Page 66 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy
"Noted." I hand him the next wipe. "But babies don't care about precision. They care about speed and not getting cold."
He nods. Focuses. Finishes the diaper in record time.
Orry kicks happily. Gunther grins.
"I did it."
"You did." I scoop Orry up. "Gold star. Don't let it go to your head."
But I'm smiling too. Can't help it.
Lesson two:nap time cues.
"He rubs his eyes when he's tired," I explain. We're on the couch. Orry's playing with blocks on the rug. Gunther's taking notes in a pocket notebook.
"You're writing this down?"
"Memory aid." He doesn't look up. "What else?"
"He gets fussy. Clingy. Sometimes he'll just faceplant into the nearest soft surface."
"Faceplant?"
"Like this." I demonstrate with a throw pillow. Orry giggles. Copies me. Ends up with his face in the rug.
Gunther looks alarmed. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine. It's his thing." I flip Orry over. Tickle his belly. He shrieks. "Also he hates socks. And he'll fight you on the sleep sack. But once he's in it, he's out in five minutes."
Gunther scribbles faster. I watch him. Neat handwriting. Bullet points. A small sketch of a sleep sack in the margin.
"You're really committed to this."
"I don't do anything halfway."
"Clearly."
He glances up. "Is that. Bad?"
"No." I soften. "It's. Appreciated. But Gunther, you don't have to be perfect. Kids are messy. Parenting is messy. You're allowed to screw up."
"I'd rather not."
"You will anyway." I lean back. "Everyone does. The trick is showing up after you mess up and trying again."
He closes the notebook. Looks at Orry. "I can do that."
"Good."
Orry yawns. Rubs his eyes. Right on cue.
"There." I point. "See?"
Gunther nods. Reverent. Like I just revealed the secrets of the universe.
Lesson three:bottles and preferences.
"He likes them warm. Not hot. Warm." I'm heating a bottle in the warmer. Gunther hovers. "Test it on your wrist. If it burns, it's too hot. If it's cold, he'll refuse it."
