Page 61 of The Monster at the End of This Molt

"Stop worrying. I went to school for this."

Robin would win every father of the year award. Of that, I had no doubt. "I'm not worried about you."

He kissed my cheek. "You're going to be amazing."

Amazing, perhaps, but patient, I was not. I wanted to grab a rubber mallet or chisel and break our babies out of their prison shells.

Instead, I sat up so I could sit on my hands. After at least a half-hour of inactivity, I coated our smallest egg with more slick and wrapped the blankets closer around it.

Robin lay his head in my lap. "Wake me when they're here."

The largest egg stirred at the sound of his voice. After a few hard cracks sent chips falling down the side, a greenish-brown snout shoved through the opening. I knew what his name would be before I saw the distinctive brown hair and yellow-green stripes. As he molted, his stripes would shift toward the usual brown most betas had, but for now, he looked like, "Boober."

Robin sat up so fast he almost knocked his head against my chin. "You didn't like 'Duddy,' but you think 'Boober' is acceptable?"

"We don't even have nipples! It's a great name, and it means absolutely nothing here." As soon as Boober shook free of the egg, I picked him up and cradled him in my arms.

Robin petted our little football-sized baby lizard and shook his head. "That might be true if we didn't have human television shows and movies."

"If Jim Henson can name one of his creations Boober, so can I!"

Robin laughed at my mock outrage, and then he gave in. "Fine. Boober the beta kobold, it is. I hope he's braver than his namesake."

As though answering him, Boober wrapped his long tail around Robin's wrist. "Look who's a brave boy," I cooed at him.

Fresh tears pricked the corners of my eyes. Boober was perfect, and I already loved him so much.

The other two shells rocked on their bases as our little ones fought their way out. The next to emerge was an adorable alpha with lavender hair. Thankfully, he was lighter than Lark, or I'd never hear the end of it. I also had the perfect name for him. "Gobo."

"Gobo." Robin grinned. "He looks like a Gobo." He leaned over the blanket wall with his hands splayed to pick Gobo up. Our little one must have been hungry, because he bit down on Robin's index finger.

Instead of reacting the way my adoptive parents would have, Robin only grinned and shuffled the little one over to the tarp to help himself to the slick still collecting there. Boober seemed interested, too, so I placed him on the tarp.

"Who's next?" Robin asked as he smeared more slick on the smallest egg. It continued to absorb nutrients. "Not this one."

The final large egg shook as the baby inside hammered away on the shell. "They have decent rhythm."

"Oh no." Robin sighed. "I object."

Finally, our little omega emerged by tipping his egg over on its side and busting out the top with a shake of his head. "Wembley."

Robin blinked. "Okay. I don't object."

"What did you think I was going to say?"

"Pipebanger, Doozer, or something equally ridiculous."

"Our babies deserve main character names!" I leaned over to pick Gobo up from the tarp. "Though I might call our little alpha Convincing John, just because."

Robin scooted Wembley to the tarp for his first snack outside the egg. The little omega turned his nose up at it and scampered back to his eggshell, looking up at Robin expectantly.

"Time for a real meal?" Robin picked him up, and he immediately crawled onto Robin's shoulder.

I grabbed Boober, who was still milling about the tarp with his nose in the air and followed Robin to the kitchen. I had bowls of rice and vegetable soup waiting on the table for them when we arrived.

"This is so weird." Robin slipped under my arm and leaned against me, clutching my hand to his chest as we watched them eat. "I babysat newborn humans, but hatchlings before their first molts …"

"We keep them fed until they molt for the first time, and then we send them to school."

---