Free Leave It to Claire by Tracey Bateman Page B

five minutes late is a crime when I do it? But suddenly
     it’s okay when Rick does it? My eyes must have relayed that very question, because Greg winks at me. “There’s no one else
     on the schedule until after lunch.”
    I turn my attention back to my ex-husband. “Call me later so we can discuss your son.”
    “Oh, boy. If Shawn, of all the kids, is suddenly my son, he must have flunked something.”
    I refuse to dignify that comment with a reply. “See you around, Darcy. Don’t let him forget to call me.”
    He calls forty-five minutes later, from his cell phone on his way back to the office. I hear a certain amount of outrage in
     his voice, and I know he’s blaming me for the whole situation. “What are we going to do as a punishment?” he asks.
    First of all, Shawn has been laying low since I got home. I sent him down the street to help his grandmother pack and informed
     him I’d get back to him after I discussed his behavior with his father.
    I’ve been thinking over appropriate punishments since I read the offensive note. “I think he should definitely have to write
     a letter of apology to Ms. Clark.”
    “To say the least. What else?”
    “What do you mean? Don’t you think a letter of apology is humiliation enough?”
    “Not even close, Claire. The boy wrote a nasty note and drew a nastier picture. He sexually harassed the school secretary.”
    Okay, he may have a mild point. But good grief, had Rick noticed how the woman was dressed? “Do you have a punishment in mind?”
    “Yes. Along with the note of apology, he loses TV privileges for a month.”
    “Well, what am I supposed to do with him if he can’t watch TV?” Oh, I hate that I just blurted that out.
    “Make him read a book. Or would you prefer to let him spend the month with Darcy and I?”
    “Darcy and me,” I mutter.
    The grammatical faux pas has apparently escaped the good doctor’s notice. “If you don’t think you’re up to it, I’m willing
     to let him spend the length of his punishment at my house.”
    “No. I’ll agree to no TV for a month, with the exception of Monday-night movie night.”
    “Monday-night movie night? What’s that?”
    “I think it’s rather self-explanatory.”
    He hesitates. “Okay, I’ll agree to the Monday-night exception, as long as you promise not to cave in at the first sight of
     those big blue eyes begging you to let him watch
Fairly Odd Parents,
or some other stupid cartoon.”
    Fairly Odd Parents
is anything but stupid. But I choose not to argue that point with someone who considers the Military Channel to be entertainment.
    The part about resisting Shawn’s big blue eyes might be harder than I thought. But I know Rick is right. And if he’s trying
     to be a real dad, instead of just the fun dad for a change, who am I to thwart his efforts? “So just to make sure we’re on
     the same page, Shawn has to write a letter of apology to Ms. Clark.” I know it was my idea, but the thought of that woman’s
     smug face just makes me want to let the whole thing go. But we’re building our son’s character, not diminishing mine. “Plus
     no TV for a month, except for Monday movie night.”
    “And I think he should do some chores.”
    “Chores, too?” Sheesh, why doesn’t he just send the kid to boot camp? My palms are beginning to sweat, and I’m worrying I
     might short out the cordless. “What did you have in mind?”
    “I think he should clean out the garage and…”
    I’m staring out at my front lawn through the bay window. “Rake leaves?”
    “Okay, sounds good. No TV—”
    “Except on Mondays.”
    “Right. A letter of apology, he cleans the garage—”
    “Mine or yours?”
    “I was thinking mine. Darcy wants to have a garage sale.”
    Figures. “Fine. He can clean your garage and rake my leaves.”
    “Fine. I guess that covers his punishment, then.”
    Rick hesitates and I wait, expecting him to say good-bye. Instead, he continues, “Another thing we need to