Page 100 of Chaos

Fuck, I hope I do this right.

I wish Sofia was here just in case.

Just as I get the heavy diaper free, Maeve decides to try to roll away, nearly over the side.

“No!” I catch her in a panic, making her start to cry.

Man, I’m screwing this up already.

“Hey… I’m learning. Shh, I didn’t mean to scare you.” I hate seeing her lower lip stick out like that. “Come on, baby girl. You look just like your momma when you do that.”

“Mamama?” She twists again as I try to slide her legs back into her clothes.

Crap. “Not yet. She’ll be back soon. It’s just you and me this morning.”

Buttoning her up, I hoist her back into my arms.

“You know, your grandpa used to make the best pancakes. I wish I had paid better attention…” Another bolt of pain pierces my heart.

She’ll never know my dad.

Fighting the knot in my throat, I prop her in her highchair and tear off a couple of small pieces of banana for her while I work on getting her milk.

Damn. Dad would have words of wisdom. He raised me pretty much on his own. I bet he’d have all kinds of tricks to make me a better father.

What if I screw this up? Looking at her big brown eyes as she fists the mushy yellow food into her mouth, I’d give anything to do things right by her.

“You’re my little princess, aren’t you?” Handing her the bottle, I pause as a heavy rumble of engines pass the house.

Her dark curls shift on her forehead as she tilts her head.

Pressing her lips together, she blows pieces of her snack all over the tabletop. Squealing, she smears her palms through it as far as she can reach.

Seriously?

Five wet paper towels later, and she’s cleaned back up. But also grumpy with me that I had to wipe her face a couple of times.

“Does this get easier as you get older?” I pull her out of the chair and set her down in the little play area I put together, filled with stuffed animals and books.

Me: How old are kids before they can start cleaning up after themselves?

Nikolai: Older than you are, apparently.

Me: Gee thanks, asshole

Nikolai: you’re welcome

That went nowhere fast.

When she starts fussing, it pulls me away from my phone.

“What’s the matter, tigryonok?” I pick her up and pull her close. “Should we watch some TV? I might be able to find a cartoon.”

Flipping through the channels placates her for a moment, but even with her favorite on, she’s still whimpering in my lap.

“Are you hungry? Want some more food?” Carrying her to the kitchen, I offer her a handful of baby cereal that melts in their mouths.

Her head shakes back and forth and her crying elevates. Red faced, she pushes my hand away.

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