Clark went through phases. Jonathan had read enough to know that it was normal, nothing to be concerned about.

Clark had a space phase, where he recited random facts about all of the planets to anyone who would listen—Jonathan was thankful he'd never told his son he was an alien, or that phase might have been complicated. He had an airplane phase, during which he checked out stacks of books on planes from the library and folded so many paper airplanes that it was becoming a struggle to sneak them away to the recycling center just due to sheer volume. He had a bug phase, which Martha hated, where he'd bring in little critters he found around the farm and let them crawl around on the dining room table. Most recent was his dinosaur phase, which consisted of him drawing dinosaurs and, occasionally, acting like them.

So when Clark started coming home from school talking about Lana, his cheeks turning a little pink every time he did, Jonathan wondered if it was another phase. If it was, though, it was lasting a long time. It started at the end of his bug phase, went straight through the planes, and showed no signs of stopping, straight on through his obsession with dinosaurs.

Jonathan wondered how it would play out around Valentine's Day. He trusted that Martha would have it in hand, but to his dismay, she informed him that he was going to be the one who attended the school party and helped with the kids.

"Why me?" Jonathan asked, his insides squirming a little. "Isn't that more . . . you know, for the moms?"

"Excuse me?" Martha crossed her arms.

He backpedaled. "No, no, it's just . . . you're so much better with this kind of thing. And Valentine's Day . . ."

"I have a lunch date with Nell Potter. I've had it in the family calendar for a month, haven't you looked?"

"Of course I have." That was a half truth, since he'd skimmed it; it wasn't technically a lie.

"I took him to the Halloween parade, the Thanksgiving banquet, the Christmas party, the New Year's countdown, and the MLK day celebration. It's your turn."

Jonathan had missed that there even was a MLK day celebration at Clark's school. He swallowed hard. "I can take him. But . . ."

"But what?"

"I'm, ah, not sure . . . not sure he'll want me to go. He might want you."

Martha shrugged and took the few steps out of the kitchen, glancing over into the living room, where Clark sat playing with a couple of plastic dinosaurs. "Clark?"

"Yeah, Mommy?"

"Do you want Daddy to take you to the Valentine's Day party?"

He dropped the dinosaurs and rocketed a couple of feet into the air. "YAYYY!" he shouted, and he launched himself into Jonathan's arms, causing Jonathan to grunt with the sudden force. "Yay, yay, yaaaayyy!"

So that settled it.

Money was tight that year, in part thanks to the destructive force that had been Clark's early tantrums—though Martha and Jonathan agreed they would never, ever let him know that. Unfortunately, it did mean that store-bought Valentine's weren't an option.

Jonathan was impressed—Martha managed to phrase it to Clark in such a way that he actually seemed excited about making his own Valentine's by hand, and she also offered to make cupcakes for his class. He hovered beside her as she frosted them. "Can you put dinosaurs on them?" he asked.

"I'm not sure I know how to make a dinosaur with frosting."

"But Mom—"

"I can do hearts?"

"But hearts aren't cool."

Jonathan cleared his throat. "But Valentine's Day isn't about dinosaurs, son."

"I knoww." Clark pouted.

Martha frowned and tipped Clark's chin up a bit. "Which do you think Lana would like better on the cupcakes?"

"Dinosaurs."

"Really?"

"Dinosaurs are cool."

Jonathan stifled a laugh—it had been a good try on Martha's part.

"Well, tell you what," she said. "I'll dye the frosting green, and we can say they're dinosaur hearts. How is that?"

Clark nodded emphatically.

Since his dad was going to be attending the party with him, he wouldn't accept his mom's help with the Valentine's. Jonathan ended up having to trade some chores with Martha the day before the party and work indoors more, because Clark kept calling him over to ask him questions every few minutes. He'd brought home a list of the names of students in his class, and he set to work drawing dinosaurs for each of them and writing their names.

He paused when he had checked off every name on the list but one. "Daddy! I need help!"

Jonathan sighed and put down the laundry basket to come over and sit across from Clark. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know how to make Lana's card."

Ah. Jonathan should have suspected this might be a challenge. "You really like her, don't you?"

Clark nodded, his cheeks turning pink.

"Well, just tell her how you feel."

"How I feel?"

"Yeah. You want to be honest with her, but you don't want to overwhelm her. You know, let her know what she means to you, but . . . you don't want to come on too strong."

Clark's brow furrowed. "How do I do that?"

"Well, think about how you feel when she's around. Be honest, and be brave, but you don't want to say too much all at once. If she feels the same way about you, you'll have plenty of time to tell her more. Right now, it's probably best if you make friends with her."

Clark nodded. "Okay, Daddy."

He looked back down at his paper, scrunched up his face, and wrote very carefully. He worked for a solid half an hour on the one card. When he looked up, he smiled. "Done!"

"Can I see it?"

Clark shook his head. "Noo, it's a secret."

Jonathan sighed. "Fine. Go put your crayons away."

"Okay."

While Clark was up in his room, Jonathan couldn't resist sneaking a peak at the card. It was just a picture of a dinosaur, with five words:

LANA

I LIK YOU

CLARK

Jonathan's heart swelled. It was perfect.

The classroom was decked out with pink and white balloons and streamers. Kids walked from desk to desk delivering their pre-printed Valentines and candy. Clark passed out the green heart cupcakes—they were the only thing in the classroom that didn't match the color scheme.

Jonathan was the only dad there. He smiled and nodded to some of the moms, but he felt incredibly out of place.

Clark didn't think so. He kept running back to Jonathan and showing him individual Valentines he'd received from other students. Jonathan smiled and nodded each time, and pushed him to finish giving out his own cards to the other kids, since he was running behind. When he was down to just Lana's card, he came back to Jonathan and buried his head in his dad's side.

Jonathan knelt down, putting a hand on Clark's little shoulder. "What's wrong, son?"

"I don't want to give it to her," he whispered.

"Why not?"

"I just don't."

Jonathan squeezed the boy's shoulder—he couldn't blame him for being nervous, but he didn't want Clark to get in the habit of running away from his fears, either. "Well, if you don't give it to her, she'll have a Valentine from everyone except you. And then she might think you don't like her."

"Oh no!"

"So go put it on her desk."

Clark shook his head, pulling away.

"Clark—"

"What if other kids see it?"

"Well, maybe you should give it to her instead of putting it on her desk."

"You mean talk to her?"

"You don't have to talk. You could just hand it to her." Jonathan had just assumed they were friends and talked to each other; he hadn't realized this was the type of crush where Clark avoided ever going near her.

Clark took a deep breath. "Okay Daddy." He picked up the last card and handed Jonathan his basket, then went over to Lana, clutching the card in both hands.

Lana was delivering her last few cards when Clark approached her. She smiled sweetly. "Hi, Clark!"

Clark's hold on the card tightened, and his face scrunched up. His skin almost seemed to turn green, and he whimpered and dropped the card.

Lana took a step back. "Are you okay?"

Clark ran back to his dad, leaping into his arms.

Jonathan picked him up. "What's wrong, son?"

"My tummy hurts and my skin is all crawly and it hurts."

"I see." Jonathan smiled to himself and rubbed the boy's back. "Your heart is beating really fast?"

Clark nodded.

"You feel sweaty?"

"Yeah." Clark buried his face in Jonathan's shoulder.

Jonathan rocked him gently and kissed the side of his head. The kid was deeper in love than Jonathan had realized.

While Jonathan waited for Clark's shaking to calm, he glanced up at Lana, who was worriedly watching Clark. She looked down at her feet, where the card had fallen. It was wrinkled and torn in places from Clark gripping it, but she opened the card, squinted at the words—she seemed to be sounding them out.

Her cheeks turned pink, and she smiled.