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“Good job on the cuss muffs. Just open the package. I’m trying to do something suave and not so wham bam in your face.”
I thought back over her clues while I handed Dylan over to Sawyer. Has my wife gone crazy? I ripped open the package and unfolded a shirt. It had a cape and super sperm printed in the middle.
I chuckled. “That is awesome. But I think we’ve figured out how to manage the super sperm.”
“You sure about that?”
Is she saying what I think she’s saying? If Sawyer was pregnant, I would be the happiest man on earth. I’d been contemplating how in the world I was going to bring it up without being threatened for castration. My poor beans, as Sawyer called them, did not need to be harmed. “What?”
“Oh, they found a way.”
I leaned forward to put my hands over Dylan’s ears—cuss muffs. “No fucking way! Are you serious?”
“Yes. Looks like we have a little souvenir from our honeymoon.”
I kept the cuss muffs on. “No fucking way!”
“Oh yes way. See, I found the shirt. Which got me thinking about how I still hadn’t been regular since having Dylan, which got me to take a pregnancy test, which led me to the doctor to confirm.”
Absolute joy flowed through me. I put my hands in the air. “Super sperm! I knew it.”
“So, you’re happy?”
“Elated.”
Sawyer started jumping with Dylan, who laughed along with us.
“Don’t jiggle the baby, Sawyer.”
Dylan moved his arms to keep jumping. “You’re going to be a big brother.”
I stepped closer, worried Sawyer might not be ready. “You happy, baby?”
“Ecstatic. But after this one, we’re going to have to either put Mister Winkie on bread and water or take more drastic measures. Otherwise, I’m going to be thirty with half a dozen kids. And that is not happening.”
“Got it.” Then I kissed her hard. “You’ve made me the happiest person on earth.”
“Back at you, Mr. Rockstar.”
Epilogue
Five years later with three kids
Sawyer
I walked into the house after a girls’ lunch out with Knoah, Monica, Nina, and Paulisa. From upstairs, I heard the muffled sounds of laughter, which brought a smile to my face.
The afternoon away at the spa had done wonders. The other moms agreed. Knoah now had two children: Adaline, who would soon be five, and Mason, who was almost five months old. Cameron had two kids with another on the way. Monica had been the only one daring enough to join the mom-of-three club with me. Nina and Edge had said no more after their set of twins, who were two. And Paulisa and Hastings had one with another on the way.
Our lives were full—beyond full—of happiness and joy.
George greeted me at the base of the stairs. “Hey, buddy. Where is everyone?”
The brilliant dog that he was led me up the steps to the opening of the conservatory. The windows were open and the kids were piled on top of Kurt, play wrestling. Dylan held Kurt’s hands above his head while the two younger ones tickled their daddy. Mad
dison, who we called Maddie, was two years old. Waylon was almost four.
Three boys against two girls kept my color-coded, sticky-note organized life in a constant state of flux. This morning, Waylon had a Micro Machine toy car stuck up his nose and Dylan tried to relocate Maddie’s fish to the toilet because the bowl was bigger. It was never a dull moment. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
