“If I was a boy, this is how I would impress the girls.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Kallan turns and flaps a slice of cheese in the air, “This, Mom. Girls are impressed with a boy who can cut the cheese.”
“I know you did not just say that.”
“Mom! A little maturity, please! I am not talking about farting! No, I am talking about this!” She carefully slices another piece of cheese and flaps it in the air between us, “See? The girls would love me.”
“Because you would offer them cheese?”
“Perfectly sliced cheese. Girls like boys with knife skills.”
“Who told you that?”
“It’s so obvious, Mom. I offer a girl a translucent slice of cheese, she is going to be wildly impressed.”
“It’s probably just as well you won’t be dating for a few more years, babe.”
Kallan ignores me and turns back to her slicing, “Translucency . . . that’s where the cheese magic happens.”
“The cheese magic?”
“You act like you have never heard of the translucent cheese magic before. Girls are weak for translucent cheese magic. Everybody knows that.”
“Seriously, babe. We should probably sit down and have a little talk about . . . stuff.”
She ignores me again and stacks up several perfectly cut slices of cheese, “Yup, if I was a boy I would be way popular.” She reaches up into the cupboard and takes down a bag of mini-marshmallows, “Being a girl is more complicated, although because I know what’s up, I will know to be on my guard when translucent cheese is on the table.”
“OK, first? You are a crazy person. Second? You are having cheese and marshmallows?”
She waves me off, “It’s snacktime, Mom. You never pack me a good snack, but today I am home from school and Maj is not, and so I am having the perfect snack.” She walks to the refrigerator and pulls out a container of egg-nog. Pours herself a glass.
“Seriously?”
“Mom, focus on your pride that I can make my own snack and look away from the snack itself.”
“I do not even want to hear from you when your tummy hurts later.”
She sips at the eggnog and throws a few marshmallows into her mouth, “I’ll be fine. Besides, this way I can show you my manly flirting skills.”
“Whatever, babe. Eat your snack of tummy-doom. I am going upstairs to put some laundry away.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Just a few minutes later, she appears beside me as I fold the clothes. She extends a single pointer finger, to which she has stuck a mini-marshmallow. The marshmallow is a hat for a tiny man named George. I know this because she says, “Hello, beautiful. My name is George.”
I have mentioned before that Kallan is quite skilled at accents and voices. She has a very good friend who moved here from Italy several years ago, and Kallan has spent enough time with her friend and her friend’s family to have picked up their speaking style. I do not have the ability to capture Kallan’s Italian accent here, but it is sophisticated and smooth and charming and very very male.
“Hello, beautiful. My name is George.”
“Kallan, do not get your sticky hands all over the bed.”
“Who is this Kallan? Such a beautiful name . . . you must introduce me to this creature. But not right this moment. At this moment, I must know your name, sweet one.”
“Seriously?”
“What an odd and musical name! Siryusslee. It is as unique as the freckles on your lovely face.”
“Promise me you will never talk to a real person this way.”
“Ah, but this explains so much! You are not real! You are a fantasy! A dream! Perhaps George is feverish to have such a vision appear!”
“Good lord.”
“Lovely exquisite Siryusslee . . . may I call you Sir?”
I stare at Kallan.
Kallan nods her finger, “Perhaps not, then. Yes, I see. It is too soon to be so informal.”
“Can you get me a hanger?”
“I am faint with anticipation! I will hand you this hanger and then my fingertips will linger. Our first touch!”
“Kallan, what have you been watching on TV?”
“I am sure that if you had known this momentous touching was to occur, you would have gotten a manicure, but no matter . . . my love is true and will look beyond your surface flaws to the depths of beauty.”
“Babe? What have you been watching on TV?”
Kallan is startled out of character, “What? Nothing new . . . I am just being flirty guy. That’s how flirty Italian guy talks. How do you not know this?”
I turn to the closet, “Never mind. I will get the hanger myself.”
George speaks again, “And I will just stand here and admire as you improve the scenery. Perhaps when you are done with this task, you will join me for lunch. I shall prepare you a cheese sandwich.”
“Kallan, George is creeping me out. Next thing you know, he will be saying How you doing? like I saw on a show one time.”
Kallan giggles, “You want me to eat him?”
“Please.”
George protests as Kallan brings her finger to her lips, “Gorgeous Kallan, as lovely as your mouth is, I have no desire to explore further . . . alright, a simple kiss perhaps . . . arrgugubghhjghghghhh.”
Kallan licks her finger clean and stares at me. She cocks her head and looks me up and down, and then in George’s smooth Italian voice, she says, “How you doing?”
Kallan is ten.
I am doomed.
Kallan leans in to look up at me and speak confidingly, “Mommy? We do have Pepto-Bismol, right? Just in case, I mean.”
Hee hee.
