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My wife was making crazy demands fitting of a warlord. She wanted the Christmas tree stripped of its ornaments, moved to a different room, and cut six inches shorter. That was on top of rearranging the nursery this morning, cleaning out the pantry, and calling all over town to see if she could get in for a "bang trim" today. Whatever the fuck thatwas.
My daughter was—still—cutting teeth and chewing on anything she could get into her mouth, including chair legs and one very tolerant dog's tail. She was "helping" Shannon with her tree relocation project by yanking ornaments from the branches and tossing them to the dogs. The dogs, of course, interpreted this as a game offetch.
My mother was simultaneously washing a million pieces of newborn clothing and linens, baking eighty-four pies, and singing off-key holiday tunes. The washing was Shannon's request, and I was damn thankful my mother was here to pick up that task but she'd turned the kitchen upside down in theprocess.
My father was rearranging the exterior holiday lights because I'd done it wrong. I pointed him in the direction of the ladders and staple gun without argument because last night was blessedly free from headboard banging and I knew how to pick mybattles.
The military didn't prepare me forthis.
"You are a precious little banshee, aren't you?" I asked, scooping my daughter up and prying a dog-slobbered ornament from herhands.
She laughed and shrieked while I lifted her like a barbell, then snuggled her into the crook of my neck. She cooed a long string of "da-da-da" and clapped her hands on my face, and I knew in my bones that the real terrorists were little baby girls with chubby cheeks and ringlets. No man alive was safe from theircharms.
"Judy," I called over my shoulder. "We need you inhere."
My mother bustled in from the kitchen, a flour-dusted apron tied around her waist and a swaddling blanket in her hands. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Where's Shannon? Last I saw, she was heading down to the basement. She needs to rest, Will. I haven't seen her sit down oncetoday."
"Nothing is wrong," I said carefully. "But I need you to wrangle this cherub for a bit while I work on Shannon." I lifted Abby over my head, inciting another round of giggles. "Can you give Abby some lunch and try to get her down for anap?"
"I'd love to," my mother said, holding out her hands for Abby. "Can you help me make pies, Miss Abigael? I'm sure you can roll somedough."
"You could also sing a little less loudly," I suggested. "Or, not atall."
"It's the holidays, Will," she said. "A few carols never hurtanyone."
I rubbed my temples and blew out a breath. I wasn't going to argue over this point. "Is Dad still outside?" I asked, glancing to the window. He'd be thrilled to handle this bullshit with thetree.
My mother huffed as she ran her fingers through Abby's white-blonde curls. "He is," she said, those two words loaded with aggravation. "I told him that if he fell off the roof and cracked his fool head open, he was driving himself to thehospital."
"That works for me." I propped my hands on my hips, nodding. "I have a few chores forhim."
"Keep him off the ladders," she said, turning back toward thekitchen.
"That shouldn't be a problem," Ireplied.
"And keep him away from the grocery stores," she yelled from the hallway. "He always gets distracted and comes home with things we don'tneed."
"Rogerthat."
"We have ten boxes of rice pilaf in the RV," she continued, yelling from the kitchen. "Who is going to eat all that? Do y'all need any rice? We just don't have theroom."
"Good on rice, Judy.Thanks."
Shaking my head, I looked down at the soggy pile of ornaments on the floor. Knowing that our child found it necessary to touch, grab, and throw everything at her level, Shannon had ordered fabric decorations for this year's tree. It saved us from cleaning up broken glass and rushing to the hospital for stitches, but now I had an armful of expensive hand-sewn chewtoys.
"What the devil happened here?" my fatherasked.
I glared at him. Actually glared at him. He was wearing a Navy ball cap with jeans and a flannel shirt, both without a wrinkle in sight. He looked well-rested, and I didn't have any patience for that right now. Not while Shannon was probably reorganizing the entire basement or digging up that boulder she kept complainingabout.
"Abby got a head start on your next project," Isaid.
"I'll get right on that as soon as I finish with these lights," hesaid.
"I'm relieving you of Christmas light duty," I said. "Shannon wants this tree moved to the family room. Make that happen. Saw a few inches off the tree, move furniture, roll up rugs, put an addition on the house. I don't care if you scrap this tree altogether and buy a new one. Do whatever you have to do, but stay off the ladders and out of the grocery stores.Understood?"
"Sir, yes sir," hereplied.
I pointed to the ornaments. "Salvage as much as you can and dispose of anything you can't, but do it carefully. Leave notrace."
