The Puppetmasters

Ariel totally respects the fact that his father has a job. The little guy gets it -- we need money from somewhere, his mommy ain't the best gig in town, and his dad is willing to step up, be the main provider, at least for the time being.

So every morning begins with Ariel waking up first, Y getting him from his crib and plunking him down in my bed to curl up in my neck and watch Elmo while I try to snooze a little longer and Y gets showered and ready to leave for the day. Then Y kisses him goodbye and Ariel says "whur daddy go bye?" and Y answers "I'm going to work, sweetie." Throughout the day Ariel asks me again and again where Y is, beats me to the punch with the answer, like he knows but just to confirm, "Daddy whuk?" To which I say, yes, he is at work. Sometimes he will point to one of Y's suits hanging in the closet, or a lone necktie strewn over the back of an armchair, and proclaim, "Daddy whuk!" with pride.

Whenever he tries distracting me from my day-job, however, and I calmly explain that Mommy can't play Legos right now because she is working, he just rolls his eyes and gives me a look like, When you gonna get real, Woman?! Wearing a suit and tie and rushing out the front door means work. Sitting at the computer wearing polka-dot pajamas at 2 PM while attacking a plate of nachos and blasting iTunes is not working IN ANYONE'S BOOK. Quit fooling yourself! Now, like I said, peeeez...LET'S. GO. PLAY. LEGOS.

Every other Wednesday night Y goes to meetings for the Neighborhood Council of Valley Village (A.K.A. "NCVV," to the hipper set), on which he sits as one of two Renter Votes. Yes, that's right- the handsome young Y has begun a foray into politics, filling the all-important role of opining on such pressing issues as what kind of flowers shall we plant on the new island on Laurel Canyon near the entrance to the 101?? THESE MATTERS AREN'T GOING TO SETTLE THEMSELVES! The bi-monthly meetings last 3-4 hours each, and let me tell you, the occasional fist has been known to fly when things at NCVV heat up ("Hydrangeas, dammit!!! I said HYDRANGEAS and I'm allergic to tulips and I'm not going to change my mind and AS A HOMEOWNER I have SENIORITY, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!") -- or if not actual fists, at the very least, feisty words.

But I digress. The point is, when Y tried to leave for the meeting after we all had dinner tonight, Ariel said, or more like whined, "No daddy whuk! NO DADDY WHUK!" It was clear that he had had enough of these departures of Y's, and suffice it to say that Y just melted. He was putty in the little guy's hands. When Ariel then whimpered, "Dino tee-bee," complete with puppy-dog eyes, Y flew into a frenzy, throwing things about, looking for his "The Land Before Time" DVD, suffocating my protests that he'd already watched it twice today with a vehement the-child-will-get-whatever-he-wants-right-now! and a large side order of guilt.

And I had this sudden mental image of Y and I as silly puppets with blank faces and Ariel and Elan our masters, predicting our every wiggle and move with the yank of a string.

How young it begins.