Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Like we’ll play along and pretend to be campin-.
“Actually, I’d love a big, hot wiener right now,” Bridget chimes in with her sultry voice, poking her tongue out at me.
“Why don’t we all have some hot dogs,” she suddenly asks, raising both her brows and trying hard not to laugh at me.
My midnight snuggle turns into something way better than pretend camping too.
Trying to keep Amy quiet is impossible, and with Mommy and Daddy up making hot dogs at two a.m., it isn’t long before the rest of the kids, Zeke and Alex join us in the kitchen.
The twins are up next, and if I’m on wiener duty, I know Bridget’s got my back, and she gets them up for their feed.
In our kitchen in the middle of the night, here we all are roasting hot dogs.
The storm thunders above us, and monkey Zeke even flicks the lights off, making me think the power’s gone until he switches them on and off again a dozen times.
Amy shrieks with mock terror as he attacks her with fake growls. The pair of them take off down the hall, screaming like maniacs.
The sound of a heavy scratching gets my attention, though.
Oh, boys…how could I forget?
“Alex? Let the boys in, will ya? They’ll be soaked,” I call to my second eldest son.
Our two golden retrievers, Ollie and Carter, come bounding in, skidding on the floor with their wet feet. But smiling like simpletons no matter what the weather’s doing.
I almost feel like checking the driveway to see if I’ve missed anyone.
But we’re all here, wide awake at a crazy hour, doing what we want, and the only cries are hungry babies or lunatic kids having the time of their lives.
The lives I watch over every day now. The lives that I’m part of, every second of every day.
This is my job now. And it’s the best job in the world.
“Honey? Your buns are on fire,” Bridget calls over, shifting her eyes to the grill which has started to smoke.
A few yellow flames licking at the edges of our brioche rolls.
Dammit!
“Dad…,” Alex groans, rolling his eyes, and I can see he wants to help, so I motion him over. Holding him up as he douses each burnt and smoking roll in the sink.
“We’ve got plenty more,” I assure him, suggesting he help his old man with the hot dogs too.
“Sure.” Alex smiles, hooking his hand into mine as he looks up at me.
“Thanks, dad…thanks for letting us stay up and goof around. You’re the best.”
I drop to my knee, hugging my son, kissing his head as I choke back a tear.
Kids! I don’t know where they get this stuff but I love it.
“I love you, Alex,” I tell him, growling and hugging him tight again.
“I love you, Dad…and you, Mom!” he shouts out, making my ears ring from being so close.
“We love you, Dad, we love you, Mommy!” the other two call out in a sing-song voice, breaking into laughter before running back upstairs, doing god knows what.
But it’s the three words they all grew up hearing, and we say it all the time because it’s true.
Because we mean it, and we mean it because we feel it.
It was something I never had growing up, and it was Bridget who showed me how to give words to my feelings. And three words isn’t nearly enough. But they mean so much.
Especially from the kids.
Especially from my Bridget. And yeah, I guess even from her parents every now and then.
They adore their grandkids, and they’re nowhere near as uptight as they used to be.
As I set Alex up at his hot dog station, standing on a chair at the counter, I stand over him and watch him set up to work. Doing what he wants, which is helping.
Doing it without being asked to because he wants to help.
Amy likes to imagine things, and Zeke just likes to play and be a bit of a clown.
The twins? Well. We’ve got a while to go yet before we know what their thing is.
But their Mom and Dad couldn’t be prouder, all of ‘em.
“Whatcha thinking?” Bridget asks, sidling up next to me as I reach for a twin baby out of habit, taking a step back as Alex sets the dogs on the grill to roast.
“I was just thinking how we should go camping more often…right here in the house,” I tell her, crossing my eyes and sounding like little Amy.
Bridget gasps with mock horror until she realizes I’m not kidding.
“We could even pitch a tent…right here in the kitchen, no. The bathroom, we could turn the whole house into a campground,” I tease her, but I’ve given big ears Amy and Zeke a great idea without meaning to.
“Yeah!” They shout out in tandem, and it’s not long before Alex is calling out too, letting everyone know where he’s gonna pitch his tent.