“Just a little bit,” I respond as something crashes nearby.
We’re off the bed and dressed in under a minute, Sawyer out the door seconds before I am.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” Jake says as I come upon the crime scene. Half a container of apple juice seeps across the kitchen floor. Jake runs a soggy dishtowel through it. “I clean it up. When we make a mess, we clean it, right, Daddy?”
Oh, God. I squeak and cough into my hand while Sawyer gives me a once-over while trying not to laugh.
“That’s right, buddy.”
“Were you guys having a nap too?” Jake looks up from the floor, eyelashes blinking, and I wonder how many years we have left of his complete unsullied innocence.
Probably not many, but I’m going to enjoy every one of them.
And all the years that follow.
A couple weeks later we do take him to a grocery store, but we skip Whole Foods in favor of the Di Bruno’s on Chestnut. It’s less than a half mile walk from Sawyer’s, which means Jake walks about half of it and gets piggyback rides the remainder of the journey. He’s thrilled to push a mini-cart around the store while we put real groceries inside of it and it makes his whole day when Sawyer lets him swipe the credit card at checkout.
“We forgot the cookies!” Jake stalls, hand in mine just outside the store.
“We bought everything we need for the cookies, I promise.”
A frown mars his brow, the expression so similar to Sawyer’s it’s hard not to laugh. “We did not get cookies,” he tells me, shaking his head back and forth.
“Oh, no, we didn’t buy cookies, Jake. We’re going to make them. It’ll be fun.”
He looks at the bag that Sawyer is carrying doubtfully but allows me to piggyback him home.
After naps for everyone, Jake stands on a chair at the kitchen island and helps me. I measure the ingredients and he pours them in the bowl, concern covering his face with each ingredient.
“This goes in cookies?” he asks, dumping the flour. The eggs get me a worried look and a little sigh. “Are you sure?” He proceeds with the vanilla.
When the first tray of chocolate-chip cookies comes out of the oven his eyes light up and he yells to Sawyer, sitting on the couch, totally within normal speaking range. “We made cookies, Daddy!”
Sawyer strolls over and ruffles his hair, then snags a cookie. “Good job, bud.”
“Magic cookies, Daddy,” he says, eyes wide. “We didn’t cut them.”
Sawyer and I exchange a look over his head, equally confused, until I finally get it.
“He means the tubes of cookie dough you buy at the store,” I fill in as Jake takes off again, coming back with a piece of construction paper that he carefully folds in half before asking for a pencil. I hand him one as I clean up the cookie mess and pop another tray in the oven while Sawyer eyes my ass and answers Jake’s spelling questions.
A few minutes later Jake puts down his pencil and slides the paper over to me. I pick it up. He’s made me a card.
Thanks Everly
for the cookies!!!
next can I have
Mr. pants please!!!
I think the drawing on the front is a bookshelf. I open the card and find the following inside.
no!? yes!!!!!
I determine that he wants another Mr. Pants book. We read them together all the time. It’s a chapter book series about cats and he’s obsessed with them.
I pick up the pencil and circle yes before sliding the card back over. “Of course we can, Jake. Maybe we can go to the bookstore before dinner.”
“He has the entire series,” Sawyer says, leaning over and looking at the card. “The next book isn’t out until June. I keep explaining to him that we have all of them already.”
Shit. I just promised something I can’t deliver.
“Oh, Mr. Pants!” I exclaim, stalling while I think of a solution. “I thought you meant a real cat. My bad!”
The second the words are out of my mouth I realize what I’ve just said. So does Jake because he lights up like I’ve just promised him his own cat. Double shit.
“I’m getting a cat?” His eyes are wide and he drops the card on the counter. “I’m getting a kitty!” And with that he drops the card and takes off down the hall to his bedroom yelling about finding his shoes. He’s back a moment later with his tie in one hand, shoes in the other. “Ready!”
Sawyer just looks at me, shaking his head.
“Well…” I drum my fingers on the granite. “You didn’t really think me as a parent was going to be all smooth sailing, did you?”
An hour later we’re the proud parents of Shaggy, a two-year-old long-haired calico cat. She was still there, in that pet shop on Baltimore, waiting for us. I didn’t expect her to be there weeks later. I thought we’d pop in and see who they had available, but there she was, looking like she’d been waiting her whole life for Jake to show up. Jake’s lip quivered when he was able to pet her for the first time.