Page 57 of Absinthe Minded

After changing her, I returned to the kitchen to prepare a bottle. Holding her upright, I did a sort of bob and weave dance as I worked.

Ryan came into the kitchen with a huge wet spot down the front, and back, of his pajamas. “I peed.”

“I see that.”This is not my fucking day. I tilted my head and considered how to fix this with one hand. “Can you take your clothes off by yourself?”

Ryan nodded and stripped quicker than I would have thought possible.

I wrapped my free arm around the kid’s waist and hoisted him into the kitchen sink. The little guy looked at me as if I’d lost my mind but squatted like a quarterback waiting to receive the ball.

I used the sprayer to hose down Ryan’s butt and legs. Still holding the baby, I grabbed a dish cloth, patted him dry, and set him on the floor.

Chloe stood near the kitchen door with her hands on her hips and a look of pure disgust on her face. “Gross.”

“I agree, but my options were limited.” I popped the lid on my mother’s frittata. “Look what grandma Evelyn dropped off.”

Both kids screwed up their faces.

Ryan said, “It has green stuff.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? I’ll figure something else out.” I motioned toward the stairs. “Go get dressed, little man. Chloe, sweetie. Can you put Ryan’s pajamas and the dish towel in the laundry room?”

“Eww. No way.” She shook her head. “I’d rather eat broccoli frittata than touch pee pants.”

It’s too freaking early for this. Struggling to function with one hand, I pulled a box of frozen waffles from the freezer and dropped two into the toaster.

At least Ella had quieted down. She seemed amused by the chaos.

Chloe pointed at the toaster. “Those are for Saturdays only.”

“Give me a break. I can’t find the instant oatmeal.”

My niece’s expression reminded me of Maggie’s when I’d chugged milk from the carton. It seemed they both thought me a moron.

“Because it’s not instant.” She shook her head and went back to her bedroom.

I considered the baby in my arms and frowned. I’d never thought about the difference between raising boys and girls. “You better be a tomboy when you grow up.”

Ryan came back to the kitchen wearing a lot of clothes, none of which matched. Since the kid didn’t have to leave the house, I didn’t mention his choice of wardrobe.

I poured syrup on the waffles and set the plate on the bar in front of Ryan. Remembering what Zach said about fruit, I added a banana.

Ryan shrugged, picked up the waffle whole, and ate it like a piece of toast.

Chloe returned with a brush and hair ties. She took one look at Ryan and rolled her eyes atme.

What the hell did I do now?

Obviously doubting my intelligence, she eyed me. “I need a bun today. I have dance class after school.”

“Okay, let’s see.” I buckled Ella into her carrier, tossed Ryan’s wet pajamas into the laundry room, and washed my hands.

The girl wrinkled her nose. “I’ll go ask Aunt Maggie to do it.”

“I got it.” Taking the brush from Chloe, I hesitated. I wore a ponytail on most days, but I’d never pulled someone else’s hair back, let alone a bun. I brushed her long brown hair, secured it near the base of her skull.

Chloe pulled a brown band from her wrist and handed it to me. “You have to twist it and put this around it.”

I vaguely remembered Maggie doing something similar. I wound Chloe’s hair until it coiled into a knot and stretched the second tie around the base. “How’s that?”

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