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“No!” Pip’s shout sliced through the sleepy Sunday morning.
Alexander froze in the entry to the kitchen, palm of his heel resting on his eye where he’d been rubbing away the last of the sleep crust. His son ran over to him and started insistently pushing on his knees. He looked over at Eliza, who was squatting by the cabinet where they kept their cookware, her hand braced against her rounded belly.
“No yelling, Pip. You know better,” Eliza scolded.
Pip pouted up at him. “Back to bed.”
“What?”
“We were trying to make you breakfast in bed.” Eliza heaved herself up with the aid of the counter. “You got up too soon.”
He smiled. “Oh. Sorry.”
“Well, it’s not much of a surprise now, but happy father’s day.”
“Thanks.”
“Bed.” Pip ordered again.
“I think I’d rather eat out here with you and Mom, anyway,” he said, lifting Pip up and carrying him towards the table. Pip’s hair was adorably bed mussed, and he placed a kiss to the messy mop before settling him into his booster seat. “What are we having?”
Eliza popped open the fridge and replaced a carton of eggs. “Scrambled eggs and sausage. Want some coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
He sifted through the pile of mail on the table, intending to clear it for their meal. A powder blue envelope peeked out from under the coupon mailer from the local grocery store. Picking it up for a closer look, he felt his stomach drop. Stamped in red over the addressee were the words, “No forwarding address. Return to sender.”
“What’s that?” Eliza placed a steaming mug down on the table and touched a hand to his shoulder blade.
He tilted the card so she could see it. “I guess my dad moved again.”
“Oh, honey.” Her arms wrapped around his waist, her pregnant belly hard and firm against his back, and she hooked her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Me too.”
She pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling away to finish breakfast.
Using his thumb to tear open the back of the envelope, he pulled out the card decorated with a row boat reminiscent of the one his father had used to take him fishing when he was six. Inside, he’d scrawled a long, heartfelt message about all the wonderful developments in his life over the past few years: updates about his work for the Senator, the little house he and Eliza had purchased, and silly stories about his irrepressible two year old. He retrieved the photo of Pip, mugging for the camera with chocolate ice cream smeared across his lips, and the sonogram of their expected little girl.
“That’s me,” Pip announced. He’d stood up on his booster seat to see what his father was looking at. His little fingers reached out to point at the photo, as though Alexander might be having difficulty identifying the subject.
“Yeah it is. That’s my little goofball,” he laughed, kissing his son again. Spirits lifted slightly, he propped the pictures up in front of the vase of flowers and gathered up the rest of the mail to place on the counter.
“Do you want to give Daddy his present before we eat?” Eliza asked, attention fixed on the frying pan.
“Present!” Pip exclaimed, scrambling down from the chair to race into the living room.
He caught Eliza’s eye, and they shared a smile.
Pip returned seconds later, his flat feet pounding on the wood floor, carrying a long, skinny box with a card taped to the front. “Here,” Pip said, thrusting the box at Alexander.
“What do you say, Pip?” Eliza pressed.
“Happy Daddy’s day,” Pip added, distracted as he climbed back up into his seat.
“Thank you.” Alexander sat down at the table. Turning the box around, he smiled. “Well, now, I wonder what this could be.”
The card was an 8 ½ by 11 sheet of printer paper folded down the side with ‘Happy Father’s Day!’ printed along the top in Eliza’s neat handwriting. Pip had scribbled a rainbow of colors with crayon all over the front in no discernible pattern. He opened the paper up to find a drawing of a square and three stick figures, a big yellow blob at the top presumably meant to be the sun.
“You and me and Mommy,” Pip explained, leaning over the table to point again. Eliza’s stick figure had a circle drawn around the middle, meant to signify her belly, Alexander guess. “Is this your little sister?”
Pip nodded. “And that’s my slide.”
He saw a big blue line going up from the grass off the side of the page. They’d bought a plastic swing-set weeks ago to set up in the yard, but he hadn’t actually had time to put it together yet. Tracing his finger over the line, he suggested, “We should put your slide together after we eat.”
Pip bounced excitedly in his seat.
“Open the present, already,” Eliza said, grinning as she scooped eggs onto three plates.
“I’m opening,” he said, grinning back at her. Tearing the wrapping paper off the box, he pulled off the top to find a garishly patterned green and yellow tie inside. He laughed and looked over at his wife.
“Pip picked it out all by himself at the store,” she explained with a pointed look.
That made sense. “Thank you, Pip. I love it.”
“It has green. That’s your favorite,” Pip said, clearly proud of himself.
“I’ll wear it to work tomorrow,” he promised. Clattering dishes and silverware drew his attention to Eliza. “Do you need help, Bets?”
“Please,” she said.
He jumped up and grabbed two of the plates, placing the plastic Power Rangers one down in front of his son. Pip dug in immediately, grabbing a sausage link with his hands, not bothering with utensils. Tussling Pip’s hair, he said, “I’ll get the napkins.”
They’d barely finished eating when Pip clambered out of his seat and bounded towards the back door. “Slide!” he demanded, grubby hands twisting futilely over the plastic child protected doorknob.
“In a minute,” Alexander said. “First, we wash our hands and help Mommy load the dishes into the dishwasher.”
Pip pouted, but slunk back to the kitchen. Alexander lifted him by the armpits onto a stool so he could reach the sink, and squirted a generous amount of hand soap into the boy’s palm. Pip shoved his hands under the tap, letting the water wash off the soap.
“Rub your hands together, honey,” Eliza directed.
Most of the soap had already run off by the time Pip clapped his hands together. Alexander pumped the hand soap over Pip’s hands again, helped him wash properly, then gave him a paper towel to dry off. Then he helped Eliza clear the table, loading the dirty dishes into the washer and squirting dish soap into the frying pan.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Eliza said, kissing him.
He ran his palm over the side of her belly. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“Slide!” Pip demanded again, waiting impatiently by the back door.
“Yes, yes, okay. Slide.”
“Think you can manage by yourself?” Eliza asked, smirking at him as she handed over a box cutter.
“I think I can manage to pop a few pieces of plastic together,” he said.
The door knob was slick with sausage grease, and it took him two tries to turn it properly. When the door opened, Pip raced outside, bounding across their fenced in yard with his usual manic energy. The swing-set was in three large boxes, leaning against the house. He stooped down to start unpacking the pieces.
The walls around the slide support clicked into place easily enough. Pip was ecstatic to help install the slide itself, though his only job was to kneel at the bottom and try to keep it from moving too much. The inside support system created a tunnel that Pip watched come together with wide eyes.
Sun blared down on them as Alexander fought with the last of the tunnel structure, sweat beading on his brow. The final piece didn’t seem to want to line up properly. Wiping a hand over his forehead, he tried again, biting down a swear when the piece slipped again.
“Can I slide, now, Daddy?” Pip asked.
“Just a minute, bud.”
“How’s it going?” Eliza called from the backdoor, watching them with a soft expression.
“The last piece won’t go in,” he replied, frustration in his tone.
“Need some help?”
He nodded.
She made her way over and knelt beside him. With hardly any effort at all, she slid the final piece into place, then gave him a smug smile. He rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, okay, you’re better at this than me.”
“Just nice to hear you say it,” Eliza said.
He kissed her firmly. “Will you help assemble the swing piece?”
“Happily.”
Together, they worked at attaching the plastic swings to the bar supports and digging the poles deep enough into the earth to keep the whole structure steady. Pip raced around them, touching every surface with barely contained excitement. When at last they declared the set complete, Pip let out a whoop of joy and bounded headfirst into the slide tunnel, crawling around the twists and peeking out at them through the little transparent window.
Eliza relaxed back into his arms and waved at Pip when he emerged at the top of the slide. Alexander rested his head against hers and rubbed his hand over their baby, delighted to feel the little nudges from a foot or elbow. He kissed her temple, feeling blissfully content.