We're sitting in the stands. . .
and Warwick is keeping the books. You know for softball. How many runs, number of pop-ups, where balls are going in the outfield, all the little details he loves so much.
He points to center field and yells to the positioning coach, " The ball is going to short stop! Slow runner on second. Tag her - - - then throw to first!"
He walked into the house, eyes squinting, head tilted, head half convulsing.
Him: Nicole! Nicole! Did you know there is paint splattered all over the grass? And a bit on the sidewalk. And ON. THE. BRICK. OF THE HOUSE??? Did you know that?
I look at him and purse my lips. I turn back around and continue combing Phoebe's hair.
Him: Nicole. Seriously. It's like you turned the water hose on. . . then holding a paint brush full of paint . . .tried to hose it off, but it just splattered. . . .everywhere. . .on the house, on the sidewalk, on the grass. .. .Did you do that? Do you remember doing anything like that?