Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 18476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
While it’s no shock to me that he doesn’t answer, I am a little surprised when Blu parks himself beside me and suggests, “How about Uncle Blu records all three of you feeding the reindeer and sends it to good ol’ Jolly Saint Ditch?”
“Yeahhhh!!!” they squeak in excitement, enthusiastically clapping in tandem.
“Go on,” he happily insists at the same time he bounces his newest bundle of sweetness in his arms. “Go get in line behind your cousins. I’ll wait back here with Mom until it’s your turn.”
Hand in hand they slide directly in the row behind T’s oldest who is closest to them in age and immediately begin to ramble about all the things they’re going to do with the pair of creatures they decided needed better names than the ones they originally had.
Can’t argue with them there.
Rainbow and Sprinkles are much better names for reindeer than Sam and Steve.
“Thanks, Blu,” I mutter under my breath, arms folding across my chest, phone still in hand on the off chance he calls right back.
“Yeah, no problem. We’ll nominate this moment for my Godfather of the Year award.” His bouncy green lettering instantly has me shaking my head with a crooked grin. “I mean I win one every year, but I like to know which one pushed me to the top.” Chuckles from us both precede him asking, “Seriously, shouldn’t Wahl have been back by now?”
My oldest nephew takes over assisting Cassie with the younger children allowing me to meet his gaze. “That’s what I thought too.”
“I blame Kolby.” An impish smirk slips onto his lips. “I don’t know why, I don’t know exactly how, but my gut says, it’s Kolby’s fault.”
“Because it can’t be your fault?” I playfully tease in return.
“Or Reynolds,” he reminds on a louder laugh. “That f-er is inside on present surveillance.”
“What?”
“Some of the kids have apparently been blitz attacking the gifts, trying to get sneak peeks of what’s inside, and since it was his kid he caught in action, he put himself on guard duty.”
Snickers are attached to additional headshakes.
“I swear every year all our children become mini operatives on some joint task force with one main Christmas related mission in mind. Remember last year and The White Christmas Crusade?”
“So many marshmallows…So many sticky surfaces.”
“And I think Baby Bee here,” he gives his four-month-old a loving bounce to get her giggling again, “is already in on the operation. Pretty sure she sounds the alarm for when an adult is approaching.”
Like Slater, Blu loves being a dad.
Getting to do all the dad things.
Come to think of it…so does Reynolds.
And my brothers.
And even Harvey.
It’s interesting to see them all not just come into their own but beat the odds so to speak. From the data I could gather regarding male parental figures active involvement – particularly in the early childhood development stages – I made some respective comparisons of them and the national statistics, just to see how they measure up so to speak – after successfully finding reassurance I wasn’t failing miserably on the mom spectrum – and it was incredible. So incredible that I couldn’t stop myself from sharing the stats with their wives.
Who then shared something else with them.
Who then all sent me texts of thanks for my service.
The whole thing was just giggle worthy and had Kolby claiming I probably just broke the record for most apples in one game.
Definitely not.
But it was still a sweet thing to hear.
“I’m just glad we get to be here this year at all,” Blu proclaims at the same time I glance back over at my twins that are now squabbling. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I missed Baby Bee’s first Christmas Eve and Christmas.”
The statement has me slowly turning my stare back to him. “Why would you have missed it?”
“They moved up the next training assignment,” he informs as if I should already know. “Seventeen managed to get it pushed back a couple days, so we leave the day after Christmas instead of the day before, which doesn’t fucking feel like much, but it’s something. We still get to spend these two days with our families.”
Except my husband isn’t spending it with all of his family.
Just his irresponsible brother.
His very irresponsible brother who better have gotten my girls custom made gifts that he has to handmake himself for how long the process is taking.
“You know since having his own littles, Seventeen really leans into that shh more than he used to. He may be a number, but underneath it all? He’s still a family man like the rest of us. Minus the whole wears a suit to a birthday party for three-year-olds. Did he really think double trouble wasn’t going to get frosting on it?”
I sidestep the sentimental recalling to inquire, “When did you find out your next assignment got moved?”