“WHAT DO you mean you don’t want a baby shower?” Creed says a couple of weeks later. It’s a Saturday, and Anna had to go into the office for the morning, leaving Creed to come and bug me. “They’re the best part. You get so much free shit, you wouldn’t even believe.”
“I know,” I say dryly. “I was there at the two for Anna. I was giving you free shit.”
He waves a hand at me dismissively, picking a Cheerio off AJ’s head as he screeches gleefully from the old high chair they’d brought over to keep at our house for when they visited. “So take my word for it. You need to have one. You get registered at, like, Target or some shit and then invite a bunch of people to the party. That way, they’re required to buy you stuff. It really is the best. It’s like a birthday party where none of the stuff is for you and it’s really disappointing, but you need it anyway.”
“Isn’t it more for the mother?”
He shrugs. “Probably. But since the mom in this case is your baby factory, you don’t need to worry about buying anything for her. I mean, she’s getting paid for this, right? And she and her boyfriend have that pregnancy kink, so.”
I grimace. “God, I really wish you would stop saying that.”
“I know it’s hard to think about Megan and her dude boning while carrying your super-sperm babies, but it’s the cold, hard reality.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Hard. Get it? Get it.”
“Yes, Creed. I get it.”
“Yeah you do. It’s because I’m hysterical, and you—JJ, get down off the kitchen counter and put down the knife, please.”
“But—”
“JJ.”
He sighs. “Fine.”
I stare at Creed with wide eyes. “How did you do that? You weren’t even looking at him. He’s behind you.”
Creed shrugs. “It’s a dad thing. You know how Otter is already making awful dad jokes? It’s kind of like that, only better. It’s like a superpower. I know everyone says that the woman is all empowered and epic because they carry the kid, but I think us guys don’t get enough credit for all the shit we do.” He frowned. “But don’t tell Anna I said that. Because our couch sucks to sleep on.”
“I don’t tell dad jokes,” Otter grumbles as he comes into the kitchen. He kisses me on the forehead and goes to pour himself more coffee. It’s early yet, and we still have to drive to Eugene to meet with Megan and her boyfriend to go to a Lamaze class, something I am convinced is a disaster in the making.
“You texted me yesterday that part of a tree fell on your car,” Creed says. “And then you texted me a picture of a leaf on the hood.”
“Why?” I moan, putting my head down on the table.
“It was funny,” Otter insists.
“That’s your husband,” Creed says. “Good job not letting that one get away. JJ, if you put that fork in the socket, God is going to be very upset with you and will cancel Voltron.”
“He will?” JJ asks, eyes wide.
“Yes. And also probably Netflix.”
“But—but that’s rude.”
“So is the reaction your mother will have if I allow you to electrocute yourself. Stop it.” Creed sips his coffee and grins at AJ, who now has Cheerios stuck to his cheeks. “God, I can’t wait for school to start again. Make him the teacher’s problem.”
“Thanks,” I say wryly. “Really. Your support is tremendous.”
“Right? You’re welcome. Speaking of, how’s that going to work? Don’t you have to start administrative shit in August?”
Otter sits down next to me as I make a face. “Yeah. And I’ll be going back and working up until Megan gives birth. I get twelve weeks’ paternity leave, but then I’ll have to go back.”
“I’ll be staying home for now,” Otter says.
Creed grins. “Stay-at-home dad? Rock on. I can dig it. Annnnd you’re frowning, Bear.”
“He’s not very happy about it,” Otter says, patting my hand as I pout. “He wants to have longer, but we can’t afford for him to take the school year off, especially if there is no guarantee that he’ll pick up another contract next year. I mean, we can afford it, but it’s better to plan ahead.”
“Oh, dude,” Creed breathes. “Trust me. You will be begging to go back by the time those twelve weeks are up. Just wait until your kid accidentally shits on your hands. You will be running back to your job.”