Page 24 of Witch Way to the Diapers

Sayer took the mug, his fingers brushing against hers. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through him, and he had to fight the urge to pull her close and claim her lips with his own. The mug was adorned with playful lion cubs, their golden manes reminiscent of his own shifter form.

“It’s perfect,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “Thank you, Fia.”

She beamed at him, and Sayer felt his heart skip a beat. How had this woman, in such a short time, managed to burrow so deeply into his heart?

The next few days brought a whirlwind of new experiences for Sayer. He’d lived for centuries, run international hotels, and faced down formidable foes, but nothing had prepared him for the chaos of life with a toddler.

The next morning, Sayer padded into the kitchen, his lion senses immediately tickled by an odd combination of smells - sweet cinnamon, milk, and... was that defeat? He rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping at the sight before him.

Fia stood in the center of what could only be described as a breakfast war zone. She was covered head to toe in a thick,goopy substance that Sayer assumed was once oatmeal. Globs of it clung to her hair, forming a haphazard, lumpy tiara. Streaks of the stuff painted her face like some sort of tribal warrior preparing for battle. Her shirt, once a cheerful yellow, now resembled a Jackson Pollock painting - if Pollock had worked exclusively in shades of beige.

In the midst of this chaos sat Vienna, perched in her high chair like a tiny queen on her throne. She was giggling and clapping her hands with unbridled glee, clearly delighted with the havoc she’d wreaked. A few cereal pieces stuck to her cheeks gave her the appearance of a chipmunk mid-snack.

“I swear,” Fia said, attempting to blow a strand of oatmeal-covered hair out of her face, only to have it stubbornly cling to her forehead, “I turn my back for two seconds. Two! It’s like she’s got some sort of mess-making superspeed!”

Sayer laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep in his chest. “Well,” he managed between chuckles, “I always heard breakfast was the most important meal of the day. I just didn’t realize it was meant to be worn rather than eaten.”

Fia shot him a look that was part exasperation, part amusement. “Oh, you think this is funny, do you? Just wait until it’s your turn, Mr. ‘I’ve-run-international-hotels-how-hard-can-a-baby-be?’”

“Here, let me help,” Sayer offered, grabbing a towel and approaching Fia with the caution of a man facing down a wild animal. “Though I’m not sure if I should start cleaning or just call a restoration specialist. This might qualify as a new form of art.”

As he helped clean up the mess, wiping globs of oatmeal from surfaces he didn’t even know could be reached by a toddler, Sayer marveled at Fia’s ability to handle the situation with such grace and humor. She even managed to make oatmeal-chic look somewhat appealing.

Later that week, karma came for Sayer in the form of a diaper change. He stood at the changing table, Vienna wriggling before him like a tiny, uncooperative contortionist. The smell hit him first - his enhanced shifter senses making him regret every life choice that had led him to this moment.

“How does something so small produce so much... output?” he muttered, holding his breath as he tackled the task. He fumbled with the diaper, trying to remember the instructions Fia had given him. Was it tabs first, then legs? Or legs first, then tabs? And why were there so many snaps on this onesie? It was like trying to disarm a bomb while wearing oven mitts.

Fia leaned against the doorframe, amusement dancing in her eyes as she watched the mighty lion shifter dry-heaving over a soiled diaper. “Welcome to parenthood, lion boy,” she teased. “Not quite the savannah, is it?”

Sayer turned to her, a pleading look in his eyes. “I’ve negotiated company takeovers easier than this. How do you make it look so easy?”

Fia chuckled, pushing off the doorframe to come to his rescue. “Years of practice folding origami,” she quipped, deftly managing the diaper change in what seemed like seconds.

As they finished cleaning up Vienna, who was now cooing contentedly, Sayer shook his head in amazement.

Fia patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. And if not, well... I hear lions are pretty good at adapting to new territories.”

Sayer groaned at the pun, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lips. As challenging as this new life was, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Even if it meant becoming an expert in the art of diaper warfare.

Despite the challenges, Sayer found himself reveling in the small victories. The first time Vienna clearly said “Hi” and “Bye” he and Fia celebrated as if she’d won a Nobel Prize. Andwhen Vienna’s magic seemed somewhat controlled, creating tiny sparks of light that danced around her crib, Sayer felt a surge of pride unlike anything he’d experienced.

But as the days wore on, a new challenge emerged. Vienna began having trouble sleeping through the night, and she would only settle when Fia held her. Sayer watched helplessly as Fia grew more exhausted each day, dark circles forming under her eyes.

“Let me take her,” Sayer offered one night, reaching for Vienna as she wailed in Fia’s arms.

Fia shook her head, swaying gently with the crying toddler. “It’s okay. She’ll settle soon. If you hold her she’ll only get louder.”

But as the nights wore on and Fia’s exhaustion deepened, he had to do something. He began taking Vienna for long walks in the park during the day, hoping to tire her out. He read her stories, played with magical toys, anything to give Fia a chance to rest.

One afternoon while Fia napped, Sayer took Vienna to the Lone Wolf Café. Celeste greeted them with a warm smile, her own belly swollen with impending motherhood.

“Rough nights?” she asked, noting the fatigue in Sayer’s eyes.

He nodded, explaining the situation. Celeste and Kade exchanged a knowing look.

“We’ll send over some meals,” Kade offered. “One less thing for you to worry about.”

Sayer felt a rush of gratitude for the community they’d found themselves in. On the way home, he stopped to buy a bouquet of wildflowers for Fia.

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