Page 44 of As the Years Pass
“Yummy,” I say with a forced smile.
Adam chuckles, stabbing the straw into his.
“It’s not my favorite. I like Go-Go Grape better,” Judy says.
“That does sound delicious,” I add.
Judy gets onto her knees to reach for a pizza, and that brave girl goes right for the pineapple.
“That’s the wrong one, sweetheart. Cheese is that one,” Adam says.
“Nope, I want this one.”
I smile to myself as I grab a bagel with pineapple and a croissant with pepperoni.
“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” I tell her. “I’ll eat it.”
“Even after I bite it?” she cries. “My germs are on it.”
“I am not afraid of germs,” I say, taking a big bite of my pineapple one.
“Okay, here I go,” she says, staring at the bagel like it’s a bomb she needs to disarm.
She blows on it, then bites right into it, some of her hair falling out of her very messy ponytail. She chews it, sitting back on her knees, and looks at me.
After swallowing, she stares at the pizza and says, “I don’t know…”
I laugh. “Hey, it was awesome of you to try it.”
“He’s right, sweetheart. Trying new things is important.”
“You can have it.” She puts it on my plate, then grabs a plain cheese on an English muffin.
Adam gets up a few times to check on Ian, who is feeling the same—just fine but with a slight temperature. I don’t know anything about kids to know if that’s a big deal or not, but I assume since he feels okay it’s probably fine?
I finish cleaning up the kitchen while Adam puts the leftovers in the fridge.
“You really don’t have to do that,” Adam says.
“Well, I’m not doing anything else.”
“Judy, go brush your teeth and get ready for your shower.”
“Can I take a bath?” she calls from her room.
“Sure, if you want to.”
“I do!”
Adam gets a can of chicken and rice soup from the cabinet and heats it up on the stove while I start the dishes.
This is all so domestic, and way too easy. Doing this with him shouldn’t be so easy. It’s exactly what I was afraid of, so I push the thought from my mind.
“Do you want a beer?” Adam asks as he pours the soup into a bowl.
“Sure.”
He gets one from the fridge and hands it to me, then brings the bowl of soup to the table. There’s hardly any broth in there, but I feel like that’s a typical kid thing.
