Page 35 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
“We’ve been in the child development game for the better part of the last twenty years,” the short man offered.
“Sorry, which one are you?” she asked, pivoting from the CityBeat crew to the singing baby vagabonds.
“I’m Stu,” the man replied.
“Then that would make you, Lenny,” Jordan said to the tall man, but instead of answering, the musical duo started singing.
“Good job! Good job! You did a good job! Good job! Good job! You used your brain!”the men belted as Stu broke out the tambourine, and Lenny strummed a catchy tune.
“Holy f—” she began before Jordan stifled the curse by cupping his hand over her mouth.
“Naughty words, naughty words.No, no, naughty words,” the men chanted, not missing a beat.
But Jordan raised his hands in surrender. “No more singing until someone explains what theheckBattle of the Births is.”
“Nice job with theh,e,double lsubstitution,” she said under her breath.
“As long as we keep this PG, I think we can stop them from busting out into song,” he whispered back.
“Deal,” she murmured.
“How much do you two know about caring for a baby?” Stu asked with a warm Disney-esque grin.
“We know that they need to eat,” she answered.
“And they need to have their diapers changed,” Jordan supplied.
She lifted her chin in a triumphant little movement. Maybe they knew more than she thought.
“Do you know how often newborns need to be fed?” Lenny pressed.
“And have you decided if you’re going to use cloth or disposable diapers?” Stu added.
“Cloth diapers? Non-pioneer parents choose cloth?” Jordan asked with a bewildered expression.
She was thinking the same thing.
“It’s quite a debate, and some are very passionate about the subject,” Lenny replied.
“What about nutrition? Do you think you’ll breastfeed or use formula or a combination?” Stu continued.
She turned to her husband, who gave her man-eyes for,fuck-if-I-know. No, not fuck,heck.Heck-if-I-knoweyes.
“We just found out we were expecting this morning,” Jordan sputtered, this reply quickly becoming their trademark response when asked about anything pregnancy-related.
“When are you due?” the stout Stu asked.
“June twenty-second,” she answered, unable to hold back a grin. This whole situation may be insane, but the thought of her alien blueberry pineapple peanut sent a dizzying wave of warmth through her body.
“See, they’re right on track,” Hector added, losing the carnival edge and sliding into tech mogul.
She frowned. “On track for what?”
“The other expectant contestants,” Stu answered.
“The name Battle of the Births has a fierce ring to it, but it’s not as cutthroat as it sounds. We’re working with a few other couples all due in June. It’s more parent education than an actual competition,” Lenny assured them.
She turned to Hector and Bobby. “You’re asking us to do another competition?”
