Isaac gave Xavier a long look.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s two thirty in the morning over there,” Xavier replied in a ‘duh’ voice.
Isaac checked his watch.
“Oh yeah, it is too. Think I should wake her up anyway?”
“Only if you want her to wake you up at two thirty in the morning.”
“She would too,” he grinned.
“And probably on a day when she knows you really wanna go to sleep.”
Their eyes met.
“And they think I’m around Babsie too much,” Isaac commented.
Xavier laughed.
“So, are we going to continue this guitar lesson before we have to go to that press conference, or are you planning on moping over Mum being in Australia instead?” he asked innocently.
Isaac glanced at his watch, then at his son.
“Actually, you should probably start getting ready now. Christine will blow her top if you’re still dressed like that.”
Xavier looked pained.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“You’ve still got remains from last night’s dinner stuck to it.”
“But I don’t wanna get changed!”
“Xavier!” a voice called.
“Oh no,” groaned the eleven-year-old.
“Hi Christine,” Isaac said, greeting the stylist. “Xavier was just about to get changed.”
“This is so unfair! I’m only a little kid!” Xavier objected.
Christine wrinkled her nose.
“Maybe you should hit the showers too, Xavier.”
Xavier stared at her, wide eyed. Then he jumped up, bounded over to the joining bathroom and literally hit the shower, then came back.
“I hit it!” he said gleefully. “Of course, I kinda feel bad, ‘cause the shower can’t defend itself.”