“Dawee?” asks a two-year old Aven, sitting happily on my lap. She’s the perfect combination of Katniss and I. With Katniss’ black hair and my blue eyes, I know I’ll have to keep the boys away when she’s older.
“Yes, sweetie?” I ask her.
“Dawee, where ith evewybody? “ she asks, looking up at me with innocent eyes.
“Who is everybody?” I reply, wondering who she meant.
“Mowee?” she wonders.
“Getting things for Auntie Prim’s baby shower.”
“He’s with Mommy.”
“Why din’t I go wif Moweey?” she asks sadly, pouting her lip.
I chuckle. “Because I wanted to spend some time with you, princess.”
Her face suddenly contorts into a silly smile. “Oh! I wan’ oo spen’ time wif woo too, Dawee!” She thinks for a second. “Where’s Gwamma?”
“She’s volunteering at the hospital.”
“She’s at home with Auntie Posy and Uncle Vic.”
“Why?” I expect this. As a father of the two most curious children on this earth, I’m used to getting asked a thousand questions a day. My patience has increased dramatically from before Aiden was born. Katniss’ has, too, of which I am thankful of.
“Well, they’re too young to move out of the house, sweetie. They haven’t graduated from school yet.”
“I wan’ go to schoo wif Aiden, Papa!” Aven exclaims happily, bouncing in my lap.
“I’m sorry, honey. You can’t yet.”
“Oh.” My heart breaks at her crest-fallen face. How adorable is she? She’s only two years old and she already has me wrapped around her finger! “Grampa?”
“He’s taking over the bakery for today, honey.”
“Uncey Gay and Auntie Mad?”
“They’re at work today.”
I think about this. They don’t really need to work, really. After the war and when they got married, both Gale and Madge were paid infinite amounts of money for their work in the rebellion. Personally, I just think it’s because they need to get up and do something. It’s the same way for Katniss’ and I. We’re one of the wealthiest families in District Twelve, yet we still work.
So, I shrug. “I’m not really sure, honey.”
Her eyes widen a bit. “Dawee! Whadda mean? Woo know evewyfing, Dawee!” she exclaims, taken aback.
I smile at her innocence. “No, not quite, darlin’.”
“Oh… Auntie Pwim and Uncey Wowy?”
“Auntie Prim and Uncle Rory are getting the nursery ready for when the baby comes.”
“Where do babies come fwom, Dawee?”
My eyes bulge on their own accordance. What do I reply to that? Katniss’ and I never talked about what we would say if one of our kids asked that question. I hate lying to the kids, so I don’t want to say the stork thing. That’s just preposterous. So I went with what Katniss’ father once told her.
Her eyes get big, bigger than normal, and her bottom lip juts out. “Dawee! Wha’s dat?”