“Rocky, would you be so kind as to make me a cup of coffee?” “I’d be delighted to, Dad,” I say. “Wait,” he says. “I hadn’t really looked at you. You are up to your elbows in a turkey’s asshole. The coffee can wait.” Jamie, two and a half years old, once asked me to unwrap a string cheese while I was trying to fix the zipper on my jeans and then added, politely, “Whenever you’re done looking at your penis, Mama.”
