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I served two large chunks of steaming pasta onto plates so they could cool. I grabbed a soda out of the fridge for myself, and poured Henley some apple juice, making sure to put it in his favorite orange sippy cup. He said it was his favorite because of its squishy handles, but I was sure the picture of a race car on the front didn’t hurt either.
Once the table was set, I hustled back to the playroom, which Henley had made spotless. Every car was back in its bucket, and all of his toy food was tucked away. He beamed when I told him what a great job he did. “Now let’s get you washed up for dinner.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I led him into the bathroom, where I started the tap, making sure the water temperature wasn’t too hot before sliding his hands beneath it. I squirted a few pumps of soap onto his palms, and worked it into a lather as I scrubbed his skin.
While I loved playing with Henley and dressing him, I enjoyed these small moments just as much. He willingly gave over all control to me, and allowed me to handle his basic needs. The warm smile on his face told me that he loved it just as much.
“Okay, sweetheart; all clean.” I grabbed a hand towel and patted his skin dry. He chuckled as I carefully inspected his fingers, making sure there were no germs clinging on. But when they passed the test, I linked them with mine and led him towards the kitchen.
“Tonight’s dinner is a little too messy, but one evening we can have a picnic in your playroom if you’d like,” I suggested, and Henley’s jaw opened wide.
“Really? Oh, that sounds like so much fun! I love picnics!”
It was just an offhand thought, but after seeing how excited my boy was, I wished I had made finger foods so I could give him a picnic. But there was always tomorrow. It was easy to plan unlimited tomorrows with Henley.
“Mm, I love lasagna,” Henley hummed when we entered the kitchen and he spotted the food on the table. “And toast. And my sippy cup.”
I chuckled as I pulled out his chair and helped him settle in. I sat beside him, and held up my hand when he scooped a large bite onto his fork. “Careful, sweetheart; it might still be hot.”
He dropped his utensil at my warning, following my guidance without question. I picked up his fork and blew on his food before touching it to my bottom lip to make sure it wouldn’t burn him. It felt okay, so I reached the bite towards him. Instead of taking the fork with his own hand, he opened his mouth and allowed me to slide the bite between his lips.
“Ooh, that’s so yummy,” he said once he swallowed. “You’re such a good cook, Daddy.”
“Thank you.” I stabbed another bite onto his fork, blew on it, and fed him again. I knew he enjoyed being fed, and I loved it, too. I wanted to take care of every need he had, no matter how simple.
I took turns between his plate and mine, feeding him and myself. Henley patiently waited as I took a bite, and then opened widely for me to give him another. He even nibbled his toast out of my hand. He did use the sippy cup by himself, just to feel the squishy handles.
Once we ate every bite on our plates, Henley offered to help me with the dishes, but I had a better idea. I packed away the leftovers, and piled the dirty plates into a sink of soapy water to worry about later. Who wanted to worry about housework when I had a sweet little thing needing my attention?
Besides, I had something in mind I knew he would love. “Henley, watching you cook your delicious appetizer gave me an idea of a movie to watch. It’s about a little mouse who wants to be a chef.”
“A mouse chef?” Henley asked, his mouth and eyes both open wide. “That sounds so cute! Can we watch it now? Please, Daddy?”
“Of course.”
“Yay! I’m so excited! Oh wait, I’ll be right back.” He left the room in a flash, and returned carrying the fuzzy red blanket from the playroom. “Can we snuggle under this while we watch it?”
“Now that is a great idea.” He once again beamed with pride as I led him into the living room. We nestled together on my plush leather sofa, and I selected Ratatouille from the streaming service. I covered us up with the blanket, but Henley worked his hand out from under it.
“Can I have this, Daddy?” He opened his fist, revealing his binky. I wondered why he asked for my permission, but quickly realized what he wanted.
“Sure you can, kitten. You love having your binky while we snuggle, don’t you?” He nodded and I took the pacifier from his hand. He parted his lips and I slid the rubber nipple into his mouth. That’s what my sweet boy was waiting for; he wanted Daddy to give it to him.
