Page 121 of Puppy Love

“Yeah, yeah we know sweetie. It’s like jail but with a private bathroom,” my dad interrupts.

Every day’s a treat.

Every day’s a treat.

Every day’s a fucking treat.

My jaw clenches so hard I feel my teeth scrape against one another.

“Should we get started with the presents?” I ask through gritted teeth. My mom frowns.

“Why are you in such a rush?”

I suck in a breath, holding it for as long as I can. I look at Ruthie, and she gives me an understanding nod.

“I think it’s a good idea. I know Tyler is on the edge of her seat and it’ll keep her busy for the rest of the day while I cook.”

She looks up at me, and I would mouth the words “thank you” if my parent’s eyes weren’t glued to me. From the other room, we hear Tyler cheer.

“Sorry!” Jeremiah calls out. “I should’ve covered her ears.”

I chuckle, shaking my head and we all shuffle to the living room reluctantly.

It only takes minutes for wrapping paper to litter Ruthie’s living room floor. Tyler has already solved half of a miniature Rubik’s cube that was in her stocking. Willow seems much more interested in the colorful paper than the actual presents she received from her parents. Reese barks as she shoves a giant ball of it into her mouth.

“Let’s save room in your stomach for something more nutritious, huh?” I sweep my finger inside the baby’s mouth, causing her to cry.

“Ruthie! Your kid is trying to eat garbage!” I call out, scooping Willow into my lap as I bounce my leg to comfort her.

“I’m sure she’s eaten worse,” Jeremiah says, taking her from my arms. “Whose presents are left?”

“Just the ones I brought.”

I begin placing the corresponding gifts in front of everyone. The kids and my parents each get a box, and between Jeremiah and Ruthie sits a single white envelope, their names scrawled across the front in what was intended to be fancy calligraphy. It looks like something Tyler could have given them.

“Alright, open!”

Tyler begins aggressively ripping the decorative paper off her box, while Ruthie gently slides her fingernail underneath the seal of the envelope, Jeremiah watching. I help Willow open her gift, talking in a high-pitched tone as I open the box with faux surprise.

“Wow! Isn’t that such a cool stuffy?!” Jeremiah says, poking Willow’s baby rolls. A small, white, smushy-faced plush emerges from the box. “Who does that look like?”

Willow babbles, with the cutest smile someone with only half their teeth could have. If I ever wanted kids, Willow would give me baby fever.

Every time we’ve visited since Willow was born, her and Reese have been inseparable. Everywhere Willow crawls to, Reese follows behind. And when it’s time for him to leave, the baby scoots herself to the door where he waits. It’s so cute that I tried to convince Ruthie to get the girls a dog, but she said she doesn’t want to until Willow starts walking.

Two skinny arms suddenly fling themselves around me, squeezing me tightly.

“Thank you, Aunt Vi!” Tyler squeals, rocking us back and forth. When she lets go, her gap-toothed smile takes over half her face. “This is the coolest thing ever!”

Since Ruthie made it clear they were not going to get the girls a dog anytime soon, I took it upon myself to prepare them for the day their mother was ready. I found this toy at Target, a fluffy white electronic dog that walks, and barks, and yes—shits. Tyler is very much a hands-on learner, and this is the perfect thing for getting her prepared.

“Just make sure you clean up after it, okay?” I smile.

“Okay,” Tyler giggles.

With Willow preoccupied, chewing on the miniature Reese, and Tyler off to pick up a fake dog’s fake poop, I look at my sister and brother-in-law. This is where things get complicated.

Jeremiah is, frankly, just a pretty average guy. He’s nice, but if he were a color, he’d be Modern Farmhouse Beige. I mean, the dude works as an accountant.

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