“Ossie,” I intoned, making clear the fact that he was speaking out of turn. "I know you did. For a fact, and lying to me isn’t going to make this any better.”
His eyes darted back and forth, as if looking for an escape hatch inside his own head. He was formulating a plan, something to get out of this situation, and then he stopped. His brow furrowed.
“Wait,” he said, sitting back upright. And then he followed up with possibly the sweetest thing he ever asked me, given the context. “What’s porn?”
I couldn’t help but smile. His defense hadn’t been self-preservation so much as it was genuine confusion. “It’s videos and pictures of people having sex,” I told him. He slumped back into embarrassment. “Oh. Then, yes. I looked at porn.”
Good thing the internet is going to be like, the lamest thing ever by the time my baby is nine.
Oh, and make sure you read this at least until the point where you find out what Oscar thought a “bimbo” was.