“Did you see that?” Carlos’ non-whisper has all of us laughing as he points to the prince turning into the beast.
“See what?” I feign ignorance, though my heart was doing a little jig of amusement from being around my group of friends.
“The… the magic!” Noah exclaims, his face radiating pure joy.
When I look over, I see Ben’s small smile, and I offer him a wink. He blows me a kiss, and I catch it before holding it to my heart. He looks back at the television with a dreamy look that probably has nothing to do with the movie.
They all stare, eyes glued to the screen. I bet they all have this movie memorized, but it’s a joy watching them in their element.
Caleb doesn’t like anything scary, and he seems to have scooted closer to Ben. He’s holding on to his beloved stuffie he got on a date with Barrett from years ago. I think that animal has more clothes than he does right now.
The world outside continues its winter assault, but inside, we are a pocket of warmth, wonder, and anticipation. A place where a talking teapot is not just a fantasy, but a possibility waiting to be embraced.
The groaning in unison takes all the daddies by surprise, and they laugh when Jasper pauses the movie just as the beast invites Belle to a dance.
“Pizza’s here,” Jasper calls out, and everyone files into the kitchen. It’s not a large space, but it’s big enough to house all of us. Most of us stand around the island while the littles take seats at the table.
“The pizza is from that new place in town, Slice,” Jasper tells us, and we all look at the unmarked boxes.
“We’ve been wanting to try it,” Marcus tells him.
“Pizza Extravaganza!” Carlos exclaims, and the group is beyond excited as I hear at least two stomachs rumble in waiting.
And, Jasper is right. When he opens the box, the pizzas look just as good as they smell. We each dish up plates for our perspective littles and middles.
Things are running smoothly, and the sounds of conversation flow until Noah’s ensuing meltdown. Carlos, bless his innocent, pizza-loving soul, has been dealt a slightly…more generous slice. And by generous, I mean it probably has two extra pepperonis. Noah, whose slice is perfectly adequate, suddenly declares righteous indignation.
“THAT’S NOT FAIR!” he shrieks, his voice suddenly an octave higher than a hummingbird’s mating call. He points a trembling finger, which, incidentally, has a smear of marinara sauce on the side, at Carlos’s pizza. “Carlos’s slice is HUGE! Mine is TINY! This is Slice Injustice.”
“Noah,” Marcus begins, voice a practiced blend of calm and the undertow of a rising tidal wave of parental exhaustion. “They’re both delicious. And they’re both the same amount of pizza, just… shaped differently. Like clouds. One could be a dragon, the other a fluffy sheep.”
Using the boys’ dragon-slaying snow fort from earlier as a metaphor is clever.
“BUT THE DRAGON HAS MORE PIZZA!” he bellows, stomping his foot with such force that I briefly considered checking the news for an earthquake. He then proceeds to flail, practically vibrating off his chair. Face red.
“Alright, Noah,” Marcus says, tone shifting. The playful, whimsical persona is tucked away. “I think we need to have alittle talk. And that talk might involve a brief, butimpactful, journey down the hall.”
Noah takes on a panicked demeanor, and his eyes widen at the word ‘impactful.’ Noah likes to push boundaries and enjoys spankings to get refocused and grounded.
“But… but it’s not fair!” he wailed with a smirk. Yep, he knows what’s coming.
“Life isn’t always fair, Noah,” Marcus replies. “Sometimes, the universe deals you a slightly smaller slice of pizza.”
“But Daddy,” Noah sniffles, his voice now a pathetic whimper, a far cry from the brave dragon slayer from moments ago. “Can I have your slice when we’re done?”
When Noah disappears down the hall, I hear Caleb whisper, “Somebody's gonna get spanked.”
Barrett clears his throat. “Caleb, do you need a punishment? That’s not nice to talk about your friend that way.”
Caleb shakes his head profusely.
“Eat your lunch so you can go back to the movie.”
A few minutes later, Noah comes back, rubbing his butt with a dazed look on his face. He doesn’t sit at the table. Instead, he leans against Marcus’ chest, and Marcus wraps his arms around him to make sure Noah feels safe and loved.
The hushed hum of the television, a symphony of Disney melodies, washes over the remnants of the eventful shared meal. Ben, his small frame sated and warm beside me, begins to succumb to the inevitable pull of slumber.
“Is it time for sleepies, my flower?” I murmur, my voice barely a whisper.
