“Unca.”
“Say an.”
“An.”
“Say Drew.”
“Doo.”
“Now, say Uncle Andrew.”
“UNCADOO!”
If nothing else, the exercise in futility amuses my wife, which makes my humiliation worth it. Sort of. With a long sigh, I look at my niece and say, “Fine. Uncadoo it is.”
“Dow.”
I carefully set her down. She toddles to the front door and points. “Mama?”
“Mama will be back tonight.”
“Daddy?”
“Daddy will be back tonight, too. We're here to play with you,” I explain, crouching down to her height.
“I'll get a snack,” Amanda whispers, wiping her eyes. “Shannon said she'll do anything for a yogurt treat.”
“Yogurt treat?”
“I'll show you.”
Ellie walks up to me, eyes shining, the tears drying on her cheeks. Long, thick eyelashes frame eyes just like my brother's. She has Declan's coloring and eye shape, but the contours of her face are like Shannon’s. It's so weird to see Dec's features superimposed on a toddler.
What'll it be like to see me in my own boys?
“OHGURT!” Ellie screams, right in my ear, like a laser blaster to the trigeminal nerve. The kid can be harnessed and weaponized if this whole toddlerhood thing doesn't work out. Damn.
Ellie walks over to the high chair and lifts her arms to Amanda. “Uppie, Manna!”
Amanda bends to pick her up. I rush over. “I've got her.”
Amanda frowns. “I can pick her up.”
“You shouldn't. Not in your condition.”
“I'm not that out of shape!”
“I don't mean your muscles. I mean the babies.”
“I can pick up a twenty-pound toddler, Andrew. Our bodies are designed for pregnancy and for managing toddlers at the same time, you know. It's basic evolution.”
“You sound like Pam.”
She pauses. “I think I did hear that from Mom.”
“OHGURT!” Ellie repeats as we click her into place. I grab the foil pouch from the counter.
“Yogurt dots?”
“Freeze-dried yogurt.” She takes the package from me, opens it, and sprinkles some on the tray. Ellie acts like wild geese at a pond after someone throws stale bread their way.
“Here. Try one,” Amanda offers, handing me the package.
“Sounds gross.”
“Try it.”
I pop a piece of blueberry yogurt in my mouth.
And instantly realize how wrong I am.
“Gimme more,” I mutter around the chewing. “These are fantastic! We have to get some.” I look at the label.
YoYo Baby Belly Snax.
I look at the ingredients. Pure yogurt, natural sugars, no colorings, no preservatives.
“Even Vince would approve of these,” I say to Amanda, who gives me a smug grin.
“MO!” Ellie shouts. I half expect her to toss a beer stein to the ground and call for her hammer next. If they remake “Thor” in twenty-five years, they can cast my niece.
“We’ll get some next time we're at the store,” I tell Amanda before popping another one on my tongue.
“You're going to the gym carrying a pouch of baby snacks? I'll pay good money to watch that unfold.”
I grab another handful from the pouch and toss the whole thing in my mouth. “Mmmm.”
Ellie watches me, mouth open, a yogurt drop attached to her lower lip.
“Careful,” Amanda says, beginning to search the cabinets. “Let's hope that's not the last pouch. These are the only thing that calms her down.”
I sprinkle ten more on Ellie's tray.
She turns into a shark with fresh lamb thrown in the water.
“I feel you, kid,” I mutter as I eye the pouch, then look at Amanda on her search, hoping for more.
“Pay dirt!” Amanda calls back. “Four more pouches.”
Awesome. One for Ellie and three for me to devour after she’s asleep. Shannon and Declan can pay us in yogurt dots.
Amanda eyes me eating more. “I can't believe you're eating baby food.”
“What? It's good.”
“I know. It's just...” Her laughter warms me. Full and strong, happy and hopeful.
I shrug, then tip the end of the foil pouch to my mouth, tapping the dust in.
“Wata,” Ellie says, turning to look at the water filter on the fridge.
Amanda finds a sippy cup, fills it with water, and plunks it on the tray. Ellie begins gulping, eyes on me the entire time.
I look at the clock. It's 5:49 p.m.
Dec and Shannon are home at midnight.
We've totally got this.
Bzzzz
Amanda's phone. She picks it up and reads. “Our food's coming.”
“Food?”
“I ordered takeout.”
My stomach growls. “Excellent. So, what do we do with her?”
“Do?”
“We have nearly six hours.”
“She goes to bed at seven, Andrew. We eat dinner, then she gets a bath, then we read to her and sing a lullaby and put her to bed.”
“That's it? That's the whole night?”
Amanda picks up a piece of paper with Shannon's handwriting on it. “Yes? That's what this says. Shannon fed Ellie at five.”
“Well, that's boring.”
“Boring? Of course it is. We're watching a toddler. It's not like we're taking her to a Bruins game or going on a harbor cruise.”
“We could, though.”
“That's not the plan.”
Ding!
The apartment buzzer sounds. Amanda waddles to the door, talks to someone on the intercom, and pushes a button.
“Food's here.”
“What did you order?”
“Cheeto smoothies.” She smirks, eyes big and sparkling with mirth.
“I hope you made sure they're blended extra fine.”
“You're never going to let me off the hook for that, are you?”
“Do you have any idea how much work it took to make that smoothie?”
“Do you have any idea how much pain my bladder was in, Andrew?”
Ellie's watching us. “MOOVIE!” she squeals.
Amanda opens a cupboard, finds a glass, and pours herself some water. “I got Thai. Pad Thai and spring rolls.”
“Are they orange enough?”
“Ha ha.”
“Ha ha.” Ellie's a perfect mimic for Amanda's sarcastic tone.
We all burst out laughing, Ellie clapping for added amusement.
“Let's eat at the dining table,” I say, pulling Ellie's high chair up to the place she clearly sits at, as there's no chair in that spot. Just then, the door buzzes and Amanda handles the food delivery, the scent of peanuts and fish sauce soon filling the air.
Plates come out, containers get spread on the table, and within a few minutes, we're feasting.
Bzzz
Amanda groans as my phone goes off. “I thought you were on Do Not Disturb.”
“I run a corporation, Amanda. I can't do it forever.”
“But this isn't forever. It's just until midnight.”