Page 23 of Little Bedtime Snack

In the end, we decided that I was his Daddy, just like always, and more of a babysitter for his friend. I couldn’t really tell Jeb what to do, and I definitely didn’t dress him. But I could play with him or make him meals—those kinds of things. It was a pretty goodcompromise, and if it worked out well today, I could see a lot of playdates in the future.

The nursery had turned out beautifully.

It was a space that didn’t have a ton of natural light, with a row of short windows along the top of the one wall and nothing more. I think that’s probably why they called it a dressing room instead of a nursery in the listing.

We painted it Eli’s favorite color—a light bluey-teal. Ultimately we opted to keep the carpet that was there and used a throw rug over it to change the theme. We already had a closet full of them—one with a jungle theme, one with an ocean theme, one was decorated with geometric shapes, and another with a castle.

The one that was there now was designed as a race track for his cars.

On the ceiling, we had rows and rows of LED lights that Eli picked out. We were able to make the room look like a night sky—minus the whole being-accurate component. We could make them look like fairies dancing in the wind or just shining a bright, cheerful light. It was amazing, all the different settings they had.

“Daddy!” Eli called from our room.

“On my way, sweet boy.”

When I arrived, he had his clothes set out, ready for me. He was also standing there completely naked.

“So I’m guessing you have a plan here?” I chuckled.

“I need a tubby so I’m good and clean when my friend comes over.”

“Well, obviously we need to make you nice and clean.”

I went ahead of him and ran the water in the clawfoot tub. It was a great one for having a nice soak or playing with toys, but it wasn’t conducive to two people. That we had to save for my business trips.

Once it was ready, I helped him in and cleaned him up while he played with his ducks and some rubber trucks that I’d found online. But as soon as the bubbles were done, so was he.

Normally, he’d stay until his fingers turned wrinkly, but today was different. Jeb was coming over.

I dried him off and helped him get dressed, including putting on his bunny diaper. He was ready to go—a solid hour before Jeb was arriving.

“Cartoons?” He needed something quiet to help settle him down before his friend arrived.

“Yes, Daddy.”

We went downstairs to the family room—since there were so many rooms, they all got their own name—and put on his favorite cartoon. He had a nice, long drink of my milk while we waited for his friend.

That was another thing completely off the menu for his friend. My milk was Eli’s and that was that. There was no room for negotiating.

And honestly? I kind of liked the possessive side of him.

My sweet boy started to doze mid-drink, and I gently woke him, not wanting him to be sleepy—or worse, grumpy—from being woken up too soon.

“I think you were slipping into a milk coma.” I ruffled his hair.

“It’s because you make the best milk, Daddy.”

The doorbell rang, and I went to get it.

Eli wasn’t embarrassed about who he was or what he liked, but that didn’t mean if he opened the door to a random postman, they wouldn’t be uncomfortable with it. Best I just took care of it.

Standing there was Jeb, his backpack slung over his shoulder, holding two kids’ meals—one in each hand.

“I didn’t know you were bringing lunch.” Eli had planned one out for me to make with his new waffle maker, but getting a present from a friend was going to be fine by him.

Probably.

If not, I could still make waffles.

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