I wasn’t emptying the dishwasher this evening when Miles dashed into the kitchen. Instead of trying to “help” me with dishes, he burrowed himself into one of his favorite hiding places behind the recycling bin.
“What are you doing, buddy?” I asked.
“I hidin’,” he replied.
“From what?”
“Bikers.”
“You’re hiding from bikers?”
“Yeah.”
“Where do you see bikers? Outside?”
“No,” Miles said. “Bikers in the house.”
“There are bikers…in the house.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I have to be honest Miles, I don’t see any bikers in here, but I’m glad you told me about this.”
“Yeah,” Miles said. “And the monkey, and…and Dorrie.”
I had to think about this one. “Bikers” was weird enough — how did he even know what a biker was? But what did a monkey have to do with anything? And who was “Dorrie”…?
I suddenly realized what “bikers” was. “Oh!” I said. “You mean Swiper is in the house!”
“Yeah!” Miles said. “The bad guy!”
Yeah, so he’s been watching Dora the Explorer lately…
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 