gallery. In the New Strand Shopping Center, you’re not even allowed to go into the candy shop without an accompanying adult. Why aren’t you doing that here?”
“You mean you’d like to go to space with the children?” asked Dr. Drax.
“Yes. Yes, of course I would!”
“But…”
They were all staring at me. Monsieur Martinet rolled his eyes and muttered, “Of course he should be with the children. He is a child. Tall, but a child.”
Dr. Drax held her hands up. “I think,” she said, “I am having one of my great ideas.”
We waited to see what it was.
“A daddy in space. I will send one of you to space. But which one?”
I said, “Me. I’ll go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” snarled Monsieur Martinet. “The job needs a real leader. I’ll go.”
“It might be better to have someone capable of understanding the science,” said Samson One. “Someone like me.”
“Let’s have a little competition,” said Dr. Drax. “I can see from the way you play golf that you’re all very competitive. And you are all so different. Monsieur Martinet imposes a strong discipline, Samson One believes in education—”
“I certainly do.”
“Mr. Xanadu is very indulgent—or generous. And Mr. Digby is…” She looked at me as though she was trying to remember why she specially selected me. In the end she said, “Mr. Digby is available.”
“When you say competition…?” said Mr. Xanadu.
“Simple. You’ll all do the space training with your children, and the one who proves to be the best taikonaut…no, not the best taikonaut, the best father—he will go to space.”
Yes! I’d really leveled up this time. It was like when you get to the next stage of a game and the whole landscape changes—and it’s full of new dangers and different thrills. I’d leveled up from a round of golf to space exploration.
“I will be the winner,” said Monsieur Martinet. “When it comes to winning, I wrote the manual.”
“Me,” said Samson One. “I have the brains.”
“Me,” said Mr. Xanadu. “Because I want to and I do tend to get what I want.”
“That,” said Dr. Drax, “is for the children to decide. We’ll let them vote.”
I didn’t say anything. I knew it was going to be me.
I was dying to hear all about the rocket. The minute Florida came through the door I said, “So what was it like? The rocket?”
She said, “’S’all right.”
“That’s it? Your first day on a real rocket and that’s all you can say? ‘’S’all right’?”
“No.”
“What else?”
“I’m starving.”
I remembered the bit in Talk to Your Teen about using fiddly food to get teenagers to talk. I made a stir-fry and said, “Let’s use real chopsticks.”
“I don’t know how to use chopsticks.”
“There’s instructions on the packet.”
“They’re in Chinese.”
“Just try.”
It made the meal last a long time, but it didn’t improve the conversation because we were concentrating so hard on the chopsticks. In the end I just said, “Well, it doesn’tmatter if you don’t tell me what the rocket’s like anyway. Because I’m going on it too,” and I told her all about the competition.
Finally Florida began to communicate. She said, “Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.”
“What’s so funny?”
“Your joke. You are joking, aren’t you? You don’t really think you’re going to win.”
“I might.”
“Liam, have you got a bike?”
“I’ve got a Cherokee Chief.”
“Is it a fast bike?”
“It’s got twenty-three gears.”
“Could it win the Grand National?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not a horse.”
“And you won’t win the dad competition because you’re NOT A DAD.”
“True. On the other hand, I’m not an actual elf warrior either, but the Wanderlust Warriors rule the floor in World of Warcraft.”
“Liam, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m saying…pretending sometimes works. Like at Little
“You mean you’d like to go to space with the children?” asked Dr. Drax.
“Yes. Yes, of course I would!”
“But…”
They were all staring at me. Monsieur Martinet rolled his eyes and muttered, “Of course he should be with the children. He is a child. Tall, but a child.”
Dr. Drax held her hands up. “I think,” she said, “I am having one of my great ideas.”
We waited to see what it was.
“A daddy in space. I will send one of you to space. But which one?”
I said, “Me. I’ll go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” snarled Monsieur Martinet. “The job needs a real leader. I’ll go.”
“It might be better to have someone capable of understanding the science,” said Samson One. “Someone like me.”
“Let’s have a little competition,” said Dr. Drax. “I can see from the way you play golf that you’re all very competitive. And you are all so different. Monsieur Martinet imposes a strong discipline, Samson One believes in education—”
“I certainly do.”
“Mr. Xanadu is very indulgent—or generous. And Mr. Digby is…” She looked at me as though she was trying to remember why she specially selected me. In the end she said, “Mr. Digby is available.”
“When you say competition…?” said Mr. Xanadu.
“Simple. You’ll all do the space training with your children, and the one who proves to be the best taikonaut…no, not the best taikonaut, the best father—he will go to space.”
Yes! I’d really leveled up this time. It was like when you get to the next stage of a game and the whole landscape changes—and it’s full of new dangers and different thrills. I’d leveled up from a round of golf to space exploration.
“I will be the winner,” said Monsieur Martinet. “When it comes to winning, I wrote the manual.”
“Me,” said Samson One. “I have the brains.”
“Me,” said Mr. Xanadu. “Because I want to and I do tend to get what I want.”
“That,” said Dr. Drax, “is for the children to decide. We’ll let them vote.”
I didn’t say anything. I knew it was going to be me.
I was dying to hear all about the rocket. The minute Florida came through the door I said, “So what was it like? The rocket?”
She said, “’S’all right.”
“That’s it? Your first day on a real rocket and that’s all you can say? ‘’S’all right’?”
“No.”
“What else?”
“I’m starving.”
I remembered the bit in Talk to Your Teen about using fiddly food to get teenagers to talk. I made a stir-fry and said, “Let’s use real chopsticks.”
“I don’t know how to use chopsticks.”
“There’s instructions on the packet.”
“They’re in Chinese.”
“Just try.”
It made the meal last a long time, but it didn’t improve the conversation because we were concentrating so hard on the chopsticks. In the end I just said, “Well, it doesn’tmatter if you don’t tell me what the rocket’s like anyway. Because I’m going on it too,” and I told her all about the competition.
Finally Florida began to communicate. She said, “Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.”
“What’s so funny?”
“Your joke. You are joking, aren’t you? You don’t really think you’re going to win.”
“I might.”
“Liam, have you got a bike?”
“I’ve got a Cherokee Chief.”
“Is it a fast bike?”
“It’s got twenty-three gears.”
“Could it win the Grand National?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not a horse.”
“And you won’t win the dad competition because you’re NOT A DAD.”
“True. On the other hand, I’m not an actual elf warrior either, but the Wanderlust Warriors rule the floor in World of Warcraft.”
“Liam, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m saying…pretending sometimes works. Like at Little
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