at eight months was long enough to wash. Wolf hated it so much that hair washing had become a two-man job. Tonight, Jude was one man short.
“Okay, buddy. Time to wash your hair.” Jude was dreading it.
“Da!” Wolf shouted. He shot Jude a dirty look.
Christ, even the baby knew Cope needed to be here to help out. “You don’t trust me to do this and not get soap in your eyes, huh?” Jude blew a wet raspberry against Wolf’s shoulder. “I’ll show you.”
Wolf wore a dubious look. His bottom lipped quivered, but he didn’t cry. Jude knew that would come later.
He soaped up the baby’s hair turning it into a pile of spikes like Sonic the Hedgehog. Jude laughed, but Wolf didn’t. Sheesh. It was a good thing Jude had a plan. “Okay, little man, here’s what we’re going to do. I’ve got a dry washcloth that I’m going to put over your face. I’ll tip you backward, rinse, and then you can play. Deal?”
The baby blew a raspberry back and started “washing” his own hair, getting his hands all soapy.
“Let’s rinse your little paw-paws.” The last thing Jude needed was Wolf touching his eyes with soapy hands. “Get ready, here comes the cloth.” Jude set it over his face, tipped the baby back with one hand and poured his cup of water over his head with the other. Before Wolf knew what happened, his hair was rinsed.
“Yay!” Jude clapped, breathing a huge sigh of relief.
“Da!” Wolf clapped along with Jude.
“You didn’t think I could do it. Did you, buddy?” Jude never felt prouder of himself.
Wolf wasn’t paying attention. He was busy splashing around in the two inches of bathtub water.
Jude was content to watch his son play. He never imagined his life would revolve around another person and now it revolved around two. Thinking back to his bachelor days, Jude couldn’t remember why it had been so attractive to him. Hanging out at home with his husband and son made his world go around.
“Are you ready to get out?”
Wolf responded by splashing Jude again. He burst out laughing. “I’ll take that as a no.” Jude scooped water in his hand and splashed Wolf. The water bounced off his tummy.
“Da!” Wolf howled. He started slapping the water with both hands. He laughed as he soaked Jude.
“What on earth is going on?” Cope wore a stunned look on his face. “Jude, are you washing the baby or is he soaking you?
“Both!” Jude laughed.
“Okay Wolfie, time to dry you off.” Cope plucked the baby from the tub with his favorite towel. A soft, pale blue terry. He took a seat on the closed lid of the toilet and started drying the baby. He flipped the edge over Wolf’s head covering him completely. Cope rubbed the top over his head to dry his hair.
“Where’s Wolf?” Jude asked, spinning around the bathroom. “Wooooolf?” Jude made a big production of looking under the sink and in a drawer. “Maybe he’s hiding in the bedroom.” Jude dashed out of the bathroom to the sound of the baby laughing. They played this game every night with Wolf never tiring of Jude’s antics. “He’s not under the bed!” Jude called out.
Wolf laughed louder.
“Wait! I heard that. I heard my little Wolf.” Jude popped his head back into the bathroom. “Daddy, did you hear Wolf laugh?”
“Nope! I didn’t hear a thing.” Cope snorted. Wolf giggled.
“Wait a minute! What’s wrapped up in that towel on your lap?” Jude knelt in front of Cope. He reached out to poke the baby’s belly.
“Da!” Wolf called out.
Jude lifted the towel off his face. “There you are!”
Wolf clapped his hands together. His damp hair stuck up in clumps around his head.
Snapping a few pics of Cope and baby, Jude had never been happier. The next step would be to get Wolf into a new diaper and pajamas. After Jude changed his soaked shirt, they’d all climb into bed while Cope read bedtime stories. Half the time, Jude was nodding off before the baby. Cope would always wake him up so they could tuck him in together.
Jude wrapped his arms around the baby when he heard a sound coming from the other room. Cope’s eyes widened and his hold on the baby tightened.
Click. Click. Click. Ping!
The ghost writer had never typed without Cope in the room before.
“What do we do?” Jude was worried the spirit typing wasn’t Brooks, but someone else.
“Maybe Brooks has something important to say and wasn’t in the mood to wait until