Daytime Terrors and Nighttime Sweats


by Amber Scott
ã 2010 Amber Scott

Yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon, I awoke from a daydreaming slumber with a sheen of cold sweat, one horrifying realization ricocheting through my brain: Oh funky ducks. He can read.
You see, Stone, my soon to be six-year old, born on Halloween, read his first book to me the night before. With astonishing accuracy he recited the story of two dogs going camping. I loved every last word. It was one of those brilliant moments a mother’s heart memorizes forever.
The next day, as I sat typing away on my latest spicy romance per my usual routine, I had a mental pause. I let myself daydream what words to flick my fingers onto next. Morning cartoons tinkled in and out of my awareness along with the feel of Stone settling in next to me and hugging my arm.
Liv Starr, succubus in exile, needing sustenance only certain flavors of human men can provide, in very specific sexual form. She’s fighting to resist taking Justin but at the same time needs him. Hmmm. What comes next? What is she feeling in her stomach? In her heart? Over the surface of her skin?
“Mama, what does frobbing mean?”
Eeeerrrrrrccchhhh.
Frobbing? Oh, crap. Throbbing. He’s sounding out throbbing. And if his eyes keep scanning forth, he will next ask me (I’m hoping) why I’m writing about roosters!
Uhhhh.....Funky ducks!!
This is the moment my sisters, my friends all asked me about. Warned and laughed about. Except I thought he’d be twenty before I was faced with any questions about what I write.
With a smile I snap my laptop shut and move my lapdesk to the ottoman. My heart is in my throat. I wrap my arms around Stone and take a deep, steadying breath.
“Wow, Stone. You are reading like a pro now, aren’t you?”
Stone beams up at me. “Uh-huh. So, what’s frobbing mean?”
I take his hand and press it to my pulse doing just that in my neck. “Can you feel that?”
He frowns a little then nods enthusiastically, blue eyes shining.
“That is throbbing,” I say.
“Why was it frobbing?”
Think, think, think! “Well, because I’m writing a story and the character in my story had just gotten very, very scared.”
“Ooooh.” He nods solemnly. “Can I be Harry Potter again for Halloween?”
Absolutely.
Phew. That was a very close call.

Amber Scott is giving away three copies of her latest release,  Play Fling to three random commenters. So leave a comment!!
She can be found at http://AmberScottProject.com
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+ comments + 4 comments

October 20, 2010 at 5:26 PM

*snort*
Quite the reader already. :-p
I didn't learn the word throbbing until I switched from reading Dutch books to English books. They don't teach you words like that in English class.

October 20, 2010 at 6:39 PM

Holy smokes, that was close! Thank goodness you're quick on your feet. I probably would have said something rediculous like,"Nevermind! None of your business! Then that would cause all sorts of eyebrow raising... ugh! LOL

October 21, 2010 at 12:06 PM

Mommy, mommy dearest - you cleaver little gal. You know Edgar Alan Poe did introduce us to the heart, beating beneath the floor...Frankly, that's where my heart would have ended up if I ran into your predicament. Good job making that lovely little side step. I'm writing it down for Grandma's "Gee, what do I say now" book. LOL

October 22, 2010 at 10:53 AM

Nice save. Very nice. As a teacher the best part of that whole story is that you turned the moment into a teaching one, and you complimented your son on his success instead of focusing on your own embarrassment. Well done, Amber. Thanks for sharing.

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