Page 40 of CurVy Baby

“True.” My wife nods, and I watch from the doorway, my shoulder to the frame, a resting grin on my lips. A contented feeling in my chest.

My two girls.

And my other half.

“Milkman is here.” Dexter enters the room, patting my shoulder as he moves to the bedside. “Though,” he starts, and my lips flatten with exasperation. “I think you’re too old for milk in a bottle, but then?—”

“Dexter,” Molly complains, sorting him out before any of us have to. “It’s not a bottle. It’s. A.Sippy cup. You don’t knoweverything.Remember?” She takes the cup from him. “Milk is good for my bones. I am going to be big and strong like my dad.”

“Which one?” Tyler laughs.

Her cheeks bunch above her smile. “Guess.”

Me. She means me.

Dexter is right in a way.

Molly shouldn’t need to drink out of a sippy cup at her age, but she didn’t have an easy start, and the sippy cup is still a small baby-item she clings to. We will work on transitioning her to a regular cup, maybe a takeaway coffee cup, and then a real cup in the coming months.

Of all the battles of parenting, this small minor issue is not my priority at all. It brings her comfort.

Fuck, I’m such a dad.

From stalking a stunning curvy bookworm on TikTok—my Curvy Thirteen—to holding her hostage, to sippy-cup-to-cup transition strategies…Fuck.That’s quite the lifestyle leap.

“Right. Got it. I’ll back off.” Dexter dips to kiss her forehead quickly, but her arms fly out and wrap around his neck, stopping him from pulling away.

She does this.

Clings to our necks.

Holds us. We aren’t sure whether it’s a controlling trait or a fear response to being abandoned and neglected. Either way, we have to remind her to let go.

“It’s okay, Molly.” Dexter allows her to hang onto him and even relaxes against her to show he’s there because he wants to be. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

With a sigh, she releases him.

“Ty.” I nod at my twin. “Up.”

My turn.

“Night, Molly Polly.” My twin leans across, and she kisses his nose. He grins. “Clair de Lune. Every time.”

As he slides from the mattress, she teases him, “Night,Tyler Baby,” and accepts a kiss and cuddle from Vallie.

They all say goodnight.

Within several seconds, the bedroom door shuts, and we are left alone with the stars projected on the white ceiling and the humming of the fan.

It clicks a few times.

Then hums.

I’ll have to fix that.

Molly sighs, her blonde lashes fanning her eyes, heavy from a full day of activities and play.

My heart expands in my chest just looking at this little girl.Mylittle girl. I want more. I want five. Six.Hell, we’ll keep my wife pregnant until she threatens to withhold sex unless we stop knocking her up. Who would have thought family was my calling?

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