Free The Sunday Only Christian by E. N. Joy

potty.”
    Deborah turned and looked to see her little guy standing in the doorway. He had been quietly in his room playing with his toys while Deborah got ready.
    â€œMommy’s big boy has to go potty?” she asked.
    â€œUmm hmmm.” He nodded.
    Deborah walked over to her son and scooped him up in her arms. She placed him on her hip while she cupped her arm around his bottom to keep him in place. That’s when she realized he’d already gone potty—in his underwear. “Oh, no!” Deborah shouted once she felt the moisture soaking through the sleeve of her blouse. Following that was the big “D” word with the word “it” after it. Deborah’s angry outburst startled her son and he began to cry. “Oh, Mommy is sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She sat him back down. “Mommy didn’t mean to yell.” As she began to remove her son’s clothing she whispered, “God forgive me for cursing at my baby.”
    Once Deborah got her son’s clothing off of him, she scooped him back up. He was still crying and sniffling. “Mommy’s sorry, baby boy.” Deborah’s phone rang, so holding her child in one arm, she swooped the phone up with the other. She knew it was her mother telling her she was coming around the corner and to have her grandson ready.
    â€œYes, Mother,” Deborah answered the phone without even looking at the caller ID.
    â€œI think I prefer to be called daddy,” Lynox joked with a deep voice.
    â€œOh, Lynox?” Deborah was completely caught off guard as she balanced her twitching and whining son in one hand while trying to keep the phone to her ear with the other.
    Noticing the flustered tone of Deborah’s voice, Lynox asked, “Did I catch you at a bad time? You sound a little antsy.”
    â€œOh, no, I’m just—” Deborah was cut off by the wail her son released.
    â€œIs that a kid?” Lynox asked, his tone laced with curiosity.
    Deborah looked at her son, closed her eyes, and bit her lip. She had to think fast. Once again, this was not how things were supposed to go down. Yes, she was going to tell Lynox about her son and then break things off with him, but she was going to do it face to face during dinner. But once again, Lynox had taken the lead and just messed up everything.
    â€œIt’s a kid . . . on TV,” Deborah partially lied. She looked at her son and put her index finger over her mouth while her eyes pleaded with him to stop crying. Lucky for Deborah it worked.
    â€œOh, well, I guess the televisions these day do more than just look like real life; they have a heck of a sound system, too. Anyway, I was just calling to tell you that I left my house a little early because I thought there might be traffic. But wouldn’t you know I’m making great time. So I just wanted to let you know that I might show up a little early, if that’s okay?”
    Deborah looked over at her clock. She then looked down at her son and repositioned him over her shoulder. “Uh, well, uh . . .” Think. Think. Think. Her mother was due to arrive to pick her son up, but what if Lynox got there before her? I knew I should have just dropped him off over at my mom’s and met Lynox out, Deborah scolded herself. She knew better than to have a man come pick her up at her house anyway. That was one of the first things she’d been taught in the singles ministry. It sounded good in the church classroom when she was hearing it. Now that she was at home out in the world, like she often found herself doing, she was playing by her own rules.
    â€œUmm, well uh . . .” Why did those seem to be the only words of choice Deborah could manage to come up with? “I guess it would . . .” Her words trailed off as she placed her son at her feet. She was going to tell him that she guessed it would be all right, but it wouldn’t have been.
    â€œOhhhh, I get it,