Nate is playing with Thalia on the other side of the living room right now and I’m on the computer, half listening. But every time I tune in, I hear him, addressing her in a silly falsetto, saying things like,
Which do you like? Vodka in the morning or rum?
Fix me a bourbon, sweetie and go get my slippers.
Here, have a cigarette, Thalia…
At which point I yelled from the couch, “Nate! WHAT are you doing over there?”
“Oh,” he said, with the awkward grin of a kid caught sneaking a cookie who doesn’t actually regret it.
“We’re playing bad grandma.”