“It’th not from another dimenthion?”
Dimension? Where do they learn these things? “No. Well, yes. But only Japan.” Patrick ran his fingers through the boy’s hair. “Where’s your sister? I suppose she’s awake, too?”
Maisie’s face appeared around the door, like she was one of the von Trapp children in a thunderstorm. Patrick bit his lip. God help him if he had to do a verse of “My Favorite Things.”
“Come here. I want to show you everything that my new washlet can do.”
Maisie crept forward in her cat pajamas. “What’s a washlet?”
“Well, it’s like a toilet. But better.”
“How do you know it’s better?”
“Because it’s Japanese and it cost more than my first car. Look, watch what it does.” Patrick stood up and approached the washlet. When he got close enough to trigger the sensor, the lid softly rose.
Maisie said, “Whoa,” while Grant still looked on with skepticism.
“And that’s not all. Check this out.” Patrick opened the drawer to the high-gloss floating sink cabinet and produced a remote control. The toilet lid lowered itself.
“Is that for the toilet?” Maisie asked.
“No, it’s for the washlet.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Well, if I have to explain it to you!” Patrick threw his arms up, exasperated. “First, there’s the sleek, porcelain design. Have you ever seen anything like it?”
“It looks like you keep dinosaur eggs inside,” Grant observed. And it strangely made sense.
“Yeah. Isn’t it great? It has ionized water, a UV light, music speakers, a heated seat, the aforementioned night-light to guide your way in the dark, and a twelve-setting wash and dry feature with”—he waved the remote in his hand to end with a flourish—“remote control. Ta-daa!” Maybe he could rewrite the song with his own favorite things. He sang to himself: Ionized water in remote-sensored washlets.
“It does laundry?” Maisie was confused.
“What? No. That’s disgusting.”
“But you said washer and dryer.”
“Wash and dry feature,” Patrick corrected.
“What does it wash and dry?”
“YOU! Isn’t that fantastic?”
“I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand?” He handed Maisie the remote so that she could see it and Grant nuzzled into her side to get a good look himself. The remote was covered in illustrated buttons; some, including one with an aggressive swirl that looked like a symbol the Weather Channel might employ for a Category 5 hurricane, Patrick hadn’t yet dare try. “Well, truth be told, I don’t understand all of it. That button right there looks needlessly hostile, and I think I read in the manual that this other one is for ‘front cleaning,’ and I don’t think that applies to boys. But you can give it a whirl and report back.”
“I have to pee.”
Patrick looked down at his nephew, who was holding his crotch. Of course. This whole midnight powwow was precipitated by something.
“Step right up, boy!” he said, summoning his best carnival barker, a sort of Pee Pee Barnum.
“Will you wait right here?” All this explanation and the boy was still scared. Patrick vowed to show him the issue of Consumer Reports so Grant could become more acquainted.
“Of course.”
Grant stepped into the bathroom, freezing in his tracks when the lid rose by itself.
“Go on! That’s its way of welcoming you.”
Patrick and Maisie turned away to give Grant his privacy.
“I still don’t understand how it washes you,” she grumbled.
“Oh. It has a retractable cleansing wand. That’s what the remote is for. When you’re done, you know, it squirts you with clean water and you can select the temperature and the pressure.”
“Squirts you . . . where?”
Patrick rubbed his temples, but Grant thankfully interrupted. “How do you flush it?”
“I got it, bud!” He leaned down, hovered his finger over the remote control until he found the right button, and said to Maisie, “Press that one,” and she did.
“Cooooool!” Grant said, his face over the bowl. “It’th lighting up again!” Patrick guessed he was over his fear of ghosts.
Maisie however was not as easily distracted. She still looked up at her uncle for an answer to her question.
“Where? You know. You’re going to make me say it? Your undercarriage.” Patrick felt like he was losing her. “Here, give me that.” He reached out and took the remote control and stepped into the bathroom. “Grant. Want to see something else really cool? Put your face over the bowl.” Patrick glanced over his shoulder to make sure Maisie was watching.
“What am I looking for?” Grant asked.
“Watch.” Patrick pressed one of the buttons and the cleansing wand slowly extended.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like a robot.” Grant was transfixed.
“Keep looking.” Patrick studied the remote until he found another button to press and the wand spritzed water, squirting Grant in the face.
Grant screamed. And just as Patrick had hoped, Maisie laughed.
“You spwayed me!”
“Here, kid.” Patrick tossed Grant a hand towel and it landed right on his face.
“That’s tho gross!” He reached up, wiping the towel back and forth across his face.
“It’s clean water. It doesn’t come from the toilet. It comes from the wall. Just like the sink faucet.”
Grant pulled the towel off his head to consider this. His hair stood in a gratifying swoop. Slowly, a smile crept across his face. “Do Maisie! Do Maisie!”
Patrick expected an immediate protest but instead Maisie agreed it was a delightful idea. “Yeah, do me, do me!”
“Suit yourself, stand over the—” He didn’t even have to finish; Maisie’s head was already in position over the bowl and so he gave the button a good, long push. Maisie screamed as the water hit her right in the kisser and Grant squealed with rapturous delight. He hadn’t heard such laughter out of anyone in, he couldn’t recall. A long time. Once, when he first held Maisie (she was maybe three months old), she burst out laughing. He didn’t even know babies could do that—laugh—and even though he felt awkward holding her with all eyes in the room on him, he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by this new bit of information.