I wipe the shit that is still coming from my son’s ass and let out a long sigh. “I thought you were done shitting.”
“Poo-poo!” she yells more sternly, and at this point, I’m about to throw this poo-poo at her.
“Babe, I’m a hockey player. One, I do not say poo-poo. And two, cuss words are sentence enhancers!” I holler back at her. “I’ll teach you all the good ways to use them, don’t worry,” I assure him.
He farts. Loudly. He isn’t the least bit worried… And look, more shit.
“On the ice only, buddy. Harry will be a prince.”
He pisses on me. I yell out as I throw a wipe over his privates. I point to him. “That is not very royal, mister.”
Though, I can’t help but grin. I love him. Shit, piss, spit up, everything, I love the little bugger. I lean down, cuddling his head as I press my nose to his. His deep brown eyes meet mine, and I never thought I could feel like this. I love Claire. Like, love that woman more than I love myself, but with this guy, it’s bone-deep. He’s my dude. We’ll get to do everything together. We’ll get to hit the ice, we’ll talk girls, and I’ll teach him everything I know. He’ll want my bike, and we’ll hide it from Claire because she’ll freak. He’s gonna be the coolest kid on the planet, and I can’t wait to get to know him.
Gotta get through this shitting and pissing thing, though.
“Why did you use half the box?”
I look up to find Claire standing over us with her phone in her hand. “That’s for the ’gram ’cause the world needs to know how hot my husband is as a dad.”
I grin before kissing his little nose. “He keeps pooping. Are you sure he can drink some other chick’s milk?”
“Yes. It’s in all the books and research. Seriously. It’s gonna be so good for his body, and these amazing women pump just for people like us. It’s wonderful for him.”
I think it’s a wee bit weird, but Claire is very gung ho on it. I didn’t even know there were milk banks like that, but I haven’t researched the hell out of being a parent like Claire has.
That’s what makes her better than me.
I sit up as she cleans around me. “Babe, he shit on—”
“Ha! You said shit.” I smirk.
She glares as she pushes her strawberry-blond hair out of her face. “Shut up,” she demands as she shakes her head. “You got it all over the blanket again. They’re gonna kick us out of this hotel.”
“Which is why I said we should have stayed with Stacey and Ripp.”
She looks at me with a blank expression. “A pair of newlyweds? No way. I want them to have kids one day. It’s only three more days.”
Our house sold very quickly since one of the guys bought it. He said we could stay until after our doctor’s appointment since all our stuff is already in Florida, but Claire wants him to get married and have kids too. She’s all about people procreating. I’m all about being comfortable, but apparently that wasn’t a consideration when she decided two days after our son was born to bring him home to a Marriott. Good shit for the baby book, though. Perfect hockey-kid kind of shit. Or, I mean, poo.
“You don’t need the whole box, baby,” she reprimands as she quickly moves around me, cleaning Harrison’s butt and diapering him like it’s her calling.
“Half. I only used half.”
I glare at her as she picks him up.
“One wipe, maybe two. Promise. You’re doing so awesome. Wait, is that shit in his hair?”
It is. “Poo,” I say, all sassy-assy.
“Shut the hell up,” she throws back at me as she heads to the bathroom.
“Oh, so we can say hell?”
She ignores me as the water starts, and I finish cleaning my mess. This shit is hard, and holy fuck, I’m exhausted, but I’m deliriously happy. As I toss my mess, I hear my phone on the counter in the kitchen. I jog out to it since it’s my mom’s ringtone. When I answer it, I hear a whole lot of talking on the other side.
“I have no damn clue. Look at the pictures Claire sent. Baylor, nobody got time for that mouth! Jamieson, baby, I love you more than life itself, but if you don’t get your little body off that white couch with those shoes… Didn’t anyone tell them you can’t have white stuff with kids? River, River, no! I said in the kitchen. Yes, thank you, Phillip. Get him under control—you know he’s old! Avery, get your kid, please! For the love of God, Jayden, Jace, can y’all act your age? Be an example for the boys! Jesus, this is a madhouse!”
I can’t help but laugh. “Mom?”