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He shot me a teasing glare as he went to get Ian’s divided tray off the table. “I’m Uncle Cohen. I’m supposed to be the mushy one. You’re supposed to make the rules.”
The word rules had Ian scrunching up his face and pouting at Cohen. “No rules. Uncle Cohen?”
Clearly, he was hoping Uncle Cohen would be the fun parent in this interesting relationship. But as I placed the diced-up pizza on the tray, Cohen sighed and shrugged. “There has to be a few rules, cutie. But rules mean rewards too.”
They did?
The promise of rewards had Ian perking up again. “Three, Uncle Cohen?”
Before he could get his Uncle Cohen to promise him the moon, I brought the food back over to the table to distract them both. “Here you go. Cohen, would you grab us both a few slices?”
“Sure.” Thankfully, neither of them went back to the one, two, three question as Cohen dished up several slices for us and I found drinks.
As I pulled out glasses, Cohen pointed to another cabinet. “There is a sippy cup over in that one. I found it along with the tray and some bottles.”
I knew there’d be bottles somewhere.
“Thanks.” Filling up a sippy cup with water, I brought it over to the table and crouched down by Ian, who was now giving me a curious look.
“I think I saw a bottle with a bunny on it.” Kissing his cheek as he giggled, I pointed to the sippy cup. “You have lots of bunnies.”
I wanted to ask if he wanted a bottle later, maybe at bedtime or when Cohen was reading him a book, but I had a feeling that might be too much for him to figure out in his current headspace. It seemed like more of a Daddy decision and not something he should have to make decisions on…an assume first and apologize later kind of situation.
“Bunnies.” Ian wrapped his fingers around the fork that matched his tray and pointed to the cabinet. “Lots.”
I had to agree, and I had a feeling that was his way of acknowledging we were all good with the bottles and goodies he had up in the cabinet. “You have lots of wonderful bunnies.”
Some of which we were going to explore after dinner.
As we ate, I tried to decide if giving him his bottle was something I wanted to do myself or if it was something I wanted us to explore together. It wouldn’t be his first bottle, I knew that, but it was a first for us…all three of us, really.
“One. Two. Three.” He laughed, acting like the Count from Sesame Street as he finished his food and waved gimme fingers around the room. “Surprise.”
He was a very sweet little and wonderfully subtle.
Cohen just laughed, egging the cheeky little on. “Hmm, should I look to see if there’s a surprise for a good boy who ate his grapes?”
I just rolled my eyes…they were grapes, not brussels sprouts.
“Good boy.” Ian sat taller, then gave Cohen a beaming smile. “One. Two. Three.”
He knew which of us to suck up to.
How had I become the disciplinarian parent?
Cohen just gave him another beaming smile like counting to three to manipulate his Uncle Cohen was an amazing feat. “Yes, you’ve been a very good boy.”
Nodding eagerly, Ian wiggled in his seat again. “Good boy. Surprise. Books.”
Since that got another big grin from Uncle Cohen, it was my turn to raise one eyebrow and give him the questioning look. As he stood up to go give the manipulating cutie his treat, he saw my expression and chuckled. “I promised to read him a book.”
Ian’s giggle was pure naughty toddler excitement, so I gave Cohen another curious expression as he pulled the cookies out of the cabinet above the fridge. “How did that come up?”
Now they were both giggling like naughty toddlers.
How had they gotten in trouble without even seeing each other since Saturday?
“I’m not even going to guess.” Shaking my head as they giggled conspiratorially, I gave them both stern glares that made their laughter even louder. “It seems like I have two troublemakers.”
Ian shook his head, barely looking away from the box of goodies he was fascinated with. “Good boy. Good Uncle.”
The uncle in question started nodding as he made a ta-da gesture and opened the box to show off the chocolate chip cookies. “Good boys and good uncles deserve cookies.”
More happy wiggles had the table rocking as Ian nodded excitedly. “One, two, three?”
Cohen nodded before I could even ask if he thought Ian needed three cookies. “Because you’ve been so good.”
And because Uncle Cohen was glad Ian wasn’t too nervous to be little around him.
Three turned into four because Ian was sweet and I’d left to go to the bathroom for thirty seconds.
At least, they said it was only one more, but the giggles made me skeptical.
