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Maybe?
“That’s right.” Hopefully. “I bought you the wall hammocks, remember?”
And I was going to order another as soon as I figured out where I’d left my phone. The two he had already were not going to hold all those stuffed animals that had recently appeared.
Where had the elephant come from?
Okay, I was going to order two more.
“How about we go make nuggets and cheesy poofy taters? We need some dinner and I think you even have a cucumber we can cut up.” I thought they were as gross as he thought green beans were but sometimes Daddies had to suffer for their Littles.
“And lots of ranch?” His wiggles were coming back as he thought about dipping his food. Playing with his dinner was as much fun as eating it, although it’d taken me a few meals together to realize that. “And spicy sauce?”
“Yes, and the barbecue sauce too.” If he was going to have a kitchen, we needed to make sure we didn’t get rid of all the random condiments he had. “Then we’ll make up the last of the cookies since now I can bring you more.”
I wasn’t going to let anyone else deliver goodies to my sunshine.
They might realize how cute he was and I’d hate to have to kill a coworker.
“Let’s get my princess all dressed up and we’ll have nuggets.” This level of Little called for a princess dress and probably a tiara too.
“Oh, I’ll look so pretty, Daddy.” Eyes all lit up, Addison wiggled and smiled and immediately jumped up to go to the closet that thankfully hadn’t been packed up yet. “Um, which one, Daddy?”
“The red one, princess sunshine.” Because if he spilled barbecue sauce on that, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Sooner or later the princess was going to need some kind of pretty apron to keep his dresses clean.
Getting up slightly slower, I went over and helped him start stripping off his clothes as all his focus jumped to the dress in the closet. He managed to keep the rocking to a minimum but it still wasn’t easy to change his clothes.
“Daddy’s pretty sunshine. Daddy’s princess sunshine. Pretty princess for Daddy.” As the song continued, I managed to get him dressed in the red princess outfit and matching panties. “Daddy’s Little princess.”
Whirling around, he looked down at his feet and frowned. “Fancy shoes?”
“I think you should be Daddy’s barefoot princess. That will make it easier to play.” And would make me less worried.
The princess twirled again, rising up on his toes. “Ballerina princess.”
That worked for me.
“That’s perfect.” But what should the ballerina princess do while I made dinner? “Do you want me to get your sparklies out and you can work on a picture for me while I get dinner ready?”
I would never understand where my wiggly cutie got the patience to create pictures out of tiny colored crystals he called diamonds, but he loved it and I had several pictures on my fridge at home proving it.
“Oh yes.” Nodding as he stopped whirling around, the theatrics were long gone for the moment. “I’ll get them. I can do it.”
Thankfully he was right about that and was always very careful with the millions of tiny beads that lived in a small repurposed antique sewing table. I still thought he should do something with the furniture he was so good at refinishing but it seemed to be a hobby for him like all his craft projects.
Hmm, maybe the princess was the one redoing the furniture and that’s why grown-up Addison didn’t see it as a job?
“You do a wonderful job at being careful with them.” I had a feeling there was an epic disaster in the past that had given him such caution but I wasn’t going to ask about the trauma. I just appreciated that it meant he was good about keeping them organized and off the floor.
“Thank you, Daddy.” He gave me an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek before nearly bouncing over the piles scattered around the playroom and down the hall.
We’d have to talk about his worries at some point but I was putting it off because I wasn’t sure what he’d think about my solution. There was also the fact that he did have a lot going on but I didn’t want to point that out either.
No matter what style of housing he’d been put into, he was going to be rooming with a stranger and that seemed like a gamble. Playing the lottery sounded like it had better odds than the chances of Addison being paired with someone who understood his Little side.
I was pretty sure the best we could hope for was that his roommate spent a lot of time out of the apartment. But I wasn’t sure that was something we could count on. It felt like a no-win situation, so I understood Addison’s stress.
