Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“That’s fair,” she agreed as the baby went from as calm as could be to screaming his head off in a blink.
Siana - 11 years
We’d settled on four.
Which still somehow felt perfectly reasonable, even if it required us to build on a second level, so all the kids had their own rooms.
It was one of Alaric’s, surprisingly few, terms when it came to creating a family. As a kid who never got to have any privacy growing up, he wanted his kids to have their own rooms, their own doors to close to get away from everything when they needed to.
As an only child who also really appreciated having private space and alone time, I’d been whole-heartedly in agreement on that one.
“Moooom,” a familiar refrain called from out back as I just tried to squeeze in a couple edits on some photographs that were due in only two days.
“Yeah?” I called back, hoping it was just a request for something specific for dinner, or something that wouldn’t require my presence. Because, by my clock, I had all of ten minutes left before our one-year-old woke up from his nap, grumbly and ravenous for some food since he’d been too stubborn to eat much for breakfast.
“Look what we made,” he called.
Our eldest.
Who took after neither Alaric or me somehow. If anything, he reminded me a lot of Saskia, if anyone. Daring, brave, extroverted, and sure of himself.
“I’m coming,” I called, closing my laptop lid, telling myself that I would just have Alaric bring the big kids to the clubhouse to swim, so I could get some work done later.
I moved out the back door, my glasses fogging immediately, thanks to the humidity, and I had to wait for them to clear before I could see what they were up to.
“We built them a playground,” our second child declared. He reminded me a lot of his father. Kind, easy-going, a little unsure of himself at times, but willing to keep trying, regardless.
“Built who… oh,” I said, seeing the massive thing they’d put together with twigs, leaves, sand, and dirt.
For the backyard lizards.
From the looks of things, they’d caught one of the poor things and set him on the ‘playground.’
“Very nice, guys,” I said, squinting at the lizard to make sure it was okay. Sure enough, it seemed to shake off its shock, and darted across the ‘playground’ before rushing over the fence and into the neighbors yard. Where kids wouldn’t grab it and force it to play with them. “Love the imagination,” I declared as I looked at the bridge they’d created between a cave and what looked like a makeshift slide.
“When is Dad coming home?” the oldest boy asked. “We want to show him before it rains.”
“He should be here any—“ I started, only to feel a body move in behind me.
“Who, me?” he asked, jiggling our three-year-old, and only daughter, on his hip.
“Your kids built a lizard playground,” I told him.
“Yeah? Let me get a look at that,” he said, heading across the yard to inspect the structure, praising things, and giving advice to make other parts sturdier.
I never could have anticipated the warm feeling I would get at seeing Alaric with his little carbon copies—blond hair, green eyes, and very tall for their ages. Or how I could just sit and watch him talk to them, interact with them, show them how to build with blocks or destroy with foam bullets.
He’d been my steadfast partner, sitting up with me when the babies would feed, helping me bop and pace when they were colicky, worrying and nursing them through fevers and belly aches.
Then, as they got older, teaching them, listening to them, building them up, and teaching them to set healthy boundaries.
And, of course, always there to swoop in when I was overwhelmed. Or to pull me aside and assure me that I was doing everything right when my anxiety still occasionally got the better of me.
“For the record, we’re not letting them try to keep wild lizards, right?” he asked, coming back to me.
“God, no,” I said, grimacing.
Sure, Frida was absolutely ancient these days, spending most of her time on her bed, snoozing away. But she could still muster some fury for the occasional lizard that crossed her path. We weren’t going to invite that kind of stress inside her home.
“Good,” he said as I set down our daughter, both of us turning to watch her rush over toward her brothers, always wanting to be a part of what they were up to. And, to their credit, they were surprisingly patient with her, even though all she usually managed to do was destroy the things they so carefully created.
I couldn’t even blame them when they used their bodies to create a human wall to keep her from touching their playground.