“Hey there,” I say to the driver of the limo as he gets out to open the door for Caleb and me.

He just nods at me like he’s trying to be polite but also like he’s not really supposed to talk to me.

As we head downtown, Caleb sings a little song that’s almost as cute as he is.

“I’m a little teapot, short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout…”

He bounces around in the toddler car seat that had already been installed in the limo and that the driver had buckled him into, obviously excited.

“Larson coming storytime!” He announces proudly once he’s done with his song.

“I sure am, Buddy,” I tell him.

I look out at the window at the beautifully colored falling leaves and try to enjoy the moment. Part of me is upset about Brynn but part of me is touched that Caleb is so happy I’m spending the day with him.

Another part of me feels an obvious yearning for what I’m supposed to have but don’t. I thought maybe I had regained some of that with Brynn and Caleb but now I don’t know what to think.

I’m silent— and so is Caleb, except for some quiet humming— until we arrive at the New York Public Library. And then I’m just fucking in awe of the place.

It looks like a fucking train station or house of Parliament or something. It’s so large and ornate, with more books than I would think it possible for all of humanity to read.

“This way,” Caleb says, trotting towards one of the many rooms.

I follow him to a round rug where a lot of children are already gathered. A librarian is asking them what they want to read first.

“Miss Bonnie!” he says, hugging her.

“Why hello there Mr. Caleb,” she says, returning the hug and then looking up at me. “Who did you bring with you today?”

“Larson,” Caleb says proudly. “Gen-tle-man friend.”

“Is that so?” Miss Bonnie says, trying hard not to laugh.

It’s definitely fucking funny— Caleb is always a hoot. But I’m trying hard not to die of embarrassment. What is this lady going to think of the fact that Caleb’s fancy lawyer mom is dating a scruffy, tattooed guy who walks around in a motorcycle jacket?

“I assume he means Mommy’s gentleman friend,” Miss Bonnie says. “Nice to meet you, Larson.”

She shakes my hand warmly and her eyes are twinkling. I realize then that she was truly only laughing at Caleb’s child-like innocence. She isn’t judging me.

I feel relief, but then I realize that perhaps she’s never even met Brynn.

As if answering my question, Miss Bonnie asks Caleb, “Where’s Esmeralda today?”

I can’t help but feel a wave of disbelief. If I still had a fucking kid, I’d be at story time every week with him— or any other time he might want to go anywhere.

I understand that Brynn has to work and I know from what she’s told me how hard it is for her to be away from Caleb for a job she doesn’t even like. So I’m not judging her but I just fucking feel bad for her. For both of them. There has got to be a better way.

“Esie stay home,” Caleb answers. “Larson come story time.”

“Well, tell Esmeralda I said hello,” Miss Bonnie says. “And Larson, you are certainly welcome any time. Go ahead and take a seat.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her that this is probably the only time I’ll be here— that it looks like things between Caleb’s mommy and her gentleman friend aren’t working out quite as well as said gentleman friend had hoped.

I sit on a folding chair next to a bunch of grandmas, nannies, mommies and a few dads. Everyone nods at me politely but some of them look at me funny, since I’m obviously a bit out of place.

Caleb joins the other kids in the circle. Miss Bonnie reads them Peter Rabbit. Then she leads them in some kind of hopping game I’ve never seen and Caleb keeps looking back at me as he jumps around. I give him a thumbs up and he smiles.

“Next, it’s time for a craft,” Miss Bonnie says. “The grown ups you came with can help you make them.”

She passes out a sock to each child that they’re supposed to decorate to look like a rabbit and put on their hand to look like a puppet.

“I’m not very good at crafts,” I tell Caleb, as I try my best to stick a cotton ball approximately where the rabbit’s tail should be.

“That’s okay!” Caleb says, as he bends some pipe cleaner to make the sock bunny’s ears.

After a while, we have ourselves a decent looking rabbit.

“Hop hop!” Caleb says, making his arm— and the rabbit— jump up and down.

Miss Bonnie reads more books— mostly rabbit-themed— and then a snack: carrots, of course, as well as crackers and a tiny egg-shaped chocolate for each kid. They also sing Little Bunny Foo Foo, pretending to scoop up field mice and bop them on the head.

All the kids including Caleb love it and I have to fucking admire the organization that goes into this story time for toddlers. It’s almost as impressive as the library itself.

“Okay, it’s almost time to end for today,” says Miss Bonnie, and all the kids groan. “Time to sing one more song.”

Bunnies love to hop, llamas love to chew…

Caleb joins in and looks at me as if he expects me to, but I’ve never heard of this song. I just smile and nod at him in encouragement. He does motions along with the other kids to the song.

Birdies love to tweet and I love you.

At this part, he motions towards his chest, then crosses his heart and then points at me. I almost want to fucking cry.

“Awww, thanks kid,” I tell him.

But the song’s not over yet.  Miss Bonnie must have made it today’s mission to tug on my heart strings just a little more.

Horses love to gallop, owls love to hoooooo,

Doggies like to bark and I love you!

If that isn’t the cutest song, sung by the cutest living kid, then I don’t know what is.

“Have a good day, kids!” Miss Bonnie says, by way of dismissing them.

Caleb gets a running start and then jumps into my lap. He hugs me, and I hug him back, really tight.

“Thank you for coming story time!” he says.

“Thank you for inviting me, Little Man.”

We walk down to Bryant Park and sit down in the grass. It’s not as cold as it was yesterday, which is good because we can sit outside for a little while.

Caleb’s not too hungry since he just ate a snack but he eats half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some goldfish crackers. He thinks it’s hilarious to make the goldfish swim up to his mouth, just so he can bite their heads off. What a funny little guy. There’s also a ham and cheese sandwich in the lunch box.

“I guess this is for me,” I tell Caleb with a shrug, remembering how Brynn had told me that Esmeralda made her lunches.

“Esie made!” he says. “Yum yum yum.”

However much money that woman makes, she most definitely deserves a raise.

I eat my sandwich— I’m always hungry— and Caleb and I wash it all down with a juice box (his) and a bottle of water (mine).

“You ready to head back home, buddy?” I ask him.

He nods.

As he takes my hand and we trudge back to the limo, I wonder if he’s wishing his mom could be with us. But he hasn’t mentioned anything, and I figure he’s probably used to not having her around.

All signs are pointing in the direction of me getting used to that too, if I want whatever we have to go anywhere further. And I’m thinking that that doesn’t sound like much of a relationship. So I guess this isn’t going to work out after all.