Page 39 of 7+Us Makes Nine

“I want a cookie,” Dmitri asked.

“Cake!” Michaela exclaimed.

“Do we even have all of those desserts?” Jace asked.

“What kind of question is that?”

I asked as I walked over to the pantry. “Of course we do!”

Jace finished loading the dishes into the dishwasher while I got the kids set up with their desserts. I set them at the table to give us time to prepare the movie so we could all cuddle up onto the couch. They devoured their sweets and drank some milk, then Jace took them all upstairs to get their teeth brushed and get into some pajamas. He knew better. He knew they would fall asleep halfways through this movie sprawled out onto the couch. I loaded the last of the dishes and started the dishwasher, then made my way upstairs to help in any way I could.

“Princess jammies!”

Michaela came barreling down the hallway in a princess t-shirt and a tutu with a wand in her hand. She crashed into me and took me to the floor where she proceeded to try and tickle me. I laughed so hard I began to wheeze before I felt the boys get in on the action. Their small hands danced along my stomach and my sides, bringing tears to my eyes as my body squirmed on the floor.

“Jace! Help! I need backup!”

“Here I come!”

One by one, the kids started to squeal with delight. He pulled them off me and picked them up, blowing raspberries into their stomachs. I gasped for air and got onto all fours, my head bent down so I could draw in deep breaths. I stood to my feet as the kids continued to giggle and I turned around, taking in the sight of them tackling their father against the wall.

“Come on, Miss Cathy!” Dmitri said. “We’ve got him!”

“Hey. I helped you. I had mercy on you. No. No. No!”

I came at him with my fingers and started dancing them along his neck. His chest. His stomach. A smile so bright it could’ve pierced the sunlight grew along his cheeks until he slide to the floor breathless. The kids piled on top of him as I backed into the opposite wall, feeling the first beads of sweat trickling down the back of my neck.

“Well,” Jace said, “I think we successfully worked off dinner.”

“Movie,” Michaela asked.

“No more tickling, then sure,” Jace said.

“Party pooper,” I said as I stuck my tongue out.

But he shot me a look that told me I was in my own sort of trouble that night.

The best kind of trouble I could be in.

We all walked downstairs and piled onto the couch. Michaela crawled into my lap and hunkered down between my legs while the boys leaned against Jace. He pressed ‘play’ on his remote and the movie struck up, and I could tell ten minutes in that the kids wouldn’t last very long. Michaela’s eyes were already beginning to drop as she leaned against me, and the grip on her wand became lax. And by the time the movie was thirty minutes in, the kids were snoring against us.

“I figured we’d get at least halfway through,” Jace said.

“That was before the impromptu torture session,” I said.

“You mean the tickle fight?”

“It might as well have been a torture session,” I said.

“Not a fan of being tickled?”

“I’ll tolerate it for the kids, but it’s like nails on a chalkboard to me.”

“Duly noted,” he said.

“So what do you want to do? Stick out the rat movie or get them to bed?”

“Let’s give it fifteen more minutes. You know, to make sure they’re fully asleep.”

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