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I can’t hear what she’s saying, but Professor Knight seems to disentangle himself and get away fast. I am not looking forward to dealing with her all year.

Leann enters and orders at the counter before taking a seat nearby. I finally get through the last of the contracts as her squealing giggle fills the café. She’s got someone on her videochat, being very loud and public about their compliments to each other.

Glad you found someone to be obnoxious with you, Leann. Gladder it’s not me.

I pack up my stuff and head out. The late dinner crowd will be filling the place anyway. Better to not be in their way.

Taking the southern path through campus, I make the trek to my dad’s. It’s easier than driving and trying to find a spot for my last class of the day. By the time I make it, I’m a little bit sweaty, and they’re already prepping for dinner.

I grin at my son as he pops a cherry tomato in his mouth. “Are you sneaking bites, Mister?”

His bubbling laugh is the sweetest sound. I plant a kiss on his head and then one on Dad’s cheek on my way to the sink to wash my hands and wipe the sweat from my face. “So, boys, what’s on the menu for dinner?”

“Aren’t you going to set up a camera and help us?” Dad sets a few orange slices in front of Noah to distract him.

“Only if you’re okay with that.” I do it at home and in public, but I don’t like invading my dad’s house with it unless he gives me the okay.

“Of course, honey. It’s your thesis project, after all.” He throws me a smile. Always so supportive.

“Thanks, Dad.” I make quick work of it and hover behind Noah as we cut tomatoes and cucumbers and onions for a small salad to go with the chicken Dad is breading. Noah gets his hands on everything but the chicken, even snagging a taste of the breadcrumbs before the raw meat goes into it.

“One of these days…” I squeeze his shoulders and jiggle him about playfully. “You are going to get a mouthful of something you don’t like.”

“Nah,” he says between giggles. “No, I won’t.”

I laugh with him, continuously surprised by how much joy this little man brings me on a daily basis. “Ready to grate some cheese?”

He nods eagerly. One of his favorite tasks. My sonlovescheese. Even stinky blue cheese. At four. His obsession with food astounds me.

Noah holds the top, and I brace my hand over his to steady it while we both hold the cheese for grating. He makes long, smooth moves. We’ve done this more than once now, but I still get nervous with the sharp edges. Once we’re down to an inch of cheese, I relinquish the task as he stuffs a big pinch of cheese into his mouth.

I let him grab one more before I swing the plate over to Dad and gather Noah up in my grip to snuggle him into me.

“Mom.” Giggles ensue. “Mom.”

“Hmm? Is my little goblin trying to talk his way free of his love Momster?” I pretend to nibble on his neck and shoulder, snuffling like I’m going to eat him for dinner. “Mmm. Little goblin smells good. And I’m sooo hungry. No wait for dinner. Eat goblin.”

I swing him around into the living room, plop him on the couch, and blow raspberries across his tummy until Dad joins us. Now that the germy bit is done, I let my son loose to catch his breath and go to clean up the dishes while they select a meal-time movie.

To no one's surprise, Noah’s chosenRatatouille. Again.

Dad comes back into the kitchen with me once Noah’s absorbed in the film.

“How’s your day been, honey?” He nods to the camera still recording us. “How’s the project coming along?”

“Well, it’s only been a few days, but I think it’s going well. I’m going out this Friday for it. Are you okay with Noah for a few hours? I made sure it would be after your research hours.”Even though he has the most flexible schedule ever, he prefers a routine, and I don’t like messing that up.

His arm comes around my shoulders as he hugs me to him. “Not a problem. We'll probably be watching this movie again with some of those veggie sushi rolls from the market.”

I shake my head. “He must have gotten his adventurous eating from his father because I ate nothing but chicken nuggets and applesauce when I was four. I remember it clearly.”

They’re still my favorites when I’m feeling down.

Noah is so much like me that anything that doesn’t jive with my childhood, I blame it on his father. It’s an easy out.

“Mine was mashed potatoes and gravy. Maybe your mom. She grew up with more food variance than we did.” I bite my lip and wait for him to launch into his usual lecture about the morality of food safety laws among the differing governing bodies, but he doesn’t.

“Maybe. Oh, I was filming at the cafe on campus today, and my new Film Club faculty sponsor dropped by. He got us onto the set of the new Dickie Hernandez film.” I make bug eyes at him since I know he has no flipping clue who I’m talking about.