16: The Huff
Dash/Beau
Dash
June 2023
“Chop, chop,” I hollered from the bottom of the staircase. “We’re in the final stretch.”
“What does chop, chop mean?” Mia asked from the top of the stairs on the second floor, inhibited from her descent due to the professional-grade gates we had installed at the top and bottom of the staircase. “And final stretch? Does that mean the reporter person’s almost here?”
“It means he wants us to get downstairs for a once-over to make changes before theHuffington Postreporter arrives,” Livie explained, coming to stand beside her sister, seemingly distracted. Her concentration and fingers worked deftly at adjusting the midsection of her dress. “I can’t get my belt to lay properly. I don’t like wrinkles, Daddy. Trade me belts, Mia.”
“Liv, I’ll help you,” Beau called from somewhere on the second floor.
With a sigh, I dropped my chin to my chest as Mia and Livie left the gate to make the wardrobe change. Seconds ago, I’d only needed four more children plus my husband at the gate to get my whole family downstairs. Now, we were back to seven missing members.
“Fisher, go stand by the gate and keep your hands tucked in your pockets. Hunter, stay by my side. West, get your boots on, man. I shouldn’t have to ask you twice.”
Hearing my love wrangle our children into order sent happiness shooting through my system.
“Like Fisher can ever do that,” Ava said loudly.
“Maybe today he can,” Mia, always the positive one, argued on his behalf.
I was compelled to trot up the stairs to save my little champ. Fisher was our overactive two-and-a-half-year-old. Being made to stand alone would be a fate worse than death for him.
Beau and I now had six vibrant children, all bursting with uniquely different personalities. West was like Beau’s mini-me, mirroring him in looks and words—our pint-size cowboy in training. Since West was the first male in either the Richmond-Brooks or Lee families, Scott also had a pretty solid influence on my oldest son. Only time would tell how that might play out.
Behind Fisher in age came Hunter, who was biologically Beau’s son. They had a year between them. Whatever trouble Fisher found himself in, Hunter was there with him too. One of Fisher’s favorite pastimes was to tackle Hunter. Hunter was taller and bigger than Fisher who was my biological son. They’d happily roll around on the floor no matter where we were, wrestling until pieces of furniture and decorations lay in rubble.
They’d even knocked over a cereal-stocked endcap at the grocery store while in Amelia’s care. She adored those little guys but had developed a strict policy against going out in public with them unless additional adult supervision came along for the ride.
Fisher and Hunter were a handful for Duke and Dixie too. By the dog’s very nature, they couldn’t resist the urge to join in on their fun. Other times, the dogs were vigilant watchdogs, barking to alert us whenever the boys took their fun times too far.
Who knew that having two boys so close in age could create such chaos?
I hoisted Fisher over the gate, placing him on his feet. “Hold my hand. We’ll go down together.”
Hunter came sprinting toward me, eager for a lift too. I left Fisher at the gate at the bottom step. “Stay here, hands in pockets. I’m going back for Hunter.” West was now standing right beside Hunter. Good, three down, but the wrong three. Two minutes of waiting time and these three would make my super clean house a mess. I stared at Fisher, waiting for any sort of confirmation that he heard me.
He tucked his hands back into his pockets and nodded. On the pivot, I jogged back up the steps and lifted West over. He was handsome and dashing in his normal cowboy wear, but today, we were all color coordinated so his pearl button shirt was a fancy color.
I placed West on the step beside me. He could walk down without a problem, and hoisted Hunter up. I kept hold of him against my side as I started down. So maybe ten full seconds had passed since I pulled Fisher over, and my boy was already climbing over the bottom gate to get to the other side. “Hey! Fish, don’t you do it.”
He grinned proudly, clearly thrilled with his progress, and nodded his understanding while trying to move faster to get over the gate before I got to him. With Hunter still tucked under one arm, I made it to Fisher when his second leg rounded the top of the gate. I managed to grab the waistband of his khaki trousers to keep him from falling to the floor. “Fisher, you must behave today. This is not behaving.”
“I think he should stay upstairs with Abuela. No chance, he’s good on his own,” West commented, clumping down the steps in his boots.
West wasn’t wrong. I put Hunter on his feet and adjusted my grip on Fisher to bring him eye level. He looked less like me than the girls did, but he was still a cute little guy, with a good nature and free spirit. Even if I was quite possibly looking down the well of many different prison stays with all the trouble he was bound to get into. “Fisher, are you going to be good for me today?”
It was the same smile and nod as seconds ago. Such a charmer. “Yep.”
“Good boy,” I said. Either he didn’t understand the meaning of “yep” or he just thought it was easier to agree with me and do what he wanted anyway, I wasn’t sure. Either way, I didn’t believe him. “And do you remember the code word we say whenever you need to settle down?” I asked.
“Fisher,” he blurted and began kicking his feet in the air.
“Correct,” I said, and put him down on the other side of the gate. “Please listen to us today. We have to be gentlemen while our company’s here.”
