Page 4 of Time for Change

I smile, knowing he’s referring to blueberries. It’s one of the only fruits he won’t eat. “Good thing Miss Libby makes them with blueberries for Ethan and without for you, huh?”

“And Bianca. She doesn’t like them either, but the twins do!” he exclaims, referring to the two-year-old twins that also go to Libby’s in-home daycare. “Their faces turn purple when they eat blueys,” he adds with a chuckle.

“I can’t find my book bag.”

I turn toward the stairs to find my nine-going-on-fifteen-year-old coming down the stairs. “It’s by the door where we put it last night,” I tell her, sliding Christian’s coat onto his arms.

She huffs out a loud breath. “I forgot. Is my coat there too?”

“It’s in the closet, where it’s supposed to be.” If it were up to my kids, coats would be strewn all over the house, right along with shoes.

Gianna slips her boots and coat on before retrieving her book bag. Just as I open the front door, the big yellow bus pulls up and honks. “Bye, Dad!”

“Wait, where’s my sugar?” I ask, leaning down and offering my cheek.

She rolls her eyes and huffs, but there’s no missing the smile on her lips. “You’re scratchy,” she informs me, offering her own cheek.

I make a loud smacking noise as I kiss her cheek. “Love you, Gi. Have a great day. I’ll pick you up from Miss Libby’s after I get off work.”

“I know. Love you too, Dad,” she tells me as she pushes open the door and runs out to the bus. Our neighbor, Cooper, meets her at the end of our driveway and waits until she climbs on first before getting on the bus himself. Coop’s a year older than Gianna and is always inviting her over to play in his backyard.

Turning my attention back to the four-year-old standing beside me, I say, “Ready, little man?”

“Let’s shake and bake!” he proclaims, grabbing his own book bag off the hook.

Chuckling, I retrieve my travel coffee mug and keys and head for my truck. Christian jumps into his booster seat and watches intently as I secure the belt across his lap. I sip my coffee as I drive to Miss Libby’s house. She lives in a cozy ranch-style house a block away from Mya, my ex-wife, and she’s watched both kids since they were born. Libby is a fifty-something-year-old woman and is like a second mom to the kids. She watchesChristian five days a week, excluding when he’s at preschool, and Gianna after she gets out of school, during summer break, and when there’s no school.

“Bianca’s mom is going to take you to preschool today and pick you up when you’re done,” I tell Christian as I pull into Miss Libby’s driveway and park.

“I know,” he replies, reaching for his seat belt when the truck is parked.

“And then I’ll be by to get you and Gi after I get off work.”

“Can we have pizza for dinner?” he asks as I open the passenger door.

The moment I confirm with a quick, “Sure,” he hops out and makes a mad dash for Libby’s front door.

We go through our normal Monday morning routine, which includes greeting Miss Libby before hanging his coat and book bag on his hook and slipping his shoes in his bin. “I’ll see you later,” I say, taking a knee and waiting for the tackle-hug.

Christian doesn’t disappoint. He leaps against my chest and giggles as I give his side a little tickle. “Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, little man.” When he pulls back, I hold out my fist for him to tap.

“Shake and bake, baby,” he hollers before turning and taking off to the playroom at the back of the house.

“Mya was super impressed with Caden letting him watchTalladega Nights,” Libby says with a laugh.

“Yeah, not one of his best moves,” I reply, running my hand through my hair. “But in Caden’s defense, he thought—”

“He was sleeping, yeah, we know.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Good thing he’s cute, huh?”

I flash her a quick grin. “Just like his daddy.”

Libby rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you two are two peas in a pod. We’ll see you after work.”

“I’ll be here,” I tell her, reaching for the doorknob. “Thanks, Libby.”

“You’re welcome, Jack. See you later,” she replies, closing the door behind me.

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