by Lorri Horn
As they were driving along, he realized that they’d taken these trips before. He loved taking them with his dad and how they traveled together on the open road. In his dream they were driving together and Dewey felt happy—because they were together.
When he woke up, darkness filled his room, but the light of the moon seeped through the sides of his blackout shades. He wrote the dream down by turning on his phone and emailing the details of it to himself, so he wouldn’t forget it in the morning.
“I’ve got it,” he said aloud to the moonlit darkness. “I know the solution.”
Tiny Developments
Every year since Dewey began preschool, they’d driven the same route to school past one set of deciduous trees.
The west coast of the country doesn’t really have seasons in the way the rest of the country does, but he and his mom could track them by this one stretch of tree-lined houses where the leaves would, like clockwork, start to turn colors at the start of school, begin to fall at Halloween, go barren for winter, and bring green little buds of new growth in the spring.
The trees stayed the same height, but Dewey grew and grew each year, and this year, when the little green buds of spring came to life, Dewey Fairchild had grown enough to help solve his own father’s problem.
Dewey’s dad was bored, and he needed a change.
Dewey may have been gifted in his field—an accomplished parent problem solver—but it was Clara who helped him understand kids are not meant to parent their own parents.
“Dewey, my boy. Sir. You’ve done marvelous work here. You cracked the case. Now, it’s time for Wolfie and me to step in.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m in charge now. Coffee break time. Take a load off. Take ten. Sabbatical. Shore leave. Go put your feet up.”
“Shore leave?” Dewey laughed. “OK. See what you guys can do. My fate is in your hands. And my teeth are in your cookies. I’m starving.”
With that, he prepared to work on some other clients’ cases and eat some lemon basil cookies.
“No, no, noo,” she said, packing up his cookies in a little to-go pack. “Off you go. I don’t want to see hide nor hair of you for a week.”
Wolfie was nudging him along toward the door with his nose.
“What? Really? You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack. Now go. Do something enjoyable. Read a good book. Knit. Build a model plane. Paint a masterpiece. Write a novel. Plant a—”
“OK, OK. I get the idea!”
“Wait. One message. Georgina called. Allergies. And acid reflux. Her father’s on the road to health. Just thought you’d want to know.”
“Yeah. That’s good news,” he replied distractedly. Truthfully, he could hardly take it in. He hadn’t expected this development regarding his own business with Clara. But she looked like she meant business. Exhausted from staying up late, he was all too pleased to go off and do nothing but munch cookies, play some games with Colin on his computer, and not try to fix anyone or anything for a while.
Seraphina paced back and forth in her room. She hadn’t heard anything from Dewey in quite some time, and, really, she couldn’t think of anything she felt like doing.
She sent him a text but got no reply. He didn’t always have his phone with him so that might not mean anything. They weren’t at an age where they carried them around like older kids did.
She’d have to wait to run into him at lunch or pass him a note in Spanish.
Seraphina liked to collect rocks, and she pulled out her collection to see if she could organize the ones already on her dresser by color gradation today.
She had her basic igneous, sedimentary, and metamorphic categories of rocks and liked to move them around sometimes based on size and texture and other times by their color.
Her phone buzzed on her desk and the vibration of it against the wood laminate startled her and made her jump.
She saw a picture of Dewey with her house address numbers behind him.
Confused, she just sat looking at it.
Then he texted:
Knock, knock!
Oh! He was at her front door!
Coming!
She texted back and ran down to open the door for him.
“Hi! Come in,” she said, and she stepped back, realizing that he wasn’t alone but was petting a rather large dog on her porch.
“Yours, I assume?” he said.
“No!” she replied with surprise as she leaned over to pet the friendly beast as well.
His—or was it her?—fur was apricot colored with a white chest. The dog probably stood as tall as a yardstick in Seraphina’s estimation. She’d never seen such a large dog!
“Where did you find her?”
Dewey peered under the large, 200-pound dog’s frame. “Um, I’m going with him.”
“Ha! Great, Dewey. Good to know. OK then. Where did you find him?”
“Right here. On your porch. That’s why I thought he was yours.”
“Well, I can assure you he’s not. There’s no way in—” At that moment, the dog shook his massive head and drool flew all over Dewey and Seraphina.
“Ewww!” They both exclaimed.
Seraphina regretted it afterwards, though, because the dog looked big and sweet and friendly about it all.
“Hang on. I’ll be back with a towel!”
When she came back out, she found the dog sitting at Dewey’s feet.
“Does he have a collar?” she asked as she wiped herself off and handed Dewey the now slightly damp towel.
“Gee, thanks,” he said, trying to find a dry spot to use. “No. No collar. He sure is big and friendly, though.”
“Yeah, he’s kind of sweet,” she said, staying clear of his head in case he got any big ideas again. She petted the bottom half of his body.
“Here,” she said to Dewey as she passed him one of Bigboy’s doggie treats. “Give him one of these.”
The treats were about the size of a cornflake and this dog’s tongue was about the size of Bigboy! He took the treat, but didn’t even seem to notice it was there.
“Give me those!” said Dewey, and he poured the entire bag of them into the dog’s mouth.
The dog chewed twice, gulped, and looked up with his eyes asking for more.
“Sorry, little guy, that’s all we’ve got,” said Dewey.
“Maybe we should walk around with him and see if anyone’s lost him.”
“That’s pretty funny, Seraphina. He’s a pretty big dog to lose, don’t you think?”
“Well, somebody obviously lost him. And he can’t just stay here!”
“Why don’t we take a picture of him and print out some signs?” suggested Dewey. “That might be easier than trying to figure out how to haul him around the neighborhood.”
“Good idea. Do you think we can just leave him alone out here?”
“Sure. I found him that way.”
As soon as they went inside though, the large dog began to whine and cry. And then he heaved up his big body and jumped up on the screen door.
“Oh no! Get him down!” cried Seraphina. “He’s going to break the door.”
“Better bring him in with us,” reasoned Dewey.
“Oh boy. Oh boy. OK.”
The mastiff followed them in, and despite Seraphina’s concerns, did not swallow the flat screen TV or the dining room table and just settled down again at their feet while they worked. They searched online until they found dogs that looked like him and concluded he must be a mastiff.
Found: Apricot Big Dog. Looks like a Mastiff (?) located near Anvil Drive, male. Please call or text 555-555-2222
Seraphina’s parents wouldn’t want her plastering her address all over the place, but this should work fine. They took the pooch’s
picture, and they were just printing out the last signs when Seraphina’s mom came into the room.
“Oh! I see you’ve met Peewee!”
Seraphina’s face was blank as she tried to grasp the meaning of this development from her mother. Her mother knew this dog?
“I need to put this collar on him. Come here, Peewee,” Seraphina’s mother said and proceeded to put a collar the size of one of Seraphina’s dad’s belts around the dog’s neck.
“Seraphina, Peewee. Peewee, Seraphina. Dewey, this is Seraphina’s new dog, Peewee. He’s charmed to meet you, I’m sure. I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” she called out over her shoulder. “He eats like eight cups of food a day. I need to go get some more. The shelter only gave us one meal’s worth to get us started.”
“Whoa,” uttered Seraphina.
“Whoa,” repeated Dewey. “That’s a really big lap dog you got there, Seraphina.”
“Yeah,” said Seraphina, still too dazed to really believe that this small drooling horse was all hers for the snuggling.
“Um, well, Peewee, it looks like you’re no longer lost. You’ve been found,” she said a bit tentatively and pet him on the head, also a bit tentatively.
She noted gratefully that he didn’t always seem to shake his head in response. OK then, one thing at a time. Maybe she could grow a bigger lap.
Bringing it Home
Just like that, life had a way of offering the unexpected. Dewey, an average boy, who was averagely average, became one of the most sought after kids in town, Seraphina was now the proud owner of a dog the size of Canada, and Dewey and his family were moving to Alaska.
And then, just like that, just like that moment when the first little underarm hair pops out—and you think where the fruit did that come from?!—Dewey’s dad announced they weren’t moving, after all.
Dewey and his family all sat around the table Sunday evening. Dewey’s mom took away the ketchup bottle as Dewey drowned his fries in ketchup.
“Aw, come on, Mom,” objected Dewey.
“Dr. Jay says children under the age of eighteen shouldn’t be allowed to operate heavy ketchup or syrup bottles.”
“Hmph,” said Dewey, but he smiled. He loved his pediatrician.
His dad clinked his glass with his fork and spoke, “Gang, I have some big news. The plans have changed, and it’s big. I’m going to need everyone’s support. I’m quitting my job. I’ve given this a lot of thought.
“I don’t want to be a dentist. The good news is you don’t have to go to Alaska. The tougher news is I’m going back to school, and we’re all going to have to pitch in a bit for me to do so.”
That wasn’t “tougher” news. The resounding cheers and applause heard round the table, and the world, from that one little family could have powered an army to victory.
Their father felt humbled both by how much they obviously had not wanted to go, and also by their support, and he began to tear up. He put down his fork. So did Dewey and the others, except Pooh Bear who was working very diligently on attaching a pea to each prong of hers.
“I’ve always wanted to teach math. It’s been in my heart and been my passion. No one ever told me I could. I just didn’t ever consider it a real choice that I could make.”
Dewey’s mother went over to her husband and gave him a long kiss on the cheek and hugged him around the back of his shoulders.
“What made you change your mind?” she asked.
“You know,” he said, “I can’t really go into it right now.”
Dewey could have sworn right then that he caught his father shoot the slightest glance his way—and that he saw traces of cookie crumbs on his chin.
“But I’ll say this much. I was never a very happy kid in school. And I think I can be a much better teacher to kids than the teachers I had growing up. I think I can make it enjoyable and applicable. Who knows? Maybe we’ll even blow some things up while we’re at it.”
Say, this gave Dewey an idea. His dad wasn’t the only one miserable in school. Curing parents’ problems might just be the beginning. Maybe next year he’d start branching out. He had a feeling the kids might be lining up for him to cure their teacher problems!
“Does this mean I don’t have to help Dewey with his math anymore?” asked Stephanie.
“Oh, sure,” replied Dewey. “If you call sitting on me building my math skills, then you’ve been amazing.”
Everyone laughed and Mom patted Dewey on the head.
They weren’t going to Alaska. He group texted Seraphina and Colin: Best news, ever! Not moving to Alaska!!!!!!! It felt so good to have friends.
Just what, he wondered, had Clara said and done to bring it all, well, home?
He looked over at his dad and smiled. “I’m glad we’re not going to Alaska, Dad. All in all, I think this has been an A+ day.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lorri Horn, born and raised in California, has been working with kids all her life. She got her first babysitting job when she was nine years old, became a camp counselor, and went on to be a teacher. It’s true she did eat all of the pickles and popsicles on her first babysitting gig, but she did manage to feed that kid a cheese and pickle sandwich before polishing off the rest of the jar herself. No one complained. Evidently, she had a knack with kids.
Lorri spent a few years studying cercopithecus aethiops (vervet monkeys) and thought she’d be a famous biological anthropologist. But it turns out you have to rough it and camp to do that kind of job, and Lorri’s more of a pillow-top mattress and no bug-repellent kind of gal. Plus, while it was fascinating to study and observe our little non-human primate brothers and sisters lip-smacking to communicate things like “Oh, gee, I’m sorry, is that your branch?”, Lorri found it much more rewarding to share a good book with a kid. Not once did those vervets gather round for story-time.
So Lorri became an educator and an author for humans, who, admittedly, sometimes monkey around. She has a degree in English, a teaching credential, has been Nationally Board Certified, and has taught public school for over 14 years. She loves cheese (if she had to choose between cheese and chocolate on a deserted island, she’d have to say cheese—and that’s saying a whole lot, because she’s not sure how’d she live without chocolate), humor, baking, books, and spending time with her husband, son, and their dog—you guessed it—Wolfie.
Amberjack Publishing
228 Park Avenue S #89611
New York, NY 10003-1502
http://amberjackpublishing.com
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, fictitious places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Lorri Horn
Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, in part or in whole, in any form whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data
Names: Horn, Lorri, author.
Title: Dewey Fairchild , parent problem solver / Lorri Horn.
Description: New York, NY : Amberjack Pub., 2017.
Identifiers: 9781944995164 (hardcover) | 9781944995331 (ebk.) | LCCN 2016962763
Summary: Dewey Fairchild can solve any problem parents might cause their children. But what will Dewey do when the parents that are causing problems are his own?
Subjects: LCSH Parent and child--Juvenile fiction. | Self-actualization (Psychology)--Fiction. | Parenting--Juvenile fiction. | BISAC JUVENILE FICTION / Family / General
Classification: LCC PZ7 .H7888 De 2017 | DDC [Fic]--dc23
Cover Design & Illustrations: A
gnieszka Grochalska
