He shakes his head at my shortsightedness and pulls out more esoteric pastes and lotions

He shakes his head at my shortsightedness and pulls out more esoteric pastes and lotions.
"I don't want to imply that there's anything wrong with him, you know, give him something that fixes anything. He doesn't need fixing." I finally settle on a stainless steel razor and watch him wrap it in red tissue paper and tie a red bow around the black box. Parfait.
I greet Grayer outside his classroom with his coat held out. "Bonsoir, Monsieur X. Comment ca va?"
"Ca va tres bien, Nanny. Merci beaucoup. Et vous?" he asks, waving his magic fingers at me.
"Oui, oui, tres bien."
Maxime leans her head out of the classroom to the row of cubbies where I'm bundling Grayer. "Grayer is really coming along with his verbs." She smiles down at him from atop her Charles Jourdan pumps. "But if you could take some time with him to practice the noun list each week, that would be fantastique. If either you or your husband-"
"Oh, I'm not his mother."
"Ah, mon Dieu! Je m'excuse."
"Non, non, pas de problem," I say.
"Alors, see you next week, Grayer."
I try to push him home quickly because a frigid wind is whipping down Park.
"As soon as we get upstairs," I say, crouching in the elevator to loosen his scarf, "I'm going to put some Vaseline on your cheeks, okay? You're getting a little chapped."
"Okay. What are we going to do tonight, Nanny? Let's fly! Yeah, I think we should fly as soon as we get upstairs." Lately I've been balancing him on my feet and "flying" him in his room.
"After bath, G, that's flying time." I push the stroller over the threshold. "What do you want for dinner?"
I'm hanging up our coats when Mrs. X walks into the front hall in a floor-length red evening gown and Velcro curlers, already in the heat of preparation for her Valentine dinner date with Mr. X.
"Hi, guys. Did you have a good day?"
"Happy Valentine's Day, Mommy!" Grayer shouts in greeting.
"Happy Valentine's Day. Oops, be careful of Mommy's dress."
Spatula.
"Wow, you look beautiful," I say, pulling off my boots.
"You think so?" She looks down in consternation at her midriff. "I still have a little time-Mr. X's flight from Chicago doesn't land for another half hour. Could you come help me for a minute?"
"Sure. I was just going to get dinner started. I think Grayer's pretty hungry."
"Oh. Well, why don't you just order something in? There's money in the drawer." Well, I never.
"Great! Grayer, why don't you come help me order?" I keep a hidden stash of menus in the laundry room for emergencies.
"Pizza! I want pizza, Nanny! Pleeeaaase?"
I raise an eyebrow at him because he knows I can't say "But you had pizza for lunch" in front of his mother.
"Great. Nanny, why don't you call for a pizza, pop in a v-i-d-e-o and then come help me," she says as she leaves the room.
"Hahaha, pizza, Nanny, we're having pizza," he laughs and claps wildly at his unbelievable good fortune.
"Mrs. X?" I push the door open.
"In here!" she calls out from the dressing room. She's standing in another floor-length red gown and there's a third hanging up behind her.
"Oh, my God! Wow, it's beautiful." This one has thicker straps and red velvet leaf appliques trailing around the skirt. The color is a stunning combination with her thick black hair.