'How extremely generous of him.'

'Pat, don't be so childish, please? If we both behave like we're adults, if everybody can be civilised, this whole thing will be much easier for all concerned.'

'Yeah, easier for you and Mr Wonderful, perhaps. But maybe it's not quite so fine and dandy for the kids and me.'

I'd thought I might see Rosie on the weekend, find out how she was doing, if her foot was better now. But didn't I want to see my children? Yes, of course I did. So possibly we could head over no, I couldn't take the kids to Ben's. They'd wreck the place. Polly would leave sticky marks or worse on everything. Joe would go maul all Ben's memorabilia of the Minnesota Twins or break one of his precious gadgets Ben is the original Gadget Man, yet he calls me a geek and then there would be blood.

So when Ben called me up, suggested dinner, I said I couldn't make it. Sorry, I was busy. Yeah, for the whole weekend.

'You fixed yourself up with some dates?'

'You got it.'

'Man, I'm proud of you! Who are the lucky girls?'

'Beyonce's stopping by and bringing Katy Perry. I made a gallon of tequila slammers so we're going to have a blast. I'm watching Joe and Polly. I'd have liked to come-'

'But Lex has spoken.'

I didn't know my kids had so much stuff.

Well, I guess I did. It all lived here not so long ago. It was just seeing it dumped in one great pile on the carpet in the living room that made me double-take.

Stroller, clothes and toys and diapers why is Polly still in diapers, shouldn't she be out of them by now, she's almost three backpacks, special mugs and plates, special cushions, special pillows, special comforters. I could have stocked a store.

'Be good for Daddy.' Lexie kissed them both goodbye. 'Joseph, don't forget to brush your teeth, and just quit trying to get that loose one out until it's good and ready. Polly, when you need the bathroom, tell your daddy, don't-'

'We'll be fine,' I said, wondering if Mr Wonderful was going to show his face, make my acquaintance?

It soon became apparent he was not. What was his problem? I thought we were being civilised? Did that not mean if we should meet I had to shake the b.a.s.t.a.r.d by the hand? Yeah, right, in Lexie's dreams. I'd sooner- 'Patrick, are you listening?' Lexie's voice stabbed into my reflections. 'No fast food no shakes, no sodas, ice creams, burgers, pizzas, chicken fingers, do you hear me?'

'Yeah, I hear you.'

'No grilled cheese sandwiches for Joe because they're way too high in salt and remember Polly is allergic to anything with soy in it. I think she might be getting a wheat intolerance, too.'

'What is the kid allowed to eat?'

'Oh, a ton of stuff! Most fruit except for strawberries don't give her any strawberries most vegetables, all oat-and-corn-and-rice-based products, any kind of salad.'

'So, this wheat intolerance, how do I find out-'

'All you need to do is check that everything you give these kids I think Joe is getting to be wheat intolerant too is gluten-free. It will say so on the labelling. Oh, and please don't get them any fries.'

'Say goodbye to Mommy,' I told Joe and Polly.

'Goodbye, Mom,' said Joe, while Polly chewed her thumb and gazed from me to Lex with big round puzzled eyes.

'Do as Daddy tells you now,' said Lexie. 'I'll see you guys on Sunday.'

'You happy to be home, kids?' I asked when Lex had gone.

'I guess,' said Joe and shrugged unhappily. 'But my stuff's all gone, except my bed, and Mom says home's with her and Stephen now. Dad, I want to see The Terminator.'

'Yeah, you go say hey. He missed you, Joe.'

'I missed him, too.'

The Terminator hadn't moved to Mr Wonderful's real house with its real yard. Lex said Mr Wonderful was phobic when it came to rats and mice and hamsters, all those little guys with tails and whiskers.

What a coward.

Joe went to check his rodent out. Polly stood there looking lost, bewildered, and my heart ached for my baby girl. I scooped her up and held her tight, inhaling her sweet cotton candy scent.

'What shall we do?' I asked her as she threaded chubby, sticky fingers through my hair, something she had done since she was tiny. 'We could watch a movie, play a game? Or read a book?'

'I'm hungry, Daddy.'

'Let's go get pizza, then. Joe, what do you say to pizza, ice cream floats and fries?'

'We can get pizza, Dad?' Joe frowned, confused. 'Mommy said no pizza.'

'I'm not Mommy.'

'We can have four seasons?'

'Yeah, Joe, sure we can or even five.'

'Dad, you're so dumb, there's only four.' Joe managed a wan smile. 'The Terminator's doing great,' he added. 'You took good care of him.'

'Yeah,' I said, 'we're buddies, me and the little guy.'

'Pizza, Daddy?' Polly said, reminding me.

'Okay, let's. .h.i.t the road.'

After pizza, ice cream floats and fries, we picked up a bunch of movies. Then we headed back to the apartment in the trash-mobile.

We watched Toy Story, Cinderella, Shrek. I told the kids a story, gave them supper Lex-approved this time. I got them into their pyjamas and then put them to bed.

When I woke on Sat.u.r.day, I found them piled on top of me like puppies, lying in a grunting, snorting heap. I shoved them off of me. Then we had a pillow fight and then I fixed some breakfast. I decided we would have a super-duper day, as Rosie Denham why couldn't I stop thinking about Rosie, I already told myself to quit would maybe put it?

'What do you guys want to do?' I asked them, making with the democratic process but reserving my own right of veto in case they wanted to go play with lions or travel into outer s.p.a.ce.

'Be a fairy, Daddy,' Polly told me.

'She means she wants to wear her wings,' said Joe disgustedly. 'They're in her Barbie backpack.'

As I pinned Polly's bright pink glittery wings on to her bright pink sweatshirt, Joe started snickering. 'Poll, now you're a fat pink bug,' he said. 'Poll, you look like-'

'Joe, shut up. What do you want to be?'

'A superhero, Dad.'

So I fixed a Rambo-style bandanna round his head, but drew the line at face paint, which in my opinion makes little kids look weird.

Then we went out to find some action.

We went to a play park, manned a fort. But then it started raining, so we went to three museums, which were pretty cool, since you ask, not like the museums I remembered from when I was a kid. There was stuff to ride on, slide on, hide in, levers to be pulled, bubbles to blow, b.u.t.tons to press.

We got chicken fingers in a downtown fast food outlet. We drank sodas, milkshakes, we ate fries. Then we ran the calories off in Minnehaha Park.

Joe climbed on stuff and jumped on stuff and threw himself off stuff and generally acted like a tough guy. The fairy didn't join in these activities. She sat on my lap and chewed my shirt cuff, like I guess fairies do.

On Sunday it was cold and cloudy, reminding me that winter would soon be on its way. But it wasn't winter yet h.e.l.l, we were barely into fall.

'What do you want to wear, you kids?' I asked when we had eaten breakfast.

Joe of course picked out his usual Angry Birds apparel. But Polly wasn't into wings today. She chose a short-sleeved tee, pink jeans and jacket with little guys like robins, sparrows, bluebirds appliqued I think that's the word around the neck and cuffs. The cuffs themselves were fraying where she'd sucked and chewed on them.

Then we went to the Minnesota Zoo, where both kids had a ball and I did too, I must admit. Why didn't we come here before? We saw the tiger cubs. We checked out all the big brown bears on Russia's Grizzly Coast. We followed foxes round the Northern Trail. We said hey to the beavers and racc.o.o.ns.

Then we stopped off at a TGI to get more chicken fingers and more fries and chocolate shakes. Joe ate everything, slurped down his shake and asked for more. But Polly didn't seem to want to eat more than a couple fries and half a chicken finger. She didn't touch her shake.

'Polly, are you done?' I asked.

'Daddy, sore.' She had been fidgeting awhile and now she started fussing with her jacket. Sore maybe she meant she was overheating?

'Come here, baby.' Polly climbed on to my lap, her thumb wedged in her mouth. 'You want to take your jacket off?' I added when she started pulling at the b.u.t.tons.

She nodded and went right on sucking. So I eased her jacket off. I saw she had a rash all round her neck and down her arms. When did this flare up? It hadn't been there when I dressed her in the morning, I was sure of it.

Joe checked out his sister's spots and poked them, making Polly cry.

'You cut that out,' I told him.

'But we need to make a diagnosis, Dad.'

'So what's your diagnosis?'

'We should take her to the hospital. Daddy, Polly's sick. When little kids get sick, they sometimes die.'

'Polly isn't going to die,' I said.

'Dad, a rash like Polly's could be a real emergency. Our kindergarten teacher told us. Mrs Daley said that if we ever get a rash, we need to tell our parents right away because it could be serious. Dad, we should go to the hospital.'

Maybe Joe was right? I wasn't seriously worried yet but Polly was still crying and the rash around her neck was red and sore and angry.

What to do, call 911, ask for an EMT?

Maybe not, I thought. I don't want to look like Mr Crazy Panicker.

But if Joe was right, if Poll was sick ...

So we left the TGI, drove right on over to the children's hospital, pa.s.sing near where Lexie's friend had his real house with its real yard on Saint Paul's Grand Avenue. I wondered if since we were in the neighbourhood we might have time to vandalise the yard.

Maybe later, I decided, after Polly was fixed up.

I made a total screw-up of getting Polly's stroller organised so she could sit in it. I couldn't make sense of the clips and catches. I was scared that when she climbed on board the thing would fall apart.

Who in h.e.l.l had engineered it, some wise guy from NASA with a grudge against the human race? But I had to sort the stroller. Polly fussed and grizzled when I picked her up as if she was in pain and, as Joe pointed out a dozen times, she was too sick to walk.

We crossed the parking lot and went into the hospital, were clerked and told to wait. Joe was fascinated by the doctors in their scrubs and clogs, and by the kids with bandages, on crutches or in plaster or with patches on their eyes.

So somebody was happy.

But Polly cried and cried. A candy striper stopped and talked to us, a.s.sured us we'd be seen as soon as possible, and did I want to get myself a coffee?

'No, thank you,' I replied. I wouldn't mind a pair of jeans, I didn't add. My own were soaked where Poll had wet on me. I hadn't changed her diaper in a while and it was leaking now.

'Hey, Dad check out that poster!' Joe was gazing round the place, intrigued by all the artwork on the walls, most of it designed to make you feel much sicker than you did before. 'Men-gin-itis, that's what Polly has look, you can see the rash!'

I checked out the poster. Bacterial meningitis a killer of young children if you notice any of these symptoms ...

I didn't know what I should do. Polly had a rash. She was hot and sticky. She might have a temperature. She fussed and fussed and fussed. I thought of going to the desk and making a big scene, shouting that my baby here was dying but no one seemed to care.

As I was considering my options, a nurse came up to us. 'Hi, guys,' she began. 'I'm Sandy Pearson, I work in Paediatrics.'

'I'm Joe, and this is Polly,' said my son. 'Polly here's real sick.'

'We'll soon fix Polly,' Sandy said. Then she took us to a doctor's office, white clogs slap-slapping on the rubber floor.

'Hey, hey, little lady there's no need for all this fuss!' The tired-looking resident well, I guess he had to be a doctor, even though he looked about fourteen smiled rea.s.suringly.

What did he know?

The nurse helped Polly squirm out of her jacket and her tee. Then the doctor looked at Polly's rash. He took her temperature. He checked her pulse and listened to her heart. He looked into her ears and down her throat.

Joe was almost literally fizzing with excitement, like a soda bottle that's been all shook up.

'What's Polly done today?' the doctor asked us.

'We took her to the zoo,' said Joe. 'We saw the tiger cubs and bears and foxes. She liked the foxes best.'

'Did you introduce her to the monkeys?'

'No,' Joe told him, puzzled. 'Why would we do that?'

'The monkeys are our cousins. It's good to visit with our families from time to time. Swing by and say h.e.l.lo, how are you doing?'