"Bella, how are you decorating the nursery for Owen?" asked a still gimpy Alex. "Do you need help?"
"Like you can do anything," I teased as I finished feeding Kyra. Alex scowled at me and adjusted his injured leg on the couch. "Was that good my principessa?"
"Mo!" she giggled. "Pease."
"You are such a little piglet," I said as I scooped her up. I placed her in Alex's lap and cleaned up her lunch, strained squash. It's the color of baby poop. How can that be appetizing? "And to answer your question, Alex, no we haven't made any decisions for Owen's nursery other than not paint the walls blue. Edward and I want Owen to have a boy's room without shoving blue down the child's throat." I laid my hand on my belly and Owen kicked soundly. "Yes, no blue, baby boy."
"Did he kick?" Matthew asked from his spot near the stove. He was making some lunch for us while I fed Kyra and entertained a very crabby and bored Alex.
"Yep," I replied. I grabbed Matthew's hand and placed it on my belly. He got a swift kick to the heel of his hand. Matthew pulled his hand away, blowing a low whistle. "Soccer, I tell you. He'll be playing soccer."
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