Invisible String

19

I raised my glass. “Deal.”

---

We made it maybe ten minutes into dinner before the chaos began. To be fair, things started off suspiciously smooth. Lily was sitting next to Gracie at the table with her little plastic plate of pasta. She was telling a long-winded story about how Weiney tried to eat her sock — I have no idea if it was true, but she was very passionate about it.

Gracie and Paul were doing their best to keep up.

“Oh no,” Paul said seriously, nodding along. “What did you do when that happened?”

“I screamed,” Lily said proudly, mouth full of noodles. “And then he ran away. But I was brave.”

“You were brave,” Gracie said with a soft smile. “Heroic, even.”

Travis and I exchanged a look across the table. I whispered, “She’s going to own a room one day.”

“She already does,” he whispered back, smiling.

Mira was in the bouncer on the floor next to me, kicking her legs in that adorable, spaced-out way she did when she was content. I had just taken a bite of my dinner — which, by the way, Paul could really cook — when I heard it.

That sound.

That dreaded, squishy, unmistakable sound.

I froze. My fork hovered midair. Travis looked at me.

“Was that—?”

I nodded slowly and stood up.

Gracie blinked. “Wait, did—?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “She blew out.”

Mira was still smiling, which made it all worse and better at the same time.

Travis came around the table, already reaching for the diaper bag. “Let’s get her to the bathroom.”

“Oh, I can help—” Gracie stood up quickly.

“No no no,” I said, holding up a hand like I was stopping traffic. “No one needs to experience this unless they raise her.”

Paul coughed and muttered something about lighting a candle.

Travis and I got her changed on the floor of their guest bathroom, which, by the way, had white towels. White towels. Rookie move, Gracie. Mira had somehow managed to get it up her back and into her sleeve — I have no idea how babies do this. But we cleaned her up, changed her outfit, and reemerged like two soldiers returning from the trenches.

Lily looked up from her place on the couch with Weiney, mouth smeared with marinara. “Did Sissy poop?”

“Yes,” I said flatly. “Yes, she did.”

Gracie was wiping down the table. “That was… the most peaceful chaos I’ve ever witnessed.”

“You should see our mornings,” Travis said, collapsing onto the couch next to Lily.

Mira settled right into his arms, like nothing happened. Like she hadn’t just obliterated a \$30 onesie and taken out a guest bathroom in the process.

Gracie handed me my wine again with a smile. “Okay, now you need this.”

“Oh, honey,” I said, taking it. “You have no idea.”

---

After dinner, Travis offered to bathe Lily since she had marinara in her eyebrows — somehow. I handed off the wild toddler and watched as she marched down the hallway with him, Weiney trotting close behind like he had a job to do. Paul tagged along to "supervise," which mostly meant laughing at Lily's ongoing commentary about bath bubbles and why shampoo stings.