Episode Sixty-Seven: Say It Isn't So"Ahh," she screeched, raising her arms in celebration as though Ed McMahon had landed on her doorstep instead of plain old Bowie, a guy sheíd seen practically everyday since first grade. "Come in, come in! Youíre officially my first guest, here, let me take your coat, we have a coat rack, itís antique, I think it belonged to Jean Harlow, amazing!"
"Yeah, so whereís the kid?" He was so furious over having to be in Sebastianís home, having to see them in Sebastianís home that he didnít actually look at anything until he nearly tripped over the sofa. "Itís cloudy outside, why donít you have any lights on in here?"
Lila scurried about diving into a drawer for a book of matches and she began lighting candles. "I love candlelight donít you? Itís um, great, um ambition, isnít it?
"Ambience," he corrected her and put his lighter to better use helping her, he placed them high up knowing it would never occur to Lila that Jesse could get into some trouble there.
"Ambience, itís pretty, hey Jess," she said to the child scooping him up as he ran into the room. "Look whoís here to play?" The little boyís first inclination was to reach over his motherís shoulders and push the light switch on. "Donít!" She whisper shouted and smacked his hand; Jesse began to cry until he was in the safety of Bowieís arms.
"Here bud, I brought one of your favorite Root Beer lollipops, go put the wrapper in the garbage while I talk to your mom," Bowie suggested and then turned on Lila, demanding, "Whatís wrong with you? For godís sake, he was only turning on a light,"
"This is my house, my rules, and that is my son;" she said angrily and embarrassed.
"If this was your house you could turn on the lights Lilac, does he make you crawl along the floor too so no one can see you through the windows? What a swell Prince of a guy youíre letting your son live with, this is sure what dreams are made of, isnít it?"