Little Helper

"What are you doing?" I asked, peering over my oldest son's shoulder.

"Nothing," he snarled, repositioning himself in front of the computer screen. "Go away."

"Hey, that's the University of Miami website!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands. "I'll help."

"No you won't," he responded. "You'll just be stupid."

"You're picking a roommate, aren't you?"

"Please go away," he said.

"Really, I'm good at this. What sort of questions do you need to answer?"

Resignedly, he let me read the screen.

"How come there's no place to write that your dad's going to be living with you?"

"See, you're already being stupid," he said.

"Hey, I'm paying for this."

"I got a scholarship."

"True," I admitted.

"And Grandma's helping."

"It's the least she can do, given how she treats me," I said. "Anyway, I'm still chipping in. Besides, it'd be fun to have me live down there. It'd be like 'Old School.'"

"You're going to take off your clothes and run through Miami?" he asked. "How would that be fun for anyone?"

"Don't be so suburban," I said.

"Mom, can you make him leave me alone," he yelled.

"Then he'll just bother me," the Lovely Bride called back from downstairs.

"But he's driving me crazy," said the boy.

"That's why you're going away to college," she said. "I'll still be stuck here with him."

"You're right," he said. "Sorry mom."

"Does that mean I get to help you?" I asked.

"Only if you'll be normal."

"Where's the box to check if you want a cheerleader for a roommate?" I asked.

"I heard that!'" the Lovely Bride snapped.

"Looks like you'll be rooming with Lucy tonight," the boy smirked. Hearing her name, the dog ran over and started gnawing on my arm.

"C'mon girl, let's go streaking," I told her. "Here we come, sweetie!" I shouted to the Lovely Bride, jogging downstairs.

"Three more months," the boy muttered to himself.