Lisa chuckles, her eyes never leaving her screen as she types furiously.

Oh my God, please tell me she didn’t just type the words “wiener face” in my interview.

“In just three short months of being open, Seduction and Snacks is already turning a profit.  That’s almost unheard of for a new, small business.  What do you think is the key to this success?”

Do I look like Donald Trump?

I don’t know anything about anything.  I cover things in chocolate and bake cookies.  The key to success is pretending like it’s not really happening so that you don’t freak the fuck out thinking about it.

I answer her question as best I can without looking like a clueless moron.  I tell her it's all about luck and how I honestly have no idea how this happened to me.

Lisa finally takes a break from her typing to look up at me.

“It doesn’t hurt to have such a famous son either, right?!  Everyone I spoke with about Seduction and Snacks told me I absolutely HAD to meet the owner’s son.”

Oh dear God.  Here we go.

“I’m almost afraid to ask what else they said about him.  He’s lucky he’s cute or I would have put him out on the curb with the garbage years ago,” I tell her as we shared a laugh.

“You shut your mouth when you’re talking to me!” Gavin shouts.

I quickly reach over and cover his mouth with my hand.

I should have packed duct tape and a taser.

“If you can believe it, I’ve actually been asked by several customers if they could take him home.  If only they knew.  A marine sergeant stopped in a few days ago on his way to work and joked that he should take Gavin with him to basic training.  He figured Gavin could get the men to cry faster than he ever could,” I tell her.

She types with a small smile on her face, and I wonder if this will be my first and last magazine interview ever.

“As you know, we do a little research on the people we’re going to interview.  Being from a small town, it’s no secret that you got pregnant and had to drop out of college.  It’s a huge struggle to be a single mother.  What advice do you have for other women who might be going through the same thing?” Lisa asks as she bends her head and goes back to clacking away at her keyboard.

Lovely.  I bang a guy at a frat party, get knocked up, and have to work at a bar to make ends meet.  The only other option available to me at the time had been pregnant stripping.  Is this really something the people of “The Best of Baking” want to know?  They seem like a conservative group - ones who talk about petit fours and balsamic reductions, not beer pong and vagina pounding.

“Um, yeah.  I’m definitely not the best person to come to for advice in that area,” I tell her honestly.  “I did everything wrong.  Luckily, Gavin’s father is an amazing man and we were able to find our way back to one another.  I honestly don’t know what I would do without him.  I can’t imagine my life without him in it.”

Shit!  Can I retract that statement?!  That sounds entirely too much like saying I want to spend the rest of my life with him.  Which I do.  But he can’t know that.  He’ll freak out like a guy.  Which he is.  When he reads this, his mind is immediately going to go to marriage and he’ll probably start screaming.  CHANGE THE SUBJECT, CLAIRE!

“Also, I like to watch a lot of porn.”

NO, NO, NO!  ABORT MISSION!  What the fuck am I supposed to be talking about?  Oh, right.  Advice.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth or he’ll bite the hand that feeds you.”

Oh sweet Jesus I just became my mother.

Lisa doesn’t show any signs of thinking she's talking to a lunatic. She just keeps on typing.  It's starting to freak me out.

Is she seriously typing every single thing I say?  I suddenly have the urge to scream the words “ANAL WARTS” just to see if she keeps right on clicking away without batting an eye.

I want to ask her if she heard me say I was addicted to porn.  Maybe the noise of kids playing around us or Gavin’s loud huffing and sighing block out what I said.  Obviously, I can’t bring it up and ask if she heard me because if she hasn't, she’ll want me to repeat it.  And knowing me, I will repeat it to be polite and that will just fuck up this entire freak out I'm currently having.

I am hereby restricting the word “porn” from my vocabulary.  It’s getting me into too much trouble.

Lisa stops typing and gives me the universal one-finger, hold on a minute sign as she answers her ringing cell phone.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter.

“You said a bad word,” Gavin informs me.

“I’m allowed. I’m an adult.”

“I wanna be a dolt!” he says excitedly.

A few minutes later, Lisa ends her call and turns her attention to Gavin.

“How about I ask you some questions now?  Would that be okay?”

“Sure,” he says with a shrug.

“Do you have a nickname?  Can I call you Gav?” Lisa asks.

“Can I punch you in the face?” he asks.

“Gavin!” I scold.

“What’s your favorite color?” Lisa asks, both of them ignoring me.

“I like green.  Green is green.  I fart green.”

Oh wonderful.  This is turning out to be a stellar interview.

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Skabetti and meat balls.  Balls are delicious!” Gavin exclaims.

Lisa and I both share a snicker over that one.

“If Phineas and Ferb and Spongebob got into a fight, who would win?” Lisa questions.

Gavin thinks about this for a minute before answering.

“Spongebob ‘cuz he’s a big tough man.  Phineas and Ferb are dumber than his wee-wee.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head.  This interview has officially gone in the shitter.

“What is your favorite holiday?”

“Fart.”

“Gavin,” I warn.

“What’s your favorite animal?”

“Sheep, ‘cuz they’re stupid,” Gavin answers with a laugh.

“What’s your favorite smell?”

Oh that’s a super question to ask a four-year-old who just said his favorite holiday is passing gas.

“Smelly cat.  And feet,” Gavin says with a giggle.

“What’s your favorite song?” Lisa continues.

Please don’t say “99 Problems But the Bitch Ain’t One” or I will smother Carter in his sleep for downloading that to his iPod.

“SMELLY CAT, SMELLY CAT, WHAT ARE THEY FEEDING YOU!” Gavin sings as loud as he can.

“How do you even know that song?” I ask him.

Gavin replies with a shrug.

“You like to say big people words a lot.  How come?” Lisa asks.

“'Cuz I like it. 'Cuz I’m a man.”

“I’ve heard you like to talk about your wiener a lot.  Why do you do that?”

‘Cuz it’s stupid.  I crapped my pants.”

Gavin laughs out loud at himself.

“Excuse me?  You know you aren’t supposed to say that word,” I scold.

“I can’t say the s-h-p word either.  What the heck am I ‘sposed to say?” Gavin asks with a roll of his eyes.

This is what I have to deal with.  Am I supposed to correct him when he spells “shit” wrong?  Why the fuck hasn’t anyone printed a parenting handbook yet?

“What’s your favorite thing to do?”

“Fart in everyone’s face,” Gavin says in between giggles.  “FART!”

“You sure like to say ‘fart’ a lot,” Lisa says with a laugh.

“’Cuz I like saying it forever, punk!”

I put my elbow on the table and my head in my hand.  There is no point in even trying to put a stop to this train wreck.

“What do you like better, cookies or girls?” Lisa questions.

“My mommy makes yummy cookies.  Girls are stupid.  Except for Mommy ‘cuz she has boobs,” Gavin replies earnestly.

“Gee, thanks, sweetie,” I mumble as I lift my head and glance at Lisa to see if she looks as horrified as I feel.

“When you grow up, who do you want to marry?”

Obviously, the fact that any chance at a Pulitzer for this interview is long gone doesn’t matter one iota to this woman.