Page 168 of Daddy's Naughty List

He shrugged. “Faster naked, faster bubbles.”

And faster to kisses and snuggles and book time.

“That’s a good plan.” Kissing his head as he finally got the rest of his clothes off, I pointed to the toilet. “Potty while I get the bubbles started.”

He’d never been pee shy, so he bounced over to the toilet without bothering to close the door behind him. “Bubbles and fun and kisses and… oh, and books and a treat. That’s good helper time, Santa.”

So that was a good way for my little boy to have fun?

“I think it sounds perfect.” And I couldn’t see any stressors in that plan either. “What kind of treat should we have? Popcorn while we read a book? Cookies?”

I wasn’t sure what we had, but there were definitely options. I was a snacker, so there were always options.

But Stirling was not the same kind of random eater that I was. For him, it had to be what he was passionate about at the moment, but he’d never let himself indulge in anything Little-related. Hell, we didn’t even keep kid cookies in the house… just the expensive ones.

“Hmm?” Giving himself a shake as he flushed, Stirling started wandering in small circles around the bathroom. It was definitely going to end up being his helper thinking face, so I let him be adorable and turned on the water.

As I got everything ready, he made more thinking sounds before giving me a big shrug. “We don’t got it.”

What didn’t we have?

“What kind of snack were you thinking about? Is it something we can bake?” Helper or grownup, baking would be something he liked.

“No.” The overly casual way he waved his hands as he watched the soap start to bubble wasn’t believable at all. “But that’s okay. We can have cookies.”

It was getting more and more unbelievable every time he opened his mouth.

“Well, I guess if Santa’s helper doesn’t want to tell him, then that’s okay.” It was my turn to shrug and act like it didn’t matter. I wasn’t any more believable than he was, but I hadn’t tried very hard. “We can do cookies. I like cookies.”

Sighing, I pouted slightly and just watched the bubbles continue to build. “But it’s sad I won’t get the chance to try to make my helper happy.”

Guilt was a wonderful thing.

“Oh.” Rocking back and forth on his toes, he swung his arms and sighed. “I guess I have to let you try. You’re Santa. That’s what you do.”

Hopefully.

“Yes, trying would make me happy.” I really hoped it would make us both happy and he wasn’t going to ask for something ridiculous.

“Making you happy would make me a good helper.” He was stretching out the problem, but he wasn’t upset and he hadn’t lost his headspace.

I could only assume it was something he wasn’t ready to ask for and was working up the nerve. It made me incredibly curious, but I did my best not to show it as I went to grab a washcloth in the small linen closet.

By the time I walked back over to the tub, the water was high enough for him to get in and it’d seemed like he’d figured out what he wanted. He didn’t volunteer it right away, but as I took his hand, I could feel him relaxing. “Careful. Santa will not be happy if you fall.”

“It was only once, Santa.” Rolling his eyes as he sat down in an exaggeratedly careful manner, he sighed as I scoffed. “Two times.”

Three.

It’d been at least three.

It was why he wasn’t allowed to shower by himself when he was distracted or even tipsy.

“Thank you for being careful.” Sitting down beside the tub, I suds up the bubbles with my hand before mounding some of the froth on his head. “Now you look old too.”

He snickered but shook his head. “No, Santa just has white hair.”

I’d take that logic.

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