Page 18 of A Little Spilled Milk

“I wanted,” he paused, gulped, and sniffed. “I wanted to show you my highchair.”

I’d have to drill holes in the wall for a storage rack on the wall to hold the folding chair and get it out of the way. After examining him, he wasn’t bleeding, but he’d have some owie bruises. I set up the highchair and put him in.

He must have paid a lot for it because you couldn’t get an adult-sized highchair at the local furniture store.

After getting some coloring books from a toy box and crayons, I put them on the tray, and he sat quietly coloring within the lines.

While the eggs were boiling, I cut up apples and oranges, and when they were almost done, I made toast.

“Are the soldiers ready, Daddy?” Vinnie attempted to get out of the highchair until I stopped him.

“If you topple over trying to climb out, you’ll get more than a small owie.”

His thumb edged toward his mouth, and his lashes glistened with tears.

“Sorry, Daddy, but I was excited for the soldiers.”

We packed up the crayons and coloring book, and I wiped his hands. After putting on his bib, I placed the egg and the toast soldiers, slathered in butter, on the highchair tray.

I asked if he wanted to take the top off the egg, but he preferred that I do it.

“It looks so good, Daddy. Thank you.”

He dipped one piece of toast in the soft egg and ate it. “Mmmm. I only want to eat eggs this way from now on.”

He glanced at my breakfast. “Daddy, you’re eating soldiers too.” He clapped. “I thought only little boys ate them.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

His eyes grew wide, and he put a finger to his lips. “Yes.”

“Boiled eggs with soldiers are my favorite too.”

“You’re just like me, Daddy.” He banged his spoon on the tray one too many times, but I allowed it, as he was so excited.

When he was done eating, he had egg smeared over his face and fingers, and I suggested a bath.

“Yes, please. I have so many bath toys.”

I helped him undress as I ran the bath and chose the cleanest toys. The rest needed a good scrub, but that was for later. We added bubble bath, and after testing the water with my elbow, I helped him in.

He picked up a handful of froth and rubbed it over his chin. “I have a beard, Daddy.”

“You do.”

Vinnie splashed the water, wetting me, and he giggled. He played with his boats and duckies. But when he held up his wrinkled hands, I suggested it was time to get out.

I wrapped him in a towel and waited while he brushed his teeth.

“Now?” he asked after five seconds of brushing. “No, top and bottom, back and front.” We sang “This is the way we brush our teeth” at the tops of our voices, and when he was done, I carried him into the bedroom.

“Emory.”

Oh, he was done being Little. “Can we clean up the kitchen later?”

I pictured the egg hardening on the plates. But he undid the zipper on my jeans. My breathing sped up as he brushed his fingers over the bulge in my briefs.

“I want you inside me.” He pulled my cock out and tugged it while stroking his own arousal.

---