Does She Cook?

A few nights ago I had to work concessions at a high school basketball game. 99% of the time, if/where I go, the kids (ALL) go, or at the very least, the littles go. But I can't imagine trying to work a concession stand with a 4 year old running around or a 6 month old on my hip would work the best.

Brad, (not without complaint and grumbling) agreed to keep Reese and Kodi. To this point in Kodi's life he's never had her by himself for more than an hour here and there. But this was like a 4 hour span. As they get older, he gets more comfortable with taking care of them and keeping them alive, in general.

He doesn't know how to work the car seat, he doesn't make bottles, I can count on (less than) 2 hands the number of diapers he's changed in his life, he's not soothing.

No "Shhh Shhh Shhh, it's okay, Daddy's here" while he gently bounces and rocks her.

Just a very perfunctory, "Why are you crying?" like he's speaking and reasoning with a fully grown rational adult.

I assumed I would have 27 phone calls and 91 texts.

One call. One text.

So I was a little nervous as to what I would find when I got home.

The house itself was a disaster. Which, no biggie. We live in a constant state of mini (to varying size) disasters. We transition from one to another fairly routinely.

Reese met me at the door (bathed and in jammies) when I came in.

"Hi, Mom!"

"Hi, Ree! Where's Kodi?"

"She's in the basement but Shhhh. She's sleeping."

Is she really sleeping or is she dead?

I walked down the basement steps.

Snuggled up. Fast asleep (although she a little bit looks dead). In a CLEAN diaper and jammies.

I'm not sure Reese didn't do it.

At this point I was in a little bit of a state of shock.

They had apparently gone to the mexican restaurant and got take out (so he even left the house and worked car seats)!) as there was taco meat, queso, chips, and rice all over the kitchen table and floor.

But they fed themselves, so, win.

All in all, a total success.

This morning I was talking to Candi (my daycare lady) about it and she said, "Hmmm, does Brad have a girlfriend? I love her already."

Me too!

Does she cook!?

Seriously, though, even in his old age, coming into his own, picking up new skills, honing his Dad craft.

He must want another.

Happy Birthday, Brad D. I love to love you (and maybe a little bit torture you).