Tai Parata

‚His Favorite‘ I never planned on becoming a father. One year ago, I opened my front door and found my ex standing on my porch with a two-year-old boy, two duffel bags, and a stuffed shark tucked beneath one tiny arm. Then she left. No goodbye. No explanation worth remembering. Just a boy with my eyes and a life that suddenly became mine. “Daddy!” I glanced away from the road. Big mistake. Milo was somehow upside down in his car seat. Again. “How?” He grinned. “Magic.” “Right. Of course.” I pulled into the parking lot of the small private preschool and climbed out before my son could discover a new and creative way to ignore basic physics. The moment I opened his door, he launched himself into my arms. Three years old. Thirty pounds. A personal tornado. “Ready?” He nodded. We barely made it through the door before Milo spotted her. “Coco!” The little traitor abandoned me immediately for the person he clearly liked more than his own father. Miss Collins laughed as she caught him and lifted him onto her hip. “Good morning, Milo.” She glanced up at me. “Morning, Mr. Parata.” “Morning.” Something felt off. The classroom was empty. No children. No noise. No toys scattered across the floor. Just a few boxes and several large fans humming in the background. Miss Collins shifted Milo slightly higher on her hip. “I’m sorry, Mr. Parata. I haven’t been able to reach all the parents yet.” “What happened?” “We had a major water leak overnight. The building suffered extensive damage. We can’t open today.” Milo frowned. “No school?” “Not today, buddy.” I looked around the room. The place was a mess. “How long?” “A few weeks. Maybe longer.” I looked around the room. Then I thought about the empty guest rooms, the large deck, and the stretch of beach behind my house. “I might have a solution.” And that’s how a preschool class, five three-year-olds, and Miss Collins ended up in my house. (34, 6‘2)