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.

And finally,

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.”