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“I love this cologne. I need to find out the name of it. I would bathe in it.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Uh, I like the jersey?”
“Uh huh, and?”
“Go, Giants?” I raise my fist for a little extra enthusiasm.
“Babe,” Parker swallows. “Look again.”
I turn the Jersey back and forth and shake my head. “What?! Out with it already!”
“One more time,” Parker insists, her eyes as wide as her smile.
I turn the jersey over again when it finally hits me.
MRS. JENNER
“Dad! Someone’s at the door!” I hear Dante call as I sink into my freshly-filled tub.
“Then go get it, son!”
“I’m filming!”
“Where’s your mom?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m in the tub! Can you two stop yelling and get the door?”
“Dad!”
“Get the door, Dante! I’ve got Toby with me.”
I tense up. “You don’t know who it is, don’t send him to the door!”
“I’m setting up the intercom, so we don’t sound like the damned Costanzas anymore!”
“Who’s the Costanzas?” Dante asks.
“Google it.”
“I’m filming!”
“Jesus,” I say, grabbing my towel. “Shut up, shut up, you two or you’re going to wake the baby. I’ve got it!”
I can hear the nervousness in my husband’s voice when he hears the irritation in mine. “I’ve got it, baby. Stay in the tub.”
“I’ve got it, Mom!”
I sigh, covered in suds with one foot out of the tub. “Somebody, please just get the door!”
And that’s when Zoe, our three-month-old, decides to speak up and our one-year-old joins in, doing his own impression of a Costanza.
“I used my key!” Parker calls out from the entryway. “Merry Christmas, Jenners!”
“Mom,” Dante calls, “You woke Zoe up.”
“This is ridiculous. You sure this is what you want?” Troy says behind the door.
