She nods. “He really is. He’s too smart for his own good sometimes.” She rubs her bump. “I hope this one is just as sharp.”
“Do you know what you’re having yet?”
“No, we want to be surprised. Well… Eddie wants to be surprised.” Her voice grows softer. “He didn’t get to be there when Giovanni was little. I didn’t really give him a chance. So, I want him to have all the firsts with this one.” There’s a story there she isn’t sharing, but that’s okay. We’re still getting to know each other. Maybe one day she’ll open up to me more. “I just hope it doesn’t backfire,” she adds, her voice riddled with worry.
“Backfire how?”
She glances at Gio, who’s vigorously stirring the batter like he’s part machine, then waves me closer.
“By getting close to this baby,” she whispers, “and in turn pushing Giovanni away.”
My chest tightens.
“Amber…”
“I know. Mom guilt, right?” She shakes her head. “It’s stupid. Gio’s excited to have a little brother or sister, and Eddie’s excited to just be around for this one. I’m just…” she pauses too long. “It’s hard not to worry.”
Before I can respond, Giovanni looks up at us, flour streaked across his cheek like a little soldier.
“Mindy,” he says in all seriousness. “I think these cookies need more chocolate chips.” He snatches a few out of the dough and quickly eats them. “We are missing a lot. I don’t know why.”
Amber smiles, her eyes a little glossy.
“See, Amber? You got nothing to worry about. There’s no way that anyone could ever forget that kid. He’s pretty special.”
“I know,” she cries before wiping unwanted tears away. “Stupid hormones.”
She can blame the hormones all she wants, but I can see the pressure of motherhood weighing on her.
“How much longer do you have?”
“Any time now. But my due date is late December early January. I had Giovanni a month early, so I’m always ready for my water to break.”
As if on cue, the oven dings, making both of us jump. We giggle as warm sweetness fills the air, lifting the heaviness from the moment.
“Does that mean the cookies are ready?” Gio asks.
“Not yet,” I tell him. “That was the timer telling me to check on the cinnamon rolls. We’ll put the cookies in next.”
Before I can say anything else, Giovanni lifts the bowl triumphantly. “Mindy! Look! I made a tornado!”
Amber rushes over just as he tilts the bowl too far and flour whooshes up in a white explosion, coating his face, shirt, the counter, and part of her apron.
He freezes, eyes huge like if he stays perfectly still, we won’t notice the snowstorm of cookie mix currently drifting down to the floor.
Amber pinches the bridge of her nose. “Gio…”
He beams, completely unconcerned. “It’s okay, Mommy. Now we can see the germs when they run through the flour and slip!”
I lose it. I laugh so hard my sides hurt. Amber tries to look stern, but she’s giggling too. “That’s not… that’s not even close to how anything works.”
Giovanni shrugs, completely at peace with his words. “I haven’t learned much science stuff yet. But I do watch a lot of cartoons, and you can always see their feet prints in the flour. I’m sure germs are just the same. We may need a big glass thingy to look for them. Do you have a big glass thingy, Mindy?”
“I’m sorry, Giovanni, I don’t have a magnifying glass.”
He frowns.
“That’s okay.” His gaze drops to the floor. “You win the war today, germs. Tomorrow, I’ll catch you in the act!” He holds up a spoon like a weapon, jabbing it at the floor like the germs are sitting there listening.
