Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Ooooh, baby, tonight, I’m gonna crash your hard drive. First off, I’m gonna diagram your touch points and make your power supply surge. From there, I’ll byte your Back End and penetrate your firewall, making sure to give you plenty of RAM. Over and over again, I’ll make your processor race and your central processing unit halt and catch fire. Why? Because you’re my Endpoint, my love. My eternal Touchpad. 459, baby, on an infinite loop. Function: forever. You’re my birdhouse, Hannah. And now, you’re Hazel’s, too. Thank you for being the best wife and mother, ever. Happy First Mother’s Day.
Love,
Henny
With tears in my eyes, I kiss the letter and leave it on my nightstand, and then shuffle into the bathroom. After doing the basics of my morning routine, I amble into our family room, where I find my husband on the floor next to our beloved baby, Hazel Katherine Hennessey. At the moment, she’s sitting like a big girl on a blanket with a little assist from a U-shaped pillow around her torso.
“Good morning!” Henn says as I enter the room. “Hazel’s this close to sitting without the pillow.”
I slide onto the couch. “Such a biggie wiggie girl.”
Henn scoops up the baby and bounds to me on the couch. “Happy Mother’s Day. Did you get our notes?”
“I did. Both were amazing. Thank you.” I kiss his cheek. “All that cum-puter speak had its desired effect, by the way. I can’t wait to hear more in person tonight.”
“I’m at your service.”
Hazel is reaching for me, so I take her from Henn and kiss her fat cheek. “Thank you for the note, Hazy Baby. Your sentiments, especially considering your tender age, were most impressive and appreciated.”
“She’s a genius. What can I say.”
“Thank you for the extra sleep. I feel amazing.”
“Good. Mission accomplished, then.” Henn motions toward the kitchen. “Donuts and a fresh pot of coffee are in there. You want me to get you some?”
“I’d love it. Thank you.”
As Henn bounds into the kitchen, I address Hazel in my arms. “Are you hungry, bubba?”
“She just ate,” Henn calls from the kitchen.
“Wow. The service here is impeccable. Five stars.”
Henn appears with a mug and a donut, as well as two wrapped presents, a big one and a small one, all of which he places on the coffee table. “A present from Hazel and me. And one from my mother.”
“How sweet. Should I open them now?”
“Absolutely. Start with the big one. It’s from my mother.”
I open the one from Henn’s mom and discover she’s cross-stitched a pillow for me, its face bearing the message, “World’s Best Mommy.”
“Aw. This will be so cute next to the one she gave me for my birthday.” That other pillow bears a cross-stitched message that reads, “The fun is in the trying, not the succeeding.” It’s the thing I said to Carol while teaching her to catch popcorn kernels in her mouth all those years ago.
“Okay, open mine and Hazel’s now,” Henn says, indicating the small box on the coffee table.
I open it and find a necklace with three jewels inlaid at the center—my birthstone, Henn’s, and Hazel’s. “I love it! Thank you so much. It’s gorgeous.” I kiss Henn and thank him profusely and then make a big show of thanking Hazel, too, who giggles and smiles like she understands every word I say. “You’re both so generous.”
“We’re lucky to have you.”
All of a sudden, Hazel on my lap makes a silly noise that sounds an awful lot like a dog barking.
I gently clap Hazel’s fat little palms together and squeal. “Yes, baby! That’s what the doggie says!” Logically, I know Hazel’s far too young to be able to mimic animal sounds—and yet, we read a book about animals every night to her, and she’s awfully smart, so on the off chance she’s made that sound on purpose, I’m not going to miss the chance to praise her.
Henn says, “We met a fluffy dog outside the bakery today who licked Hazel’s face. She giggled so hard, she pooped.”
I gasp. “My baby giggle-pooped?”
“She did. Like a pro.”
“Finally, some evidence my genes are in there somewhere.”
Henn howls with laughter. I’m always joking there’s no evidence of my genes actually existing inside our daughter. Hazel looks exactly like Henn, she’s smart as hell, and clearly has her daddy’s easy-going disposition, too. That was probably the best joke I’ve ever made along those lines, though. I’m actually pretty impressed with myself.
“Hey, would you be upset if I reschedule the massage?” I ask, as Henn takes the baby from me so I can eat and drink. “Thank you for the thoughtful gift, but I think I’d rather spend my first Mother’s Day with you and Hazel.”
“It’s your day. We can do whatever you want.”
“Do we have enough time to take her to the zoo before the babysitter comes tonight?”