Torturing him for a few more seconds, I finally stopped tickling him and chuckled as he flopped on the bed, exhausted and boneless like I’d just made him come. “I’m you’re good boy, Daddy.”
“Are you sure? Are you my smart boy and my sweet boy?” I could see him trying to decide what answer to give, so I frowned and let out a long breath. “It would be sad if you couldn’t have cake.”
“Oh.” The wheels started turning faster as he sat up again and kissed my cheek. “I’m a good boy. Good boys get cake.”
“Especially pretty cake.” It looked amazing and was going to be the best dish there. Between the decoration and the fluffy white frosting with coconut it looked like Santa was hanging out at the North Pole. “Are you ready to go pretend to be humble when everyone says it’s beautiful?”
Nodding excitedly, he gave me a sweet, shy smile. “Oh, thank you. We just wanted to make something fun. Do you really like it?”
As I laughed, Chipmunk looked pleased with himself and started giggling again. “And we’re gonna get presents.”
“That’s right.” And we were going to cause some chaos too. “Let’s go. I’m ready for dinner.”
“And presents and dessert, Daddy.” Popping off the bed, he looked around. “My specials. Where did they go?”
“Downstairs.” I’d moved them after the second round of wrapping when he’d started studying them like we needed to try again. “They’re all ready for us.”
Oh, he had that look.
“Do you want to carry the bag of presents while I carry the cake?” The question was thankfully just distracting enough that he stopped thinking about rewrapping the damned things.
“Yes.” Rocking back and forth on his toes, he was vibrating with excitement. “I’ll be careful.”
“I know you will.” But since nothing was breakable, I wasn’t worried. “Alright. Let’s get your shoes on and go get food.”
“’Sagna and noodles and bread.” Rubbing his hands together like a greedy old fart ready to dive into his money, Chipmunk did a happy dance wiggle. “Gonna get yummies.”
No one wanted Thanksgiving stuff again and their families were going to be doing more traditional Christmas food like ham, so we’d decided to go the Italian route and do a big carb fest. We were all going to roll to bed and sleep for a week after all the lasagna we were going to eat, but it was going to be worth it.
“Remember to save room for dessert.” Taking his hand, I led him downstairs to keep us moving. “What do you think Dante is making?”
Giggling, Chipmunk thought that was a hilarious question. “Mac-n-cheese.”
It seemed to be Ruslan’s favorite food, so I nodded and laughed too. “What kind? He’s got lots of recipes.”
Mostly because he’d figured out the way to Ruslan’s heart was through his stomach…and little side.
“Oh…” Dragging it out as we grabbed the cake and grocery bag full of presents, he swung the reusable bag back and forth as he thought. “Brussel sprouts?”
He knew that was one vegetable I just couldn’t do, so I groaned appropriately and winced, earning an evil villain snicker. “No. Anything but that.”
“Hmm…Thanksgiving.” He was barely holding back more giggles. “With ’tatoes and stuffing and gravy.”
“That’s…” I had to think about that one as we finally made it out of the house. “I don’t know how I feel about that. With turkey too?”
We made it across the street debating what vegetables would go in it and were knee-deep in green beans versus green bean casserole by the time we got to my place. “I just don’t know. That’s a lot of different sauces.”
“But—” Chipmunk seemed to realize where we were once we stepped up on the porch and he went silent.
Letting him take a minute, I waited at the top of the stairs while he decided if he was going to panic or not. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “They’re going to like me. I’m a big boy and a good boyfriend.”
“You can be little or big, either one is fine around any of them, and you’re a great boyfriend who’s funny and mischievous.” That got a snicker from him and he stood straighter. “You’re creative and funny and you’ve got great stories about your family, so you can always distract them with one of those.”
He was going to be handy to have around at parties and stuff because he had a story for everything.
“Did I tell you about that time we had to go to that bank president’s holiday party…the guy with the big blue house that looks like a Smurf designed it?” My wince made him laugh. “Yeah, he was doing his best to be inclusive and it just went—”
Before he could tell me the story, Gary popped out of the front door, barely peeking out. “Do you need a few minutes or did Levi finally realize he forgot his keys here?”
