Rhett
Six years later
My arms are moving at a furious pace, but my legs are barely moving. “Come back here.”
A chorus of voices echoes in the backyard in protest as they run in a circle.
“I’m going to catch you.” I roar like a lion before pounding my chest like a silverback gorilla.
The little voices yell louder before their tiny legs carry them across the lawn.
“You can’t run away from me.” I stare down at the puppies at my feet. “Stark. Ziggy. Go get ‘em!” I point to the bunch of little people who think they can escape from me.
Nothing.
I point with more determination.
That’s not enough to rally the troops.
Our eight-week-old black and white pups stare up at me, tilting their heads from side to side.
“You’re supposed to attack on command,” I say.
If they don’t roll on the grass, playing with each other.
Good grief.
“Ah, forget it. I’ll do it myself.” I scoop up the puppies and carry them as I trot after my kids. “I’m coming for you.”
They let out piercing shrieks.
You’d think someone’s trying to murder them. Never mind we’ve played this game a million times. From their unfiltered reaction, you’d think it was the first.
Carina steps outside.
“MOOOOMMY!” All three boys crash into her, before hiding behind her. They’re giggling like crazy.
The fourth child trips.
Uh, oh.
For a few seconds, she stares up, startled. Then, she bursts out in a hysterical laughter.
She isn’t hurt.
Still, I’ll send my soldiers anyway.
I drop the puppies to the ground. “Go help her up.”
Stark and Ziggy charge towards our daughter. She giggles even more when the pups lick her beautiful face.
“Hey, darlin’.” I wave, a smile the size of Texas stretching my lips.
My wife places her hands on her hips. “Rhett Sullivan Jones Blanchard, what are you thinking?”
We all went to church this morning. She traded the pretty pink Sunday dress for a yellow V-neck maxi dress with a floral pattern, which only emphasizes her growing belly. Her long dark hair is piled on top of her head, leaving her beautiful face unframed.
“They’re going to be all worked up,” she says. “You know they’re a handful. At this rate, we’ll never be able to convince them to take a nap after lunch.”
