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Molly nodded.
“He's just challenging you to invent your very own recipe. Like Mommy does at the bakery. Molly’s Most Delicious SpaghettiSauce. He justknowsyour sauce is gonna be the secret to delicious spaghetti.”
That brought my little girl up short! She got a happier look on her beautiful little face.
I beamed at my wife. Samantha always knew what to say.
Samantha got out all sorts of vegetables from the fridge, handing them to Molly. She pulled out the cutting board, a knife, the blender, and a saucepan.
She was all eyes on me the whole time. She gave me her special look of love while addressing her spoken words to our oldest.
I didn’t care what my beautiful darling said. I’d soak in her voice, her face, her love, her beauty—all day and all night long.
“Daddy is going to be your sous chef. Okay? That means he’s yourhelper.He has to helpyouwith the cutting. He can helpyouwith the stove. He can helpyouwith the blending and pouring. Okay? But, remember, Molly! You’re thetopchef. That means you get to choose which vegetables go in your most delicious sauce. Then you and Daddy have to watch it cook—together. Got it?”
Samantha was grinning at me the whole time. My darlin’ wasreallytalking to me.
Food was just one of her many languages of love. I was helping her speak it to our persnickety daughter.
We both heard Molly’s now-happy agreement to eat my Special Spaghetti Recipe ... but only with the Molly’s Most ‘Licious Sauce “all over on top of it, Daddy!”
Samantha hadn’t taken her eyes off me and came over now to cuddle and kiss.
I started on her lips and inched mine towards her ear, singing, “DaddyluuuuvsMommy!”
She came back to my lips and kissed my cheek all the way to my ear, singing, “MommyluuuuvsDaddy!”
Molly did that funny thing we knew she’d do: She slapped her hand over her eyes when I started to kiss Samantha, shrieking, “Oh, Mommy-Daddy! NOOOOO! Notagain!Yuck, yuck, yucky!”
Then we swooped down on her together, lifting her and trapping her between us singing, “Mommy and DaddyluuuuvMolleeeee!”
She shrieked again but with delight this time as she accepted our loud kisses on her little cheeks.
We set her down. Came together for another very adult kiss behind our squeamish daughter’s back.
As Molly started bossing me around (and I loved it!), Samantha had to get busy elsewhere. In fact, we heard a suspicious thunk and a toddler’s shout of surprise.
On her way out of the kitchen, my lovely wife just said, “Okay, you two crazy creative cooks! Everybody's hungry! Get with it!” and she turned on her heel toward the children’s bedroom.
My OTL.
Seven years of marriage. Three children under the age of six. One more (our last, we’d agreed) on the way.
Samantha: Three-ish Months After That
Pretending exasperation, I teased, “Leighton, you are avoyeur! You know that, don’t you, baby? Remember what happened years ago to the bully burger-boy who kept lurking? Beware your fate!”
The baby had just finished suckling. Leighton didn’t miss a minute of the show, either.
“Darlin’! A husband’s gotta get an eyeful of his wife’s big titties! The babies can’t have all the fun!”
He pretended to pout. He leaned down to me not just to take Jason for a burp, but to kiss my breasts. And linger a bit.
“Mmm ...” I wanted more.
“I agree. Mmm-mmm-good! My darling, sexy, luscious-looking wife. Yummy!”
I promised my man we’d enjoy naked comfort in the absence of our older kids. Leighton was bare-butt naked with our fourth baby in his arms. I was tucked up on the sofa, and almost as bare.
