Yet Master7 is usually easily managed. I briefly wondered why he was squatting frozen on the car seat instead of jumping over into the seats at the back. He knows the routine. Was he sick? Defiant? Brain dead?
I could feel my blood pressure rising.
"Hey, kiddo, into the back!" Still nothing. I snapped his name to grab his attention and he seemed to come out of a daze. He looked at me, smiled and started moving.
"Sorry, dad," he said, and jumped over to his seat. "You smell really nice and I was trying to enjoy it before I jumped back here because now I won't be able to smell you." He gave me his winning cheeky grin again. "You really do smell really, really good."
That is either the most original lie or the most disquieting truth to come out of his mouth.
On an unrelated topic, I think I might drop a hint about another bottle of Cool Waters for my upcoming birthday.