"Jack, please get down from there," Nancy Bauer begged for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.
Jack, from his position atop the white Formica kitchen counter, let go of the cabinet door he'd been using as leverage and peered over his shoulder at his mother's worry-lined face. Nancy could see the begrudging acceptance in his expression, the realization that he'd been caught and had no choice but to comply, but the spark of willfulness still shone in his eyes. "No help," he said firmly, giving his mother a determined glare that reminded her for a moment of Phillip. Then, with his back still to her, he planted his hands on the counter and, with the ease and poise of an Olympic gymnast having just finished a well-practiced routine, clambered back into the chair he'd used as a stepstool, then hoisted himself down to the floor.
Nancy sighed, letting out the breath she'd unwittingly been holding. No matter how many times her son successfully pulled off these kinds of stunts, it never got any less terrifying to watch him do so. Earlier today, she'd been close to tears after seeing him propel himself off the mattress in his bedroom, grab in mid-air onto the knobs on either side of the door, and swing on it like a monkey. The same child-proofing techniques that had worked like a charm on Graem were only minor nuisances to Jack. She knew she shouldn't compare her two sons, but she hadn't realized what an easy kid Graem had been until Jack came along. And her joint pain and fatigue was only getting worse with every passing month. Every day, she prayed to God for the strength to keep up with her son, and every day she barely managed to keep him from injuring himself beyond the scraped knees and bruised elbows that had seemingly become a permanent part of his appearance.
Nancy was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door. Immediately, the atmosphere in the house changed. It reminded Nancy the way she always felt when she arrived at a new doctor's office or hospital: there was the promise of relief, but something about the sterile scent and unfamiliar faces filled her with apprehension.
She had to admit, she couldn't have handled the kids without Phillip. Late in the evening was when her symptoms were at their worst, and also when Graem needed the most help and when Jack was at his rowdiest. So Phillip always handled bedtime, and he handled it with the disciplined efficiency of a drill sergeant. It was that very strictness, though, that caused most of the arguments that tended to fill the night air at the Bauer house. Phillip was so harsh on the boys, almost cold, and combined with how little time he spent with them because he was always busy working, Nancy worried about the relationship they would grow up to have with their father.
Nancy saw both of her sons fidget as their father's overpowering presence filled the room. They seemed not to know quite what to do with their hands or feet; their hellos were mumbled awkwardly, as though they were afraid of saying something wrong.
"Jack, your shirt's inside out," Phillip observed flatly, offering no greeting.
"I know," Jack replied, tracing the seam of his shirt with his finger to prove his understanding.
Phillip's eyebrows shot up. Whatever answer he'd been expecting, that surely wasn't it. "Well, why don't you fix it?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders. "I like it." He began to toy with the seam again.
"It doesn't matter that you like it," Phillip chastised, an edge beginning to creep into his voice. "That's simply not how you wear a shirt. The seams go on the inside." He rolled up his own sleeve to prove his point. "Now go put it on properly."
"Why?"
They could have heard a pin drop in the short silence that followed. Graem shifted nervously from one foot to the other, while Nancy searched for the right words to diffuse the situation.
"Because I'm your father, and I told you to." Phillip's voice was low now, almost menacing, and Nancy feared he might snap at any moment.
Jack crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't wanna."
"That's it." Phillip slammed his briefcase down onto the small dresser near the door, the sound echoing around the high walls of the entryway. Graem shuffled back a few steps, while Jack stood his ground. Nancy was caught in the middle. On the one hand, she and Phillip had always talked about the importance of presenting a united front, and it was true that Jack should have shown more respect. But on the other hand, she had the sense that Phillip was going to make a bigger fuss out of this than it warranted — especially considering Jack's age.
"Go to your room," Phillip ordered Jack tersely. "I need to talk to your mother, and then I'll come up there and deal with you. And you had better be wearing your shirt properly when I get there!"
For a moment, Nancy was afraid Jack would resist, making an even bigger scene by refusing his father's instructions. But after a few tense seconds, he turned and trudged slowly up the stairs.
"You go to your room, too, Graem," Phillip commanded, slightly less forcefully. When he and Nancy were alone, Phillip motioned her into the living room. "How could you let him walk around like that?" he hissed sharply.
Nancy lowered herself into an armchair, wincing at the aches in her body. "You know how it is with Jack," she lamented. "He wants to do everything himself, and he's so stubborn — he gets upset if I try to help him." Phillip rubbed his forehead, starting to pace around the room. Nancy, beginning to feel like a child who had been called to the principal's office, continued, trying to make her husband understand. "Remember when he was first learning to walk? How if I tried to catch him he would fall on purpose and then wouldn't get back up until I took a few steps back?" Not that you would, she thought a little bitterly, because you spent most of that month rubbing elbows with that man from PetroMax instead of watching your son take his first steps. "Well, now that he can string a few words together, he's even more insistent." She considered lightening the mood with a joke about the apple not falling far from the tree, but she decided against it; there was no way of knowing whether Phillip would take it the wrong way.
"It sounds to me," Phillip drawled, loosening the knot in his tie, "like you're just giving him whatever he wants so he stays happy."
"I'm not trying to spoil him!" Nancy caught the warning in Phillip's eyes and quickly switched to a whisper, the better to hide this latest argument from the kids. "You don't know what it's like. He hasn't quite mastered turning his shirt right side out yet, and if I try to step in he gets so frustrated with himself, like he thinks there's something wrong with him. So he decided he likes it better with the seams on the outside. And I'm already fighting him on so many other things, I decided wearing his shirt wrong just wasn't a battle worth fighting."
"Not worth fighting?" Phillip stopped pacing and stared at Nancy in mock disbelief. "You think it's perfectly fine for our children to parade around with their shirts inside out like barbarians? How do you think that makes us look?"
Nancy pinched her nose between her thumb and forefinger, a wave of exhaustion suddenly coming over her. She wanted to explain how ridiculous Phillip was being, but the words were all swirling together in her brain and her head was starting to ache.
"You know what I think?" Phillip continued, as Nancy met his gaze tiredly. "I think you just can't handle him."
"What do you mean I can't handle him?" Once again, Nancy's volume rose higher than she had been intending, but she couldn't help it; Phillip's accusation stung.
Phillip let out an exaggerated sigh. "Nancy, you're not feeling well." What should have been words of empathy came out sounding hollow and condescending. "I get it. Jack's not like Graem. He's smarter, he's stronger, and because of that he needs to be taught that he's not in charge. Forcefully."
Nancy bristled, not liking Phillip's choice of words. "What do you mean, forcefully?"
"I mean none of this Benjamin Spock, hippie-dippie claptrap. If you don't have the energy or the heart to discipline him, then we need to send him to someone who will. A daycare. Somewhere they're not afraid to put him in his place."
"Phillip," Nancy began, but then she thought about it for a moment. Sending Jack to daycare wasn't such a terrible idea. Of course she'd miss her little boy, but in her condition she didn't know how much longer she'd be able to keep up with him. Only for a while, she told herself. Only until he's past the terrible twos. "You know what? All right. If you think… if I… fine, let's just try a few days of daycare and see where it goes, okay?"
Phillip's eyes glinted, the way they always did when he'd gotten his way. She used to find it charming. "It's settled, then," he declared, heading for the stairs — presumably to discipline Jack.
"Phillip?" The last syllable was hissed as a sudden pain seared through Nancy's shoulder, but she knew better than to omit it; her husband had gotten angry the one time she'd called him Phil. He looked at her with a mixture of confusion and interest. "Are you going to punish him?" Nancy whispered.
Phillip's tone was steely. "He talked back to me. What am I supposed to do, give him a prize?"
Nancy shook her head. "Just don't be too hard on him, okay? He's only two."
Phillip scoffed. "That's no excuse for disobeying his father. When Graem was that age, he listened to me."
Nancy thought about explaining that the two boys were different, and that it was silly not to treat them as such, but exhaustion won over. She closed her eyes; maybe she'd nap here while Phillip got the kids ready for bed. "Just please be reasonable."
"I will." Nancy heard the thuds of Phillip's wing-tipped footsteps as he retreated. But as she fell asleep, drained by her long day and her ailing body, she wished she'd married a kinder, gentler man.
So began a chaotic few months in the Bauer household. It seemed that every day, Nancy was driving Jack to a new daycare. None were good enough for Phillip. The large centers had too many toys and bright colors; the church groups were too focused on religion over academics; the smaller home-based services didn't have enough proven credentials. The constant change seemed to make Jack even more stubborn, more set in his ways, as though clinging to any control he had over his unstable world.
One day, Phillip came home from work with an option he seemed to like more than the rest: a Russian Orthodox church in West Hollywood. "Those people know discipline," he kept saying, "and they know success."
Nancy was concerned. "But we could be on the verge of war with the Soviets," she worried. "Do we really want to…"
"Exactly," Phillip crowed. "What if the Soviets win? We have to be smart, Nancy; we have to play both sides. It's the only way to make sure that no matter what happens, we come out on top." The way he emphasized we, Nancy could have sworn he really meant I.
When Nancy found herself making the long drive to West Hollywood, she was prepared for the worst. Any school recommended by Phillip had to be soulless and draconian. But she was pleasantly surprised. She liked the illustrated children's bibles, the hot, healthy meals the children were fed, the kind owners who assured her that Jack would pick up Russian in no time. Most of all, the kids seemed well-behaved but happy, not scared of what would happen if they stepped out of line. It was a surprisingly good fit. Nancy signed the forms that same day over a hot cup of tea that the elderly church organist assured her was magical for the joints.
Phillip took great interest in Jack's life at daycare, often picking him up after work even though it meant leaving the office earlier than he normally would. Nancy was glad to have him do it. It meant she didn't have to go through the long process of loading Graem into the car and navigating the rush hour traffic. And besides, she hated the way the other parents whispered to each other in Russian when she was around. She was sure they were gossiping about the new American kid who was nothing but trouble.
She didn't find out until years later that one of the kids in Jack's daycare class was the son of the CEO of Atlas Petroleum, Inc. Somehow, she wasn't surprised.