Page 18 of Exposed

“How do you know all this shit?” I ask.

“Movies. Books. Babysitting. I read a lot.” Then, she’s gone, and I stride over to lock the door behind her. Her rattle trap noisily backs out of the driveway. I make a mental note to do something about her car. Her breaking down on the road would be dangerous.

“Okay, buddy. Let’s get you fed.” He looks up at me, his sweet eyes working to focus on mine. “I’m your dad. I’ll take care of you, okay?”

One-handed, I boil water, then mix in the formula and pour it in his bottle when a foul odor reaches my nose.

“Little dude, that was you wasn’t it? You’re going to have to wait for that bottle until I clean you up.” He starts crying. I’d feel like crap if that shit was stuck to my butt too.

“I’ll get you cleaned up super fast.” I grab the diaper and wipes.

The list of what I need is endless. Diapers. Formula. Wipes. A crib. Baby clothes. Toys.

Am I really doing this? Half of me wants to find his mom and give him back, because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

The other half knows that she isn’t coming back. I’m all my son has, and I’m going to do the best I can for him.

“Okay, little man.” I toggle back and forth in my living room, deciding on where to change his diaper. I grab a bathroom towel to lay him on. “We’re going to rough it on the carpet.”

I lay him down, then undo the diaper, paying attention to how it’s fixed together with the little tabs on the side.

Shani whimpers while the baby cries. “It’s okay, Shani. I think he’s just mad about his dirty diaper. He’s hangry. We’re alright.”

I open his diaper, and my suspicions were correct. “Yep. You’re a boy.”

He kicks and screams while I wipe him down. This is so much messier than using the toilet. Poop gets on me and the towel. Changing a baby’s diaper is harder than it looks.

I’ve broken a sweat by the time I’m fastening the diaper tabs snug on him. “You’re a strong little dude.” I grin. “You definitely must be mine. Pound it.” I pretend to give him a fist pound. “Lay here while I wash my hands,” I tell him, nervous about leaving him on the floor.

“Watch him, Shani,” I instruct, and my dog actually cocks her head and watches the baby like she’s the nanny inPeter Pan.

I quickly throw away the diaper, wash my hands and grab the bottle before picking up my son.

“Good job, Shan.” I ruffle her behind her ears.

“We need to get you potty trained, STAT. That was nasty,” I sigh. “Here’s your bottle.” I shake it a few times to let him see it.He’s not a dog, Matt.

His little eyes lock on the bottle. Well, maybe he is a little like a puppy.

Shani jumps onto the couch and lays next to me.

“Hungry, little guy?” Tipping the bottle up, he opens his mouth and sucks. Then, he immediately starts choking.

“Shit,” I toss the bottle on a couch cushion and prop him against my chest to pat his back.

“I’m sorry,” I say as he coughs, spitting up on my shoulder and chest. I hold him back a little so I can look in his face. “What did I do wrong?” He sputters as formula dribbles out of his pink lips.

“Was it too much? Too fast? Help me out here.”

I try again, this time with him leaning on me so he’s sitting up more. “You want to sit up, don’t you? I’d choke if I laid down and tried to eat.”

I take it slower this time. Letting a little formula into the nipple for him to suck before tilting the bottle so none comes out. After he’s swallowed, I allow more to drop down into the nipple. Pride surges through my chest as I feed my son.

“There we go. We got it, little buddy.” It’s second nature to talk to him. I’ve been a father for fourweeks now, and I didn’t even know it. I need to make up for lost time.

“You need a name. I’ll think about it, okay? I’ll give you one today.”

Naming my son feels important. He’ll have this name his whole life. Maybe. If I can figure out who the mom is, get his birth certificate and change his name so it’s not Baby.

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