Series Starter Firsts in Series Collection - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,56

and the little yellow duck that tells me the water is the right temperature. Reaching down, I run my hand under the water to see if it’s close. It’s still a little cool.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Daddy’s got you. We’re going to get you all cleaned up, and then get your belly full, I promise,” I try to console him. I’m gently bouncing him in my arms when I feel warmth and wetness on my chest. “What the . . . ?” Pulling him away from my body, I see he’s pissed all over me, all over both of us. Looking down at my son, mad-as-hell face scrunched up, red and wrinkled as he wails, I want to cry with him. Instead, I take a deep breath and slowly release it. “I got you, bud. Shhhh, I got you.”

I pull his baby tub out of the bathtub and set it on the bath mat. Checking the temperature with the little duck, I see the water is ready. I lay Knox down in his tub, which pisses him off even more. Quickly, I remove my boxer briefs, strip him out of his sheet, hold him against my chest, lift the lever to turn the shower on and climb in under the spray.

Holding Knox in one arm, I use the other to bring the detachable shower head down. I turn it to the gentlest stream option, using my leg as leverage. Once I have it where I want it, I slowly rinse us both off. Once we’re both free of the shit and piss we were coated in, I reach for the baby wash. “Looks like Daddy will be smelling powder fresh today,” I tell him.

His little lip quivers, and I’m not sure if he’s cold or if it’s the result of the cry-fest he just had. Either way, I work fast, lathering us both up as good as I can with one hand. I even manage to use it on my hair one-handed. Once we’re both soaped up, I rinse us off quickly and step out of the shower.

The lip quiver gets worse, so I wrap him in a towel and take off for his room. I’m dripping wet, but I didn’t bring a diaper and the little guy is cold. I have him dried and in a diaper in no time with no further mishaps. Dressing him in another sleeper because they’re easy, I use his towel to dry my hair and body.

“All right, little man. Daddy needs some underwear, and then we’ll get you fed.” In my room, I lay him in the center of my bed, making quick work of slipping into a pair of boxer briefs and tossing the towel in the hamper. “Let’s get some breakfast,” I tell him when I pick him up. I can still see the slight quiver of his little lip so I hold him closer, still not sure if it’s cold or sadness.

I’ve gotten pretty good at one-handed bottle-making, so I don’t even attempt to lay him down; I hate it when he cries, and right now he’s content. I hear the coffeemaker turn on just as I pull his bottle out to check the temperature. Perfect. My brew will be done just as he finishes his. I settle into the couch and the little guy begins to gulp. “Slow down, bud. You don’t want a bellyache. Take it from me, that shit is not fun.”

If Mom or Reagan were here, they would give me hell for cussing in front of him, but come on, he can’t repeat it. I look down at him while he eats. I’ve never known this feeling in my heart, the way it swells every time I look at him. To love your child is a feeling that unless you experience it for yourself, you will never understand the meaning. It’s moments like these, like this morning, where he and I get through it together, which makes me think that although unexpected, my little man and I will learn to live with our new reality.

By the time he finishes his bottle, he’s sound asleep. I take him to his room and place him back in his bed so I can get us both ready to head out today. In my room, I grab the baby monitor and carry it with me as I get dressed, then head to the kitchen to get his bottles ready for Mom’s. Once that’s done, I go back to his room and