2
In his dream, Alex Davis is trying to catch his dog, Bart, so he can take a tennis ball off him. Bart’s love of eating tennis balls has ended in three hefty vet bills already, and in this dream, he’s eaten half a dozen of the damned things and nobody can catch him. Alex knows it’s just a dream, not because of the tennis balls, but because his mother-in- law Allie is watching from a recliner. She’s sipping a cocktail and laughing with her granddaughter Ally. Alex and Ben’s daughter, was born two months after his mother-in-law’s death, which is how he knows it must be a dream.
Just as Alex is about to snag Bart’s collar, the snuffling sounds of their younger daughter about to cry catch his attention. The dream slips away, and he opens his eyes when there’s a second whimper from the baby monitor. Swinging his legs out of bed he pulls his tee-shirt on over his blue pajama pants and crosses the hall to her room. The nine-month-old is sitting in the corner of her crib, pulling on the feet of her onesie with one hand and sucking the fingers of the other hand. By the look of things, she’s getting ready to voice her displeasure at having no bottle yet but gives him a wide, drool filled smile revealing four teeth. This room used to belong to Ben’s grandmother, Polly, but at ninety-seven she’s conceded defeat to the staircase and taken over the downstairs guestroom.
“Hey Lulu bug.” He scoops the little girl into his arms, smiling at the way she snuggles into his neck, kicking against his stomach.
Alex sings Teddy Bear’s Picnic in her ear as they go downstairs, stomach growling when the smell of bacon cooking and the sound of barking and giggles greets them from the kitchen. When he opens the door, Bart, thankfully with no tennis balls in sight, bounces over, tongue lolling and tail wagging. Ben, dressed in old jeans and a faded shirt, stands at the stove, tongs in one hand, coffee mug in the other. His blonde hair points in every direction and there’s a smear of something – butter? - on his face. Bacon and eggs are about Ben’s limit in the kitchen and even then, it's rare for him to come out unscathed. Ally, who will be four next month, looks up from her coloring.
“Daddy,” she squeals with a wide smile, bright green eyes shining. She’s wearing Pooh Bear pajamas and, Alex is startled to see, has a diaper on her head. He bends down to kiss her cheek, cradling Lucy’s head with his hand. “I have a diapy hat.”
“Morning monster, so I see.”
He retrieves Lucy’s bottle from the warmer, settles her into the crook of his elbow and grins when small hands clasp the bottle and small feet stick straight up in the air. She settles into the serious business of having her bottle while looking at him with wide, unblinking, hazel eyes. Holding her away from the stove, he winds his free arm around Ben’s waist.
“Morning.” He nuzzles Ben’s neck; he smells warm and buttery. “Why is our daughter wearing a diapy hat?”
“Why do you insist on wearing those ridiculous pajamas? Such are the mysteries of the universe, baby.”
Alex rolls his eyes and sits down, shifting Lucy to a more comfortable position.
“Idiot.”
“Idiot who loves you,” Ben replies. He takes a small plate of scrambled egg to Ally. “And, I might add, who is cooking you breakfast Okay, munchkin, no diapy hats at the table please. Coloring on the island, time for eggs.”
“Daddy’s not a baby,” Ally says as she puts her coloring on the island, laying the diapy hat next to it with care, “Daddy’s a growed-up. Lulu bug is a baby.”
“Shows what you know.” Ben hands Alex a cup of coffee and sets a plate of bacon and eggs on the table in front of him. “Lulu bug isn’t a baby, she’s a bug. Didn’t you know that?”
Ally, still standing on her chair, puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head.
“Idiot.” Her tone is an exact echo of the one Alex used a minute earlier. Alex chokes on his coffee and looks up to see Ben, mouth hanging open, his plate of breakfast forgotten in his hand.
“Ally, don’t call Papa an idiot,” Alex tries not to laugh, “that’s rude.”
“You did.” Ally sits, picks up her small fork and shovels a forkful of egg into her mouth, eyes still on her taller father, waiting for an explanation.
“Well it’s different for grownups,” he says.
“Why?”
Alex groans. He hasn’t had enough coffee for why.
“Because sometimes it’s a way of being cute, like when I call Daddy baby, or you, munchkin,” Ben intervenes. Alex watches her mull this over; she’s an intelligent child who likes words and is often distracted by them. Polly is convinced it means she’ll be an award-winning writer someday, but Alex will just be grateful if it saves them from an hour of hearing the word why on repeat.
“Or Lucy, Lulu bug,” he adds.
“Oh, it’s a nicker name?”
“Nickname,” Alex corrects. “Yes, sort of, but it’s not a good nickname for little girls to use, okay? Especially not to their Papa.”
The little girl considers this for a moment, then shrugs, nudges her plate toward Ben’s, and climbs in his lap.
“Sorry, Papa,” she says, and leans her head back against his chest. Ben picks up some scrambled egg with his fork and lifts it to her mouth.
For a couple of moments, they eat breakfast in silence. As Alex gets up to refill Ally’s sippy cup with milk, the door swings open and Polly comes in. She’s dressed in a long, denim skirt and a neon pink sweater that matches her chin length neon pink hair. Retiring from writing three years earlier has dimmed some of her spark, but she still fills the room with warmth and energy.
“Olly,” Ally cries.
Refusing to be called Grandma, Polly became Olly when Ally was smaller and couldn’t quite pronounce her name. Ally bounces on her father’s lap and knocks his fork, and the bacon it had just pierced, flying. Ben sighs when Bart pounces on it and Alex has to fight another wave of laughter as he shifts Lucy to his shoulder and holds his free arm out, so Ally can get on his lap allowing Ben to serve Polly some breakfast and himself some more bacon.
“Good morning small creatures,” Polly kisses first Ally, then Lucy. She accepts her coffee and sits down with a yawn. “What have we all been doing this morning?”
“I was coloring, and I made a diapy hat, and Daddy called Papa idiot, but I can’t call him that ‘cause I not a growed up.”
Polly looks at Alex, eyebrows raised.
“That’s pretty much it in a nutshell,” he says and rubs his cheek on Ally’s head.
Ben swallows the piece of bacon he's chewing and drops a kiss on Polly’s head as he serves her a dish of scrambled eggs and takes Lucy. Sits back down and puts a toast crust in her pudgy hand to suck on. Alex offers Ally some of his scrambled egg, but she shakes her head; he looks at her plate at the end of the table, she’s eaten most of it, so he doesn’t insist.
“Business as usual then,” Polly says with a grin.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Why can’t I wear my jeans?” Ally kicks her feet against the legs of her chair. The Pooh Bear pajamas have been replaced by a pink party dress tied with a bow at the back.
“Because it’s a birthday party for Charlotte.” Alex grits his teeth and parts her hair to form pigtails. He hates doing her hair, Ben is so much better at it.
“Yeah but why can’t I wear my jeans?”
“Because it’s nice to dress up for birthday parties.”
He winds a matching pink ribbon around the pig tail and moves to the other side.
“Why?”
“Because everyone wants to look pretty.”
“Why?”
Alex sighs and reaches for the other ribbon.
“Because it’s a special occasion.”
“Why?”
Alex closes his eyes and crouches down in front of her. How does Ben always know when Ally is going to be in the mood to question everything and so chooses to change Lucy?
“Because it’s her birthday and you’re going there to celebrate it with her and have fun.”
“So why can’t I wear my jeans? I can’t have fun in a stupid dress.”
Knowing better than to assume he has any chance of winning the argument, Alex tries distraction as a tactic. He puts the hairbrush on Ally’s dresser and turns to look at her.
“Stand up and twirl, monster.”
Ally rolls her eyes and looks so much like Ben it’s eerie. The skirt of the dress billows out to reveal chubby knees, one sporting an Olaf band-aid. Alex crouches and adjusts the white socks and checks her laces are secure. Stands and holds his hand out.
“Let’s go show Papa what a beautiful monster you are.”
Giggling she encloses his hand in both of hers and pulls him to the staircase.
✽ ✽ ✽