I bounced my infant son in my arms, but to no avail. He was screaming his head off. He was missing his mother and I didn’t have the necessary materials to calm him. He needed to be fed and my stubborn second-born child, Anthony Carlisle Emmett, would not take the bottle.
“Cut Daddy some slack, little man,” I groaned, shifting my six-month old son in my arms as I tried to encourage him to take the bottle. “Maman will be back soon. She can’t be at your beckoned call all the time.”
My wife, she needed and deserved some self-care. So, Emmett and I arranged for our wives for a day of complete relaxation. They were getting massages, hair color and haircut, and anything else they wanted. They deserved a day away from dirty nappies, crying babies and feeling like a human milk dispensary. She was a zombie most of the time, even with a full-time nanny. Anthony was not an easy baby. He had colic and would only calm down for Bella or Charlotte. Rarely did he sleep through the night and when he did, we wouldn’t get any sleep for nearly three days after that.
Don’t get me wrong … I adore my son, more than words can describe. He was just so different compared to Charlotte, who was a dream baby.
“Try giving him a bath, Daddy,” Charlotte said, blinking up at me. “That’s not his hungry cry. That’s his dirty diaper cry.”
“The fact that you know his different cries says something,” I deadpanned.
“That’s because I wanted to help you and Maman,” Charlotte giggled. “Once you get him clean, he’ll take the bottle.”
“Do you want to help me, ma petite?” I asked. She nodded eagerly and we walked into the nursery, and into the bathroom. Charlotte gathered the shower gel and shampoo, along with a fresh outfit for Anthony. I removed his clothes and diaper, placing him in his bathtub. As soon as the warm water surrounded him, his screams stopped and he watched me with wide, bright eyes. “Better, mon fils?”
“Maman rubs his belly and it settles him,” Charlotte said, her fingers running through his light brown hair.
“You’re going to be a good maman,” I breathed, winking at my daughter.
“Not for a long time,” Charlotte snickered. “Didn’t you say I’m not allowed to get married until I’m fifty?”
“I would like to be a grandfather at some point,” I teased. “Perhaps we can adjust that age to thirty?”
“Whatever, Dad. I want to go to university and learn all I can before I get married,” Charlotte said. “That way, when I ascend to the throne, I’ll be a fair and just ruler, like you.”
“Charlotte, you have given me the greatest compliment,” I murmured, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “If you rule like you care for your little brother, you will be a better leader than me.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” Charlotte breathed.
No comments:
Post a Comment