't help but be amused. "Just consider yourself lucky that I didn't use visual aids."

Rider ignored him. "It's snowing outside... you're looking out the window..."

"Rider, we've talked about this."

"Oh look! A reindeer!"

"You know, it's rude to go to your 'Happy Place' in the middle of a conversation." Chris teased.

Rider snapped out of his self-imposed trance. "And I suppose discussing your copulating location is what? Polite?"

"Well, somebody's glass is 'half-empty' today." Chris observed.

"And apparently somebody hasn't passed a mirror lately." returned Rider, addressing his father's pessimistic nature.

Chris was, of course, unable to give evidence to the contrary. "Well, ya' got me there."

"What's the real reason you don't want me here when you explain everything to her?"

Chris leaned toward his son, whispering: "Well, I never told you this, but after her thirtieth birthday, your grandma got very sensitive about her age."

"Oh that's great, Dad." Rider jovially accused. "Now you're lying like a rug."

"I most certainly am not."

"What was the name of that wooden boy in the story you used to tell us?" Rider wondered aloud."You know the guy: his nose would grow when he lied? He even had a cameo in the Shrek trilogy if I remember correctly."

"Pistachio, or something like that." Chris replied.

"Dad, this has nothing to do with an acute, albeit rapidly growing, sensitivity to fine lines and wrinkles." Rider huffed. "I was not born yesterday."

"No, but close enough."

"What else ya got?" asked Rider challengingly."And you may as well abandon that whole 'age' approach because I know it's not that."

"Sure it is," Chris responded. "I once saw her blast the lady at the makeup counter for offering her samples of anti-aging cream."

"Uh huh." Rider glibly responded. "And this makeup counter; it didn't happen to be located in a place called 'Your Imagination' now did it?"

"Couldn't tell ya," Chris said coyly. "I'm a little fuzzy on the details."

"Dad, I'm sorry, but you forced my hand. I hereby invoke the sacred power of the Launch Pad." Rider declared. "Quit changing the dang subject."

"I'm not." Chris insisted in an exaggerated plea of innocence.

"Let's recap, shall we?" Rider smugly suggested. "First, we were talking about why you don't want me here when you explain me to Grandma; now you're telling me about her dark days as a makeup counter assassin."

"That's the general idea." agreed Chris.

"Only if the general idea is that you've missed the point entirely."

"So then, you think I need anti-aging cream?" asked Chris.

"I dunno." Rider answered, verbally volleying his father's serve. "Do you think I need a father who looks like he belongs in my graduating class?"

"Ouch!"

"Dad, I just don't understand why you don't want me here."

"I just think it would be better if I'm the one to explain things to her."

"Have you heard yourself explain something before?" Rider asked knowingly. "You have a tendency to leave out important details."

"I've got my reasons." Chris casually replied.

"Dad, she'll kill you if she finds out you've left something out. You know how Grandma is about stuff like that. And the Grandma that I know is the one that time has significantly mellowed."

"That's another thing!" Chris remarked. "You might wanna lighten up on the 'G' word while you're here."

"Are you trying to give me a Grandma complex?"

"Hey, I'm just thinking of you here." Chris insisted.

"Would you prefer a different letter?" asked Rider. "The 'B' word perhaps?"

"Believe it or not, in this case, the 'B' word might be less upsetting."

"That's funny," Rider observed, "I was under the distinct impression that she discouraged the using of that word."

"And now you know the truth." Chris affirmatively declared.

"I do indeed!"

"How does it feel?"

"It's a whole new world."

"I'll bet your entire life just flashed before your eyes." Chris patted his frustrated son encouragingly on the shoulder.

"Ya' know, it did." Rider playfully affirmed.

"And?"

"Why didn't we ever go to Disney World?"

"Come again?" Chris asked, a bit stunned.

"It's a commonly known fact that anytime someone sees their life flash in front of their eyes, by default, they should see at least one trip to Disney World fly by. Preferably two." Rider explained.

"I see!" Chris replied with a teasing nod. "Well, how about you orb down to the kitchen and I'll see what I can do."

"But doesn't Graaa..." Rider caught himself mid-word. "I mean, the-lady-whose-title-does-not-begin-with-the-letter-'G', get a say in this?"

"Nope!" Chris insisted. "My kid; my rules."

"But what about 'her house; her rules?" Rider innocently inquired.

"Nope!" repeated Chris. "As a father, nobody has the right to psychologically damage my child but me."

"Really?" asked Rider sarcastically.

"It's my parental right." Chris affirmed.

"I don't believe you." Rider playfully objected.

"Well, check your clues Colombo; parent trumps grandparent." Chris said, grinning and folding his arms. "Now orb down to the kitchen."

"Pleeeease tell me!" Rider whined, in one last futile attempt.

"Rider," Chris sighed, "what language do you need to hear this in, and please sign me up for the class, because whatever I'm saying clearly isn't piercing that thick skull of yours."

"Well then, Mr. Tree," Rider said as he knocked three times against his father's skull, "you outta drop your apples further away next time."

"Rider," Chris summoned his paternal voice. "downstairs, right now, or you're gonna suddenly find yourself without a speeder bike."

"Okay, you win!" Rider relented. "Just be sure you tell Grandma this was your idea."

"Done. Now scoot!"