Life Changes

7. I've Been Trying To Fix My Pride, But That Shit's Broken

Louis would sneakily crumple his designated sticky notes so he could have more free time for himself and screw Harry over. He would scrunch his lips in a teasing smirk while he acted like a little shit. Harry would discover Louis' mischievous act minutes later, squinting his eyes at the renewed calendar and looking both ways before sticking Louis' yellow tabs back up.

Harry still had to have some time for himself though, so he would light up a few scented candles and proceed to rid Isabella's toys from the bathtub and finally slip inside. Only, he would later find one of Isabella's toys prodding his bum. He would thrash around in the water and pull out Isabella's toy duck with a splash, rolling his eyes and throwing the squeaky toy over the edge of the tub.

Louis spent his mornings with Isabella watching football highlights, shouting out motivational cries for Manchester United while Isabella legitimately cried with a trail of tears cracking her rosy cheeks.

"What? You wanna watch something else?" Louis would say, switching the channel to the Doncaster Rovers playing.

Isabella would merely cry harder, Louis groaning out a protest in defeat and flicking the channel to The Wiggles. Louis would frown in indignation, looking down to see Isabella was starry-eyed and quiet, her mouth flopping open in awe. He would sigh and rub his hands on his face, propping up his legs on the coffee table and lacing his fingers at the back of his head.

Louis was always up for trying new things that revolved around babies. On his way home from Tesco one day, he picked up a baby sling carrier. He looked over the instructions and harnessed the sling across his chest. He scanned the directions one last time and hitched Isabella up into the carrier, letting her go and Isabella falling to the floor. He gasped and picked Isabella up quickly, cradling her head and looking for any signs of possible bruises.

"You okay? You okay?" Louis widened his eyes at her, Isabella giggling in response. "Good. Okay. I'm sorry."

Louis hugged Isabella to his chest protectively, sealing his lips shut and making a mental note to never mention the accident to Harry.

Isabella still wouldn't try Harry's cooking. Harry kept fighting with Isabella on the food he'd prepare for her, Isabella crying deafeningly and twisting her body away from the spoon. Tear tracks stained Isabella's cheeks, Harry letting out a frustrated shout and dropping the spoon with a resigned slump of his shoulders. Harry rubbed his throbbing temples and bowed his head, his clasped hands covering the painful expression dawning on his face.

There were many challenges that came with raising Isabella, but Louis and Harry weren't quitters. Despite everything, all the fights and the struggles and the laughs were worth it. It was good. It was a little bit messy and outright chaotic, but it worked.

Kind of like Louis and Harry.

Today, and like every other day, Louis and Harry were having Family Bathtime with Isabella. They set up a time in the afternoon, 7 o'clock sharp, to put aside their priorities and bathe Isabella in bubbles and play with her for a bit. Even though Harry was deprived of his Me Time, he was still happy to see the smile on Isabella's face.

Isabella was squealing giddily a few moments ago, but now she was strangely quiet. Too quiet. Isabella raised her eyebrows curiously, her mouth parting open in a 'o' shape. Harry suddenly registered it as her poop face, red warning signs going off inside his head.

"She's making the poop face," Harry announced anxiously.

"What do you mean she's making the poop face?" Louis frowned, his forearms hanging off the edge of the wet tub.

"Poop face!" Harry scrambled upright and picked Isabella up in his arms, his t-shirt getting soaked through for his skin to show. "Oh, God! She's gonna poop in the tub!"