Page 29 of Mister Mom

“Not there.” Payne points up to the table where he got the diaper. “There.”

Oh yeah, makes sense. I pick up Via and hold her face forward away from my new shirt. She giggles and squirms. My eyes fixate on her back because common sense tells me the shit has to go somewhere.

I place Via down on the cushioned table. She immediately tries to roll over so I place my hand in the middle of her chest so that she stays put.

Another waft of what’s in her diaper makes its way to my nose. I hold my breath and press my lips together. “Is my script really this important?” I mumble.

“Payne, can you go get your clothes on?”

“Can I pick my own shirt?” he asks.

“Sure buddy, wear whatever you want.”

“Yay!” He races from the room and drawers are slamming seconds later.

Via is gazing up at me with her big blue eyes and smile on her face. “I bet you’re feeling lighter now.”

She giggles as if she can understand what I’m saying and I suppress a smile. Time to get serious. Get in and get out. Successful scriptwriter. Sundance. Sony. I repeat the reasons I’m in this position over and over again.

Once I’ve pumped myself up enough, I unzip her pajamas and lift her legs out of the feet holders, then her arms. Clean stomach, although she’s packing a nice size bulge in her diaper. Then I realize, there’s shit on the pajamas and I drop them in the laundry basket. I tear off one side of the diaper and then the other, and inhale one last breath before I pull the diaper down. “Holy shit!” How can a little girl’s poop be as big as Leo’s dog, Cooper’s shit?

Bile races up my throat and I physically swallow back the vomit, leaving a path of fire back down. I press my hand to my mouth and turn my head to take a few fresh air deep breaths.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

I am in way over my head. Changing my first diaper is one thing. Changing my first diaper full of shit and dealing with a biological disaster is another entirely.

With my free hand, I pull my phone out from my back pocket, ready to call Layla but the last thing she needs to realize is her new scriptwriter can’t even change a diaper. Luckily, there’s one other woman in my life who happened to be the go-to babysitter in Climax Cove— my sister Charlie. Besides she’s pregnant. She’s probably been practicing with dolls so she’s prepared when the day comes.

I thumb through my contacts and press on her name. I hit the speaker button and set my phone down on the dresser beside the bin holding the clean diapers.

“Vance?” she answers on the second ring.

“Hey. I need your help.”

“Hello to you too, Vance. How is life in LA? Oh, I’m fine. Why yes, the pregnancy is going great,” she says in a sweet voice. “But then you’d know that if you answered my texts!” she says much angrier.

“Sorry I’ve been busy. Listen. Hypothetically speaking let’s say you had a baby on a table and she took a giant shit and it ended up all the way up her back…what’s the first thing you would do?” I ask.

“Hypothetically speaking? Cut the shit, what’s going on?” she counters.

“I see that loving motherly side hasn’t surfaced yet.”

“That comment isn’t going to win you any points,” she says. “Garrett not now.” She giggles. “I’m on the phone with my brother.” Another giggle.

My stomach rolls. As if this situation isn’t bad enough, I now have to listen to one of my best friends seduce my sister. He already got her pregnant what more does he want? Kill me now.

“Would you guys stop that? I’m serious. I need help.” Panic is laced through my every word.

“Okay, okay. I’m getting out of bed,” she says.

“That is a visual I don’t need.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Vance. Do you want my help with your hypothetical situation?”

I blow out a breath. “Yes, please.”

“There’s the son mom raised. Now, is she still in her clothes?” she asks.

---