“She was just here.” I swear, right beside me.
Fallon nearly hurdles over all the boxes to get to the back of the trailer, with me right behind her. We look in both bedrooms, but nothing, then we open the bathroom door.
“Fuck me.” I balk when we discover the destruction.
The tiny bathroom is trashed. It, along with Aisling, is covered in shaving cream, opened bandages, and gauze pads.
“She works fast.” Fallon laughs.
“How the fuck did she even get the shaving cream open?” I want to pull every strand of hair out of my head.
“Toddlers are geniuses.” Fallon is getting way too much amusement out of this.
“How would you know?”
She just shrugs, consciously keeping a secret from me. “Have fun cleaning that up.” She taps me on the chest.
“Fun, right.” I place my hands on my hips and peer down at Hurricane Aisling. “Little lady, really?”
She just laughs and claps, sending shaving cream splattering all over the place.
“Hey, Paddy, catch.” I look up just in time to see a roll of paper towels flying toward my head. Reflexively, I nab it. “Good hands.”
“You should know.”
“Shut it.” Fallon goes back to loading the refrigerator.
Why does she get so upset when she provides the openings? That is a debate for another time. Right now, I need to hose off my daughter. “Bloody hell.”
Doing acrobatics so I don’t break my neck on the slippery floor, I somehow manage to run a bath and strip Aisling out of her clothes and diaper. Once she is safely in the tub, I wipe down the floor, wall, and sink as she splashes, using nearly the whole roll of paper towels. After that, I get started on Aisling. Thank Jesus shaving cream is soluble. “It’s even in your ear? C’mon,” I complain.
Once I’m done, it looks like we both took a bath.
“Fallon, can you throw me a towel?” I realize I have nothing to wrap my little bugger in.
She whips it at me when I’m not looking, and it wraps around my head.“Dirty!”I yell.
“You would know,” she responds.
Oh, using my own tactics against me. I see how it is. I emerge from the bathroom with Aisling wrapped like a burrito.
“Holy shit. Aisling isn’t the only one who works fast.” The place looks a thousand times more organized than before.
“I work better with everyone out of my way.” She’s smug.
“Clearly. Baby clothes and diapers, then?” Since I have no idea where anything went.
“Both in your room,” she directs me.
“Grand.”
“Will she eat eggs?” Fallon asks as I battle to put pants on Aisling.
“If she feels like being cooperative.”
“Well, I’m making some. Let’s see what happens.”
“It’s a plan.” Aisling kicks me in the thigh once her pants are on. “Ooch, ya little rascal.”
