"Wait! Hold it!" a male voice shouts from around the corner.

I slam the stroller into my ankle trying to angle it away from the door. "Ow, sh-oot!"

"Hey, thanks," he says. I look up from my ankle. The rain has plastered his brown, chin-length hair and frayed blue T-shirt to his six-foot frame. Oh, my.

As the elevator closes he crouches down to speak directly to the stroller. "Hey, Grayer! Whassup?"

"She's wet." Grayer points behind him.

"Hi, wet girl. Are you Grayer's girlfriend?" He smiles at me, tucking his damp hair behind his ear.

"He's not sure if he's ready to make that kind of commitment," I say.

"Well, Grayer, don't let her get away." If you tried to catch me, I promise I would run very slowly.

We arrive at the ninth floor way too soon. "Have a great afternoon, guys," he says as we get out.

"You, too!" I cry as the door slides closed. Who are you?

"Grayer, who is he?" Stroller unclasped, wet shirt off.

"He lives upstairs. He goes to big boy's school." Shoes off, pants off, grab lunch bag.

"Oh, yeah? Which one?" Follow naked tush to bathroom, turn on tap.

He thinks for a moment. "Where the boats go. With the lighthouse." Okaaay. Two syllables, sounds like ...

"Harbor?" I query.

"Yeah, he goes to Harbard." Hello, I can totally do Boston, especially with the shuttle. We could alternate weekends ... Jesus! EARTH TO NANNY, COME IN, NANNY.'

"Okay, Grayer, let's get you in the tub." I heave him over the edge, letting go of my Harvard Hottie for the moment. ."Grayer, do you have a nickname?"

"What's a nickname?"

"A name that people call you that isn't Grayer."

"My name is Grayer X. That's my name."

"Well, let's think of one." I pop him in the tub and pass him his organic peanut butter and quince jelly sandwich. He wiggles his toes in the water as he munches the sandwich and I can tell it feels fabulously unorthodox to him. I look around the bathroom and my eyes land on his blue Sesame Street toothbrush.

"What about Graver?" I ask.

He mulls it over, his head cocked to one side, his Serious Thinking Face on, then nods. "We'll try it."

Lord, haw my head aches! What a head have I! My back a t'other side-ah, my back, my back! Beshrew your heart for sending me about To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

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