Page 13 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

She had.

She’d also told me that she was more than happy for our kids to have my hair, as long as they had her teeth and skin color.

I didn’t care, as long as they were healthy.

Then again, she didn’t care, either. She was happy no matter what.

“All done,” the doctor said as he stood up and started stripping off his gloves and gown. “Nurse, I leave her in your capable hands.”

He washed his hands, then came over to look at the boy in my arms.

“I thought for sure this was going to be another ten pounder after your first one,” he mused as he looked down at my boy.

“I know.” I chuckled, the noise causing John to open his eyes wide.

Then he let out a blood-curdling scream, letting me know he was not happy with being woken up so abruptly.

“Got a set of lungs on him, doesn’t he?” The doctor clapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll check in with the two of you a little later. Congrats again.”

He left, leaving us with two nurses that were helping my wife get cleaned up, me, and my boy.

A soft knock at the door had us all turning to see, and I saw a hand wave through the door.

“Dixie!”

Copper.

I stood up, baby now on my shoulder, and walked toward the door. “I’m just gonna step right outside the door here.”

“Don’t let those dirty men hold my baby,” my wife ordered.

“We’re not dirty!” Stetson called.

“Sure aren’t,” Silas called out.

I chuckled as I slipped through the door, trying to keep my wife’s modesty intact.

Eight pairs of eyes stared at the new boy in my hands.

“Holy shit.” Stetson chuckled. “That one looks like the runt of the litter.”

“I know,” I said as I turned so that the men could see John’s face. “He’s a cute little thing, ain’t he?”

“That he is,” Silas said, a weird look in his eyes that surprised me. “Man, that makes me want a whole ton of my own.”

I laughed. “You have to get yourself a good woman first, Silas. Don’t want to be fathering kids all willy-nilly. Find you a good woman that adores you, then start poppin’ ’em out. You’re still pretty young, though, kid.”

“Twenty-four isn’t young, old man,” he countered.

“I’m not old,” I charged.

John started to grumble, and I took that as my cue to head back inside so he could get some milk from his mama.

“We came to ask if you wanted us to bring Mark up here to you,” Stetson offered.

“I’d love for you to,” I said. “I’m not actually sure who has him, though.”

My sheepish answer caused them all to burst out laughing, which really pissed John off.

---