Page 9 of A Very Grumpy Father's Day
“Hey. Piper just informed me via text from her room that you need a sitter.”
“Yeah. You aren’t available, are you?”
“Not unless you want to drop Ciara off here and expose her to Ben’s cold virus.”
“Aww, he’s sick again?”
“Yeah. Enjoy having a child who isn’t a daycare germ bucket and a daughter who doesn’t hate you while it lasts.”
“I will, thanks! Is Piper still not talking to you because her name autocorrects to Poops?”
“Poops is extra not-talking to me now because I won’t let her watchOutlander.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“Thank you!”
“No, I mean for Piper to not talk to you because of that.”
“Well, you’re just saying that because you haven’t read her fan fiction.”
“You mean the fan fiction she writes in her private journals?”
“Oh, she knows I still read her journals. It’s not my fault they just happen to fall open when I’m cleaning her room. What am I supposed to do—notread her ‘mate or die’ stories about Dean and Castiel fromSupernaturalkissing each other?”
“That’s a thing?”
“It is in my daughter’s journals. Which is why I don’t want her to watchOutlander.All those Scottish guys in kilts? In related news—Sam Heughan DTF, am I right?”
I can’t stop laughing. “I do not think that means what you think it means.”
“It meansfor the win! …Oh, wait.”
I continue laughing as I hang up on her.
I’m still laughing as I walk down the hall to the living room.
I stop laughing when I see that Declan is still standing exactly where I left him, staring down at our daughter, who is still playing with plastic cups. He may have fallen asleep standing up. Even if I get him to help me unpack he will be distracted and useless.
“Okay,” I say.
He widens his eyes and shifts around, trying to look more alert.
“It’s time for her afternoon nap. I’m going to put her down, and then you’re going to keep an eye on her while I spend two uninterrupted hours unpacking. On my own. Do not bother me, do not complain about where I put what. Do not criticize my process. I want to find my scented candles and bath salts and bath-time books and bathtub caddy.”
“And I will offer again to purchase new ones for you, even though scented candles are annoying and stupid.”
“And I will remind you that I don’t want to have duplicates once I locate them.”
“Then I will calmly smile, wish you luck, bid you a fond farewell, and insist on putting our baby down on my own.”
I try very hard not to let my facial expression or tone of voice convey my skepticism. “You sure?”
“’Course. I got this.”
“Okay, well…I’ll take the baby monitor with me.”
He blocks me when I reach for the baby monitor. “I. Got. This.”
I smile at him. I truly, genuinely want to believe he’s got this. “Okay, big daddy. You got this.”
