Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“Any idea where this goes?”
Henry pointed at the refrigerator. “Abba ya da.”
“You’re a smart kid, but I’m not gonna take your advice on that one. Something tells me I’ll get in big trouble if I put this in the fridge.” I opened the side door off the kitchen and found the trash bins. “Now we’re in business. Stay here, buddy.”
He followed me.
It was one step. No problem for an adventurous toddler on the go, but I kept my eyes glued to him in case he lost his balance. When he reached my side, I opened the bin…the wrong one. I moved away from the recyclables to the regular bin, turning my back for less than two seconds.
Two seconds. That was all it took for him to strip to nothing but a T-shirt.
Great.
Henry gave me a toothy grin, offering me his clean diaper. “Dababa.”
I took it, heaving a sigh as I kneeled beside him. “Thanks. Um…thing is…I have no idea where the other diapers are and I can’t go upstairs ’cause I might accidentally wake up your sister. So…we need to put this on you, buddy. What do ya say?”
“Ja ma la.”
Five minutes of twisting and wiggling later…success. But not quite. The tabs lost their adhesive integrity somewhere in Henry’s struggle to be a nudist, so I had to get creative. Scotch tape and masking tape didn’t work.
Shoot me now.
I hunted through the kitchen junk drawer—you know, the secret messy one where you find anything from pens and stale packets of gum to safety pins and—boom!…duct tape. Not a logical choice, but these were desperate times.
I cut two long strips off and sent up a silent prayer I was nearing the end of the diaper disaster.
Thank fuck, the silver duct tape did the trick. I had no idea what happened to the shorts he was wearing earlier, and it didn’t seem particularly important. All I knew was that we both deserved a treat after that ordeal.
“Cookies or beer?”
Henry cocked his head as though considering the options. “Coo coo.”
“All right, you win. Beer later.”
I raided the cupboards, then gathered a pile of books and sat against the sofa. Henry jibber-jabbered his approval as he nestled onto my lap, cookie in hand, and settled in for a story or ten.
I didn’t notice the time after that. It flew by in a rapid succession of books about bunnies and puppies and a mouse who liked cookies as much as Henry. When he finally dozed off in the middle of a riveting tale about a bear named Zeb, I carefully rescued the half-eaten cookie from his grubby mitts and closed my eyes.
“Wake up,” Jay whispered.
I blinked awake just as Peter plucked his sleeping son from my lap. “Thank you, man. We owe you one.”
“Uh…what happened? Is Holly okay?”
Aaron kissed my forehead. “She’s asleep and we’re off duty. Come on, Matty. Let’s go home.”
We were quiet on the drive back to DC. I couldn’t speak for Aaron, but I was exhausted. I was content to let the miles tick by in a blur of greenery and white lines on the interstate while Aaron gazed thoughtfully out the passenger side window, humming along to whatever was on the radio. He seemed more pensive than usual, but he was probably beat too.
“How are you doing?” I asked, reaching for his hand across the console.
Aaron squeezed my fingers as he shifted to face me. “Great. I feel terrible for Jay, though.”
“Why? You were the one who got barfed on.”
“I know, but he felt so guilty.”
“Well…it was traumatic for me too,” I half joked.
Aaron snickered. “I can’t believe you used duct tape for his diaper.”
“I was freaking MacGyver back there. I haven’t been that stressed since I took the bar.”
His contagious laughter made it impossible to keep a straight face. I chuckled in spite of myself as I checked the rearview mirror.
“You were a superstar, Matty,” he gushed.
I flashed a bright grin his way but didn’t quite manage to keep the panic from my voice when I added, “Please tell me you’re not ready to have kids yet.”
“Oh God, no.”
“Phew.”
“But you know, today was good for me,” he continued conversationally. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own head, worrying about things I never had control over to begin with. I’ve been beating myself up…telling myself I’ve lost my edge and that I’m a failure and—”
“Jesus, Aar.” I scowled, veering toward the exit. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I know. It makes no sense whatsoever. I’m amazing.”
“And humble.”
His low chuckle ended on a sigh. “I have to admit, this low-grade depression has been eating at me for a while. I’ve been struggling, and I haven’t been able to figure out why. I don’t necessarily have an answer, but I think I’ve been hanging on to disappointment. Days like today remind me to stay in the moment. It was something I used to love about my job that just isn’t there anymore. It’s like this one thing that used to validate me now brings me nothing but anxiety. And no, I’m not ready to have kids, but wow…they really force you to concentrate on the present.”