Page 142 of Then You Happened
He giggles at the sight of it.
It’s the kind of giggle that would make any mom surrounded by the chaos of preparing Thanksgiving dinner stop and stare. It’s the kind that reminds you that this kind of craziness is good, worth it, because someone like Tack is a part of it.
His belly giggle is music to my ears and I lower myself on my knees to the floor. “Tack.”
“Yes, Momma,” he says, those eyes and dimples of his that match his daddy’s win me over in much the same way.
“I love you.”
“Kisses!” my two-year-old shouts, and in keeping with our typical routine, he runs full force into my arms for love.
After my cheek is covered in slobbery, little boy kisses, I squeeze him tight a little longer than usual. I relish the moment in a way I never thought I’d get the chance to. I take the second to adore my second child before my first catches sight, gets jealous, and demands twice as much attention in turn.
But the usual doesn’t play out because Rein squeals in excitement at the exact same time the front door opens, sending a gust of snowflakes into the hallway.
“Smells good!” Jack says, and even amid all the other voices that follow suit, his is the one that still causes butterflies in my stomach. His is the one that still puts that automatic smile on my lips.
“It’s utter chaos in here,” I call out as I wipe my hands on a dishtowel, “but that’s what you get when you let a two- and four-year-old help.”
I turn the corner and stop in my tracks.
It’s a simple sight that I’m certain is unfolding all over the United States of America tonight. My friends and family all just walked in, chattering away as they take off their coats and readying themselves for the good, the bad, and the ugly of family time during the holidays.
Click.
There is something about this snapshot of a picture that awes me.
Because it’s mine.
“Hey.” Jack’s hands slide around my waist and pull me into him for a soft kiss. “Dinner smells good. You smell better.” His hand squeezes my ass, and my eyes flash up to his. “I know a way we can work off those calories later,” he murmurs with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows.
“I’m sure you do.” I bat his hands away as if they annoy me when they do anything but.
Tack’s squeals fill the air as he sees Will, his favorite of the group.
“If it’s not my favorite squirt, Bridle,” Will says, carrying on the running joke of our family and friends over our kids’ names.
“Nope!” Tack yells.
“Oh, you’re right. I forgot. It’s Hoof. Nice to meet you, Hoof.” Will holds out his hand to shake Tack’s and receives a belly giggle in response.
“No way.”
“Hmm. Let me think. Horseshoe?”
Another giggle. “It’s Tack!” he shouts before Will picks him up and spins him around.
Rein runs into the room with a flying leap, her bouncy curls flying and new dress whirling around her as she waits for someone to take notice of her sparkly shoes.
“Fi will notice first,” Jack says.
“Oh my god!” Fi says as if on cue and moves to hug our little drama queen.
“It’ll be weird without Sylvester,” Jack says quietly.
I nod, my chest constricting at the thought and knowing it’s weird for him without Lauren here too.
But Jack and Lauren’s relationship beats to its own drum as Jack controls the tempo. This year, he chose to forgo inviting her, but it was his choice, so I didn’t push.
