While Dylan was a curious kid, he was pretty accepting. When he’d asked who the fancy model type was in the kitchen and I’d made up some story about assistant slash personal trainer slash au pair, he’d accepted it at face value and wandered off to finish homework. It made me wonder if I’d ever been so easy going and accepting. Later that night we were discussing Drew's new role in our lives. Yes, Dylan still had to pick his own dirty underwear up off of the floor. I stressed (perhaps a little too vehemently) that Drew was not my boyfriend, and that just because we had a man living in the house did not mean he had to rush to tell his Dad. Overboard? Probably. His left eye had scrunched up with a look that clearly stated he thought his dear-ol'-mom had gone off the deep end. “Whatever,” was the response I’d been given before he went back to playing his latest videogame. I noticed a few days later that small changes were already happening around the house, even though Drew had only been with us for a short while. Dylan had accepted him pretty quickly and was responding well to the new male authority. Right now they were in the living room working on math homework. It was kind of nice having someone around who'd been alive when mathematical theorems were invented.
