Page 29 of Pucked Up Plans
With Lennon in my arms, I grab the bag of food from the front seat, and stride over to Tate and Aubrey, following them up the steps.
An erratic heartbeat drums in my chest, the rhythm vibrating through all parts of me. I trudge on, Tate and Aubrey leading the way inside. I toe out of my sneakers and lower Lennon to the floor, instructing her to do the same. Either lost in a trance of her excitement or because she’s too tired, she sits there unmoving.
With a chuckle, I slip them off her feet as she yawns again.
“You’re not going to last, Squirt.” I send up a silent prayer she doesn’t get too overtired before we leave. I’m not in the mood for a tantrum, especially in front of Tate and Aubrey.
“Shall we eat first?”
“We made muffins,” Aubrey exclaims excitedly in response. She disappears down the hall, water running in the distance shortly thereafter.
“Lennon, why don’t you go with Aubrey and wash your hands? You remember where the bathroom is?” Zoned out, she doesn’t move nor respond. I snap my fingers in front of her face, bringing her out. “Time to wash your hands.”
“I cleaned them after recess. See?” She holds them out, flipping them so I can see both sides.
Not in the mood for a fight, I express to Tate, “You got a wipe we could have?”
“Yeah, sure.” She departs the entryway, returning with a few wipes in her hand, Aubrey trailing behind. She hands them to me, then picks up the bag of food. “I’ll get lunch sorted.”
A quick wipe to Lennon’s hands—at least she doesn’t protest—I lift her into my arms, carrying her into the kitchen. Depositing her in the same chair she sat in last time, I tip her chin up.
“You eat whatever Tate puts on your plate or no treats. And I don’t want to hear any complaints.”
“K.”
That was too easy. Maybe I should feed her when she’s this excited or tired all the time.
Lunch is quiet, the only sounds of chewing and Lennon’s hums filling the kitchen. Tate brought in a stool from somewhere but insisted I use the chair. I thought about arguing with her, but seems I’m not in the mood for a battle with anyone today.
Aubrey finishes her grilled cheese in the time it takes Lennon to eat half of hers.
“Done. We can have treats now?” Lennon pushes her plate toward the center of the table.
“Mommy, can I get the muffins?”
“Sure.”
Aubrey climbs down and gingerly walks over to a low drawer. From the angle I sit, I can’t see what’s in it, but she brings out two containers, handing them to Tate before taking a seat at the table again.
This kid has better table manners than me.
“We have blueberry and chocolate chip,” Tate explains, offering Lennon a choice of muffin first. Turning her nose up at the blueberry ones, Lennon reaches for a chocolate chip.
Next, Tate puts a blueberry on Aubrey’s plate, Aubrey’s tongue darting out of her mouth as she views the exchange.
“Walsh? Can I offer you a muffin?”
I grab a blueberry, knowing full well Lennon won’t finish hers, and I’ll sample the leftovers.
Taking a bite, the muffin isn’t as sweet as I expected, yet it’s incredibly delicious. I devour half in a few bites, and after swallowing, I compliment Tate. “These are delicious.”
Aubrey pipes in. “Thanks. I help Mommy with the batter.” When she smiles at me, crumbs fall off her lips.
“You did a great job. Do you bake with Mommy a lot?”
“Oh, yeah. All the time.” Her head bobs up and down, her brown curls bouncing with the movement.
Tate repeats the question to Lennon.
