Nico and I finally did it: we finally moved in together. The air conditioner works, the washing machine works, the bugs have been killed . . . finally everything has fallen into place.
My biggest concern wasn’t the physical details of the house, though. My biggest concern was with how the occupants of the house would mesh together.
The single mom thing colors and changes everything about dating. It’s not just me that Nico was moving in with; it was my kids, too. When Nico started talking about marriage back in the spring I told him, “You can’t just love me. You have to love all three of us.” We’re a package deal, my boys and me. Nico and I meshed just fine, but how would the four of us be together?
From the moment my little dudes and I stepped into the house, my older boy was glued, absolutely glued, to Nico. Oh my god. It was like Nico was the coolest person in the universe. He wants Nico to play Bakugan with him and watch him do cool tricks in a video game and listen to him tell stories.
My older boy happens to be the keenest judge of people I’ve ever met. He can sense if someone is a good guy or if someone is a tool. And he’s never quiet about those opinions. At school there were a couple dumb-ass teachers that I’d love to punch . . . and my son got the same vibe from these individuals and would march up to the principal’s office to demand they be fired. And he doesn’t want to fire Nico; he wants to spend every second he can with him.
Last night the boys’ dad called. My older son talked to him for all of 90 seconds then handed the phone off to me. I realized that since we moved to Metropolis, he’s never once asked about his dad or said a single thing about missing him. Never once. Like I said, he’s a keen judge of character.
For his part, Nico seems a bit shell-shocked. He’s not used to living with kids so all of this is a major adjustment. I’m trying to pace myself and give him time . . . but I’m impatient so that’s hard.