Arthur and his mother arrive, equally inquisitive, but the answer soon becomes clear. This is an opportunity for Peter to make everyone uncomfortable and Cynthia to think she’s accomplished something. When precious little Arthur, who looks exactly like you thought he looked (non-aardvark version), comes in and spots Peter, this happens:
Arthur: Nice to meet you, Peter.
Peter: Excuse me?
Arthur: [slightly less confident] Nice to meet you, Peter.
Peter: Did you say Peter?
Arthur: Mr. Peter.
Peter: Mr. Thomas would be nice.
Listen, I’m a strong proponent of always calling your elders by their honorifics and will only call my friend’s parents Mr. and Ms. unless they’re the type to be really pushy about it – “Call me Karen. CALL ME KAREN.” – but Peter is just being a twerp. Arthur might not even know his last name, a challenge I’ve come upon many a time with friend’s stepparents. Ugh,
Peter Mr. Thomas.
They all sit down on one side of the table and Arthur’s mom looks reasonably confused as to why they’re having a dowry meeting over two 7th graders who are trying to hold hands every once in a while. After Peter rambles for a bit he randomly asks Arthur, “Are you staring me down?” Arthur, future badass, responds, “I just feel like it’s respectful for me to look at you while you talk.” The Bearded One says he actually likes that, and finally Peter and I have something in common: We’re both Team Arthur.
Checking in on "The Real Real Estate Professionals of Atlanta": Porsha goes with her mom and her sister to meet Marco the realtor and check out what I think is the exact same condo Kenya saw a few weeks ago. Marco is wearing a Bluetooth and sunglasses on his head just in case anyone was thinking about forgetting that he’s a realtor. The condo has truly the widest-screen TV I have ever seen. Everyone would look like the aliens from Toy Story on that thing. But it doesn’t matter because $4,500 a month would basically take up all of Porsha’s spousal support and she’s happy to just keep living with her mom. Frankly, if her mom wants her there, it’s kind of a responsible decision until she lands on her feet. She could stand to be a little less annoying about how spoiled she is, though.
Across state lines, Phaedra has finally arrived at her study group in Alabama. Seriously, in what other Real Housewives franchise could the DVR description be, “[housewife] goes to [anywhere] to study?” I’ll just break down this little Community-gone-weird scenario by Phaedra’s classmates:
Bush: Clearly the stud/Jeff of the group, Bush struts around in a Steve Harvey suit making bold declarations like, “I love autopsy!”
Whitney: Try as she might, the academically minded "Annie" could only successfully get Phaedra to focus long enough to answer one question. But she’s learning how to have fun and let loose, and isn’t that the most important lesson in Alabama mortuary school?
Amber: Indefinable like Abed, Whitney was giving Phaedra a run for her money, sharing an anecdote about working at a black mortuary firm and all of the men leaving their families to come to sit by her because, as Phaedra says, she’s “a little thick like a pork chop.” I take it back -- no one could ever steal Phaedra’s crown.
Unnamed White Woman: Britta
I would watch that show.
NEXT: Mama Joyce prepares for battle