“Hot? Or warm?”
“She feels like she has a fever.”
“Crap. Okay. Let me grab the thermometer.”
When Daphne ran back into the kitchen, I placed one hand on her shoulder. “Take a breath, mama. You’ve got this, and I’m not going anywhere until Dice gets home.”
Daphne burst into tears. “She’s never been sick before,” she cried. “I don’t like that I can’t fix it.”
“But you are fixing it. You’re doing everything you’re supposed to be doing. Now, quit crying and wash your daughter before she permanently adheres to me with her stickiness.”
Daphne snorted and laughed at the same time, causing her to blow a snot bubble out of one nostril. She squeaked and quickly grabbed a paper towel. “If you tell anyone about?—”
“About your secret talent?” I finished for her. “Come on, Daph. All the kids will love your new party trick.”
“No,” she said and pointed her finger at me. “No.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “What are we doing with Princess Sticky?”
“Let me have her. Can you put the duck in the sink while I check her temperature?” she asked.
“Uh, sure. What does the duck do?” I asked as I took the duck over to the sink and dropped it into the water. “Oh, is this a thermometer?”
“Yeah,” Daphne said distractedly. “It measures the water temperature and will light up to let you know if it’s too hot or too cold. Red for too hot and green for too cold.”
“Really? Seems like they would have used blue for too cold and green for just right,” I said.
“That’s almost exactly what Dice said,” she laughed. Daphne’s laughter was cut off by the most thunderous of baby farts. The following seconds were total chaos. London wailed, Daphne screamed, and the kitchen filled with a horrific odor.
I turned from the sink, torn between laughing and puking. Daphne had one hand on London to keep her in place on the table while the rest of her body was as far away from her daughter as she could get. Why? Because London had blasted Daphne with a stream of baby diarrhea.
“I don’t know what to do!” Daphne cried.
I walked over to the table and carefully picked up London, holding her at arm’s length. “I’ll deal with biohazard number one while you take care of biohazard number two.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t walk through the house like this,” Daphne said and started extracting herself from her shit-covered pants.
There I was, holding London away from my body as the remnants of her explosion dripped off her legs while Daphne stepped out of her destroyed pants, both of them crying. And that’s when Dice walked in.
“What is going on in here?” he asked, walking toward me.
“Dude, I’d move if I were you. You’re in the hot zone.”
He looked between London and Daphne, clearly not knowing what to do. “Help Daphne while I dunk her in the sink.”
“Wait! You need the duck.”
“I’ve got the duck,” I said and carefully lowered London into the water. Picking up the tiny washcloth Daphne placed on the counter, I squeezed some baby soap onto it and quickly washed London. Dice and Daphne were still cleaning up the aftermath when I finished, so I put a diaper underneath her and wrapped her in a towel to keep her warm until they were ready to take over. “Uh, I’m not trying to rush you guys, but I think she’s about to fall asleep. Do you have a sleeper or something you want me to put her in?”
“I’ll take her,” Daphne said and reached for her daughter.
I scrunched my nose and stepped away from her. “Not until you wash your hands. I won’t have you messing up my hard work.”
Daphne rolled her eyes but went to the sink and washed her hands while Dice tried to stifle his laughter.
“Thank you,” I said when she returned. “We take hygiene very seriously, don’t we, little rocket?”
Daphne groaned as she took London from me.
