Page 28 of Milo
Too soon the water gets cold, but I’m so relaxed it doesn’t matter. My commission is calling to me, so as soon as I’m dressed in something comfy I head to my spare room where I have all my art supplies set up. I have a desk and a plush computer chair where I can cross my legs. There’s also a nice big bean bag and rocking recliner. Anything so I can be comfortable while I’m doing my art. I don’t have much left to do with this piece. Just a bit more coloring and it’s done, so that’s today’s plan before the big night.
I play gentle music to get myself in the right mood. The piece is soft and pretty, so it needs slow music instead of the fast beats I prefer to keep myself on task. I hum along with the music. I get lost in my art, basically meditating as I go. I hadn’t gone this deep for a while. It’s a miracle what relaxing and letting go can do for the mind.
I finish the piece and send it off to the publishing house in time for my alarm to go off. The one that says I have to get ready. I put everything away in their proper places, then strip and find my footie pajamas. They still smell so good from when I washed them a few days ago. I smash my face to them and breathe them in. They’re soft flannel, which feels amazing against my skin, especially when it’s cold. The only thing I don’t like is wearing shoes with them. I pull the feetie part off my feet and wrap them up to put my socks on, then shoes. It looks awkward with the material bunched up, but it’s not going to be for long.
The knock at my door comes exactly when it’s supposed to and I rush to open it.
“Daddy Clay.” I grin at him. “Am I cute?” I turn awkwardly in the shoes, but I haven’t put my coat on yet so I can show him the polar bears.
“Adorable.” He rubs his thumb over my cheek. “Just adorable, sweet Milo.”
My cheeks heat. I like it when he calls me sweet. It makes my tummy all fluttery. I take his hand and he helps me lock up before we head to his truck. He helps me into his truck and buckles me in. I like this, too. He points out all the pretty Christmas lights as he drives and I giggle at each one.
“So pretty, Daddy. I like the lights.”
“I do too, sweetheart. They’re so pretty.”
My tummy flutters with nerves when he parks at the shop. Rory is running the Santa mixer night. Ben, Logan, and Jacob were all banned from coming since I asked to participate. I’m notembarrassed, but I don’t think I’d be as comfortable had any of them decided they needed to be at the shop. Rory and I have had a few playdates, so I’m comfortable with him seeing me this way. In all my Little glory.
Daddy helps me from the truck, and I take his hand to guide me inside. The set up is the same as it was for the kids yesterday, but seeing it as Little Milo is a huge difference. My eyes dart from the snowflakes hanging from the ceiling to the ornaments and lights on the bookcases. We really did good decorating the place. The scent of hot chocolate fills the air and I breathe it in. The line isn’t too long, but I’m glad we have a few other Littles and Middles join.
Daddy Clay spoils me with a small cup of hot chocolate and I squeal when he hands it to me. I’m careful though, and don’t spill any on my cute polar bears. He wipes my mouth when I’m done. Daddy’s really good at this Daddy thing. Jealousy tries to bubble up, thinking about any other Little he got to spoil, but I tamp it down. He’s mine. At least for now.
“My name is Missy, what’s yours?” the Little in front of me turns to greet me.
“Milo,” I say.
“Missy and Milo! We should be friends!”
“Inside voice, Missy.”
“I’ll be good, Mommy.” Missy grins back at me. “Sometimes I don’t know how loud I am and Mommy has to tell me to be quiet. What are you asking Santa for this year? I’m asking for—Wait! Is it like wishes? If I tell you, will Santa not bring me what I ask for?”
My eyes go wide. “I dunno.” I tug on Daddy’s sleeve. “Is that how Santa works?”
“I don’t think so?” He tips his head. “No. I think it’s okay to share.”
“Okay, good!” Missy says. She shuffles closer to me. “I’m asking for a pony.”
My mouth drops open. “A for real one?”
“Yeah! Every Little girl needs her own pony.”
Missy’s Mommy’s lips tip to a smile and she’s probably trying to hold back a chuckle like Daddy’s failing at.
I tug his sleeve again. “Do good Little boys get ponies?”
“They’re a lot of responsibility.”
“That’s not a no, Daddy.”
“Do you want a pony?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Not really. I want more dinosaurs. Lots and lots of dinosaurs!” I lift my hands. “Rwar!”
Missy giggles, and it’s her turn for Santa. She crawls into his lap and sidles close. She whispers so softly I can’t hear what she’s asking.
“Alrighty, Milo, your turn.” Daddy pats my bottom softly and I tentatively walk up to Santa. He’s a big guy with what appears to be a real white beard to go with his white hair. The man chuckles and holds out his arms.
