Brat.
“There’s nothing I can do about that, so I’m not going to apologize.” Again. “You’re cute. I like you. I like taking care of you.”
His sigh was so overdramatic he could’ve been on Broadway.
He was mostly over it by the time we got home and I knew that because he dragged me into my place like we were racing toward the finish. “List time. Let’s go. I need my crayon, Daddy.”
I’d gotten blue because that was a Daddy color and the color of blueberries.
He’d gotten red because the best fruits and vegetables were red.
“Alright, but then you have to tell me which one you want to work on next.” Because I hadn’t planned on bottoming tonight, so we needed to schedule that one in advance if he was actually going to talk about it.
Somehow it’d ended up on his list but he was a master of changing the subject when it came up.
“I know. I know which one.” We were back down to henchmen level of evil laugh, but it wasn’t any less concerning. “I know.”
What did he know?
I managed to wait until we got to the fridge where he’d put up our well-decorated list with vines and fruits and toys drawn all around the edges. Somehow art was for fun and not something he’d ever considered doing as any kind of career, but I wasn’t sure where the logic had come from.
“Mine. Mine. Mine.” Doing a little wiggle, he carefully checked off the box he’d drawn for meeting my family. “All done.”
“So?” I wasn’t going to randomly start guessing what his next goal was going to be. “Which one are you going to work on next?”
I was not in charge of this project in any way.
“Mine.” Bouncing excitedly, the crayon went flying but I was focused on catching the firecracker that threw himself at me. “Mine.”
“Yours.” Giving him a quick peck, I turned us around and leaned back against the counter so he couldn’t accidentally take me out.
Again.
“You’re my Daddy.” He hugged me tight, snuggling himself as close as humanly possible. “Mine.”
“All yours.” Had meeting my family made him feel more possessive? “And sadly, that makes you even more special.”
Nodding, he shifted to his serious face and sighed. “I know.”
It was hard but someone had to do it.
“I’m glad you understand.” He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to pull away, so I gave him another kiss, just enjoying belonging to him. “I can’t help that you’re special.”
Shrugging, he nodded seriously. “You just can’t help it.”
Wondering where our conversation was going, I tried to be patient. “I can’t help finding you cute and liking playing with you either.”
“I’m cute.” His serious tone and the kiss on the cheek he gave me had me trying not to smile. “You can’t help liking to play with me or even liking making me snacks and reading me books.”
“And I can’t help liking giving you baths and snuggling with you.” I returned his shrug and sighed. “You’re just special.”
Scrunching his face up, he gave a decisive nod. “You can’t help loving your special boy.”
Oh.
That was what we were checking off.
Got it.
