“You’re right. But how about we talk about it when it gets closer to the time the doctor can find out? We’ll decide together.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” She reached out to ruffle his hair. “But for right now, how about we set the table together.”
He rolled his eyes, but went over to get silverware and napkins while she grabbed two plates and two cups. She looked at the table once everything was set. Just the two of them for now. Soon, she’d have to fit a highchair in there, which as she remembered, was a tight fit in the corner.
It would be even tighter if Merit were here with us, but we could make it work.
She turned away from the table, unwilling to let her thoughts go down that dangerous path right now. If today was any indication, it might very well just be her, Ian, and the baby. Her chest tightened, giving her a little jolt of panic when she realized how quickly she’d succumbed to longing for the four of them to become a family.
“Mom?”
She slid her gaze to Ian to find him watching her. “Yeah?”
“Will the baby have a daddy? Or will it be like me without a daddy?”
In that moment, her heart broke. Until a week ago, he hadn’t asked questions about his dad, and she certainly hadn’t volunteered the information to him. She knew he’d ask eventually, but even knowing that, she still had no clue how in the hell to explain to the boy who was everything to her that his father hadn’t even bothered to look at him once before signing away his rights and walking away forever.
She’d never tell him that—at least not at this age—so, what could she say that would help him understand, and yet not make him feel unwanted?
She held out her hand. “Come sit with me.” He slipped his little hand into hers, and she walked him over to sit them both on the couch, facing each other. His innocent blue eyes were solemn and a little apprehensive.
“Some daddies aren’t made to be good daddies,” she began. “They don’t know how to take care of someone as special as babies are.”
“Couldn’t my daddy learn? Like I learned to write my letters at school?”
Oh, how she wished it were that simple. And her little Scooby was wise beyond his years.
“Some daddies can’t.” Or more accurately, won’t. “Your daddy’s life did
n’t allow for him to take care of you like you needed to be taken care of.”
“Why not?”
She thought for a moment. “You know how Grandma and Grandpa’s puppies didn’t have a dad because the dog daddy just wasn’t there? Some human daddies are like that.”
He squinted, and she could practically see the wheels in his head turning. “And some are like penguin daddies? Like Cory’s daddy?”
She blinked. “Penguin daddies?
“In school, Mrs. Cole told us all about how the daddy penguin carries the egg on his feet, and then helps take care of the baby penguin after it hatches.”
Ah, now she got it. “Well, then yes, some are like penguin daddies.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment. She hated that he might be wishing he had a penguin daddy.
“Merit said babies need lots of extra care.”
The lump forming in her throat swelled. “They do. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop taking care of you.”
“I know. Merit said that, too.”
Not exactly, but close enough that Ian had gotten the gist.
He tilted his head. “Can I help?”
She smiled. That’s my sweet boy. “Of course you can. One easy way for you to help is to keep doing the chores I ask you to do now, and as you get older, a few others.”