on me, so I just didn't have it in me to fight with him. Then when he had stepped in to halt Tyler's tantrum when getting out of the tub, I'd admit, I might have been a little grateful. I was so used to parenting on my own; it was strange to have backup. I knew if I wasn't careful, I could end up getting used to it.
Chapter 7 - Pretend
For once, I wasn't woken by Tyler, but by the smell of breakfast. I made my way downstairs to the kitchen and found Trent holding Tyler in his arms. Tyler was dressed to go fishing, wearing his little lifejacket and helping Trent make toast. Trent had him put the bread in and push the button down. But when they popped up, Trent would take them out, warning Tyler they were hot and showed him his red fingertips, and even went so far as to kiss his own fingers, like he had hurt them. Tyler looked concerned, and I wondered if I should have been upset that Trent was butting in and teaching my kid something, but when I reached for the bread, Tyler shouted, "Momma, HOT!"
"Those ones on top are probably still hot. Do you want to grab the jam?"
I grabbed the jam from the fridge and then watched in horror, as Tyler grabbed the butter knife, ready to jam up his bread. We would end up scrubbing the kitchen all day if he had his way.
"Give it to mommy."
"Mine," he held the butter knife against his chest, ready to fight for his chance to spread jam.
Trent put him in his booster at the table and then pulled out another butter knife. He started spreading the jam without saying a word. Tyler looked over at Trent confused, unsure how he'd ended up with a butter knife, but no jam on it.
"Have a seat," he said, as he put together a couple of plates. He cut a toasted jam sandwich into four pieces and brought it over to Tyler. He sat next to him. "Are you gonna cut it smaller?" he asked him. He held his knife over the pieces, showing Tyler how to cut them smaller. "Like this, buddy." Tyler got the idea, and he went to town, chopping the crap out of his toast. At least it was a minimal mess. Once Tyler was done chopping, he got to eating and finished off his whole sandwich.
I heard the stomping of feet coming from the back of the house. "Is Tyler, the fisherman, ready to go in the boat?" my father called.
Tyler jumped up, standing in his booster, and Trent was able to move much faster than I was to steady him. "Yeah, I’d say he's ready," Trent laughed it off and helped Tyler down. Roger pulled a cooler out of the fridge and waved to us. "We'll be back for dinner, or hopefully, with dinner."
Once the back door shut, I turned to Trent. "So, where did our mothers get off to?"
"I have no idea, but it couldn't have been good. My mom usually cooks big breakfasts, but she just 'didn't have the time' to do it this morning. They're definitely up to something."
I rode in Trent's car to the clinic, which was actually attached to a little hospital. That explained how they could call him in so fast from his clinic. He held the door for me and led me to a back room. He flipped on a machine, but didn't bother with the lights. "So, you know the drill, right?"
I nodded yes, scooting up on the bed and tucked my pants under my belly and pulled my shirt up over it as well.
The look on his face was confusing. He looked in awe and in pain at the same time. He gave me a gentle smile, as he readied the machine. "Alright, this'll be a little cold."
"It usually is."
"Have you had several ultrasounds?" He sounded worried.
"No, but Dr. Harding uses some gel when he checks for the heartbeat."
"Dr. Mathias Harding?" Trent sounded worried. I nodded yes, wondering how he knew my doctor. "Is he in a co-op of doctors now? Do you see several other doctors as well?"
"No, just him."
Trent looked nervous, like he was trying to debate between telling me something and keeping his mouth shut.
"Is everything alright?" I was beginning to worry. It wasn't a good sign, when one doctor wasn't happy about you seeing another.
He looked
Chapter 7 - Pretend
For once, I wasn't woken by Tyler, but by the smell of breakfast. I made my way downstairs to the kitchen and found Trent holding Tyler in his arms. Tyler was dressed to go fishing, wearing his little lifejacket and helping Trent make toast. Trent had him put the bread in and push the button down. But when they popped up, Trent would take them out, warning Tyler they were hot and showed him his red fingertips, and even went so far as to kiss his own fingers, like he had hurt them. Tyler looked concerned, and I wondered if I should have been upset that Trent was butting in and teaching my kid something, but when I reached for the bread, Tyler shouted, "Momma, HOT!"
"Those ones on top are probably still hot. Do you want to grab the jam?"
I grabbed the jam from the fridge and then watched in horror, as Tyler grabbed the butter knife, ready to jam up his bread. We would end up scrubbing the kitchen all day if he had his way.
"Give it to mommy."
"Mine," he held the butter knife against his chest, ready to fight for his chance to spread jam.
Trent put him in his booster at the table and then pulled out another butter knife. He started spreading the jam without saying a word. Tyler looked over at Trent confused, unsure how he'd ended up with a butter knife, but no jam on it.
"Have a seat," he said, as he put together a couple of plates. He cut a toasted jam sandwich into four pieces and brought it over to Tyler. He sat next to him. "Are you gonna cut it smaller?" he asked him. He held his knife over the pieces, showing Tyler how to cut them smaller. "Like this, buddy." Tyler got the idea, and he went to town, chopping the crap out of his toast. At least it was a minimal mess. Once Tyler was done chopping, he got to eating and finished off his whole sandwich.
I heard the stomping of feet coming from the back of the house. "Is Tyler, the fisherman, ready to go in the boat?" my father called.
Tyler jumped up, standing in his booster, and Trent was able to move much faster than I was to steady him. "Yeah, I’d say he's ready," Trent laughed it off and helped Tyler down. Roger pulled a cooler out of the fridge and waved to us. "We'll be back for dinner, or hopefully, with dinner."
Once the back door shut, I turned to Trent. "So, where did our mothers get off to?"
"I have no idea, but it couldn't have been good. My mom usually cooks big breakfasts, but she just 'didn't have the time' to do it this morning. They're definitely up to something."
I rode in Trent's car to the clinic, which was actually attached to a little hospital. That explained how they could call him in so fast from his clinic. He held the door for me and led me to a back room. He flipped on a machine, but didn't bother with the lights. "So, you know the drill, right?"
I nodded yes, scooting up on the bed and tucked my pants under my belly and pulled my shirt up over it as well.
The look on his face was confusing. He looked in awe and in pain at the same time. He gave me a gentle smile, as he readied the machine. "Alright, this'll be a little cold."
"It usually is."
"Have you had several ultrasounds?" He sounded worried.
"No, but Dr. Harding uses some gel when he checks for the heartbeat."
"Dr. Mathias Harding?" Trent sounded worried. I nodded yes, wondering how he knew my doctor. "Is he in a co-op of doctors now? Do you see several other doctors as well?"
"No, just him."
Trent looked nervous, like he was trying to debate between telling me something and keeping his mouth shut.
"Is everything alright?" I was beginning to worry. It wasn't a good sign, when one doctor wasn't happy about you seeing another.
He looked
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