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Donald had changed. Life will do that of course but this was different. He had changed in ways she didn't expect. He'd become a parent.
When she was on the moon, and even when she saw that broadcast from Duckberg and realised she'd had boys, she thought Uncle Scrooge and Donald had raised the boys. Sure they were both headstrong and stubborn, but she'd always thought they'd be working together to raise Jet, Turbo, and Rebel.
Huey, Dewey, and Louie, she corrected herself.
She had imagined the boys growing up going on adventures and having fun and never having to worry about anything. She'd imagined Donald and Uncle Scrooge arguing about if they should go to school or just have a private tutor in the mansion, if the boys should be allowed a trip to Mount Neverest when they were technically still grounded, if they should be spoiled or not. She had always smiled as she imagined them raising the children. It hurt less than thinking about what she'd do in the situations herself.
But Donald had taken the boys and raised them by himself. And it had changed him.
Donald was always nervous, anxious, a little bit scared. Now he was over protective, especially of the triplets. Donald had always had anger issues ready to boil up at any second. Now he had clearly worked on them to be calmer around the boys. Donald had always been sensible with money, now he was frugal in ways even Scrooge couldn't imagine being.
The last decade had aged him unbelievably
And Della hadn't changed at all.
That was her parenthood, her exhausted smiles, her memories, her knowledge of everything these kids did and said and were. And she'd missed it. She refused to name the bitter feeling in her heart as being jealous of Donald. It was just loss. Just loss.
As she lay in bed awake, the clock approaching 4am, she told herself again and again. It was just a feeling of loss
And surely that feeling could be fixed by getting the information she so desperately craved about her children.
Mind made up Della immediately went to find Donald, despite the hour. Perhaps there was something to be said for twin telepathy after all, because she found him in the kitchen, making hot chocolate. He didn't even seem surprised to see her he just pulled out a second mug, the light blue one she'd all but claimed as her own since she returned. She didn't even know if it had been someone's before. Maybe it was Dewey's favourite mug, he was the blue one right? Or maybe one of his brothers liked it because Dewey liked blue and it reminded them of him? Or maybe it was Donald's he'd always liked the colour! Or maybe-
"What's wrong?" Donald asked, interrupting her train of thought and setting down a mug in front of her. Maybe twin telepathy only went so far.
"Do they boys still have their baby teeth?" she blurted out. To his credit, Donald simply blinked at her once in confusion before answering.
"Huey has one, Dewey still has three. Louie lost them all pretty quickly, I think he purposely knocked them out because he wanted money for a new toy." he laughed, and Della squashed the bitter feeling and the thought that that should be her laugh at her youngest son's antics.
"Which toy?" she asked, instead of voicing that thought.
"A toy car his friend had that he wanted too" Donald said. "He didn't want to wait for their birthday to get it"
Birthdays. Another thing she'd missed. Would she have known to buy him a toy car? Would she have gotten them all matching gifts or purposely different ones? Would she have invited all their school friends over for a surprise party or would they have gone to Funzos?
"What's their favourite birthday cake?" she blurted out purposely avoiding that train of thought before it went further.
"Anything with sugar" Donald answered easily. "Dells what is this all about?"
She hesitated. He was going to think it was stupid. Or that she was jealous, or mad at him. And she wasn't. Really
"You know them. I just want to know them like you do. I missed all these big and small things for years and missed knowing them. Like yesterday, you knew Dewey was hiding a failed maths test when he came home, you knew where Huey had left his Junior Woodchuck uniform, you knew Louie was planning something he shouldn't have been. I should know those things Don, I want to know those things!" she admitted, before drinking her hot chocolate as Donald sat in silence for a moment.
"Their maths teacher always quizzes them when they finish a chapter, and Huey told me they were nearly done it last week. Dewey pulls his shirt sleeves when he's hiding something or upset. Huey leaves his Junior Woodchuck uniform the same place you always used to, hall closet, third peg, never spots it when he opens the door, just like you used to. Louie is always up to something, it's better to assume he's hatching some plan and tell him to stop immediately." he said finally. Della stared at him.
"What else?" Donald asked with a soft smile, and she wondered when he became so soft as a person. Maybe parenting did that to him. Maybe it would have done that to her.
Maybe it still could.
"Did you colour code them on purpose?"
"No they just like those outfits a lot"
"Did they ever wear matching outfits?"
"Yes I'll show you the photo album later"
"What's their favourite holiday?"
"Halloween and April Fools Day. They love pranks"
"Why does Dewey wear 2 t-shirts?"
"Gets him out of doing his laundry more"
"Why did they adopt Webby?"
"They're like you Della, kind and easy to make friends with."
"Why did you change their names?"
That put a stop to the quickfire questions and answers they'd had going, much to her surprise.
"I didn't mean to" Donald starts. "I didn't want to either. I mean I thought they were ridiculous names but" he paused and Della bit back an argument. Maybe they were ridiculous names, maybe the boys would have hated them, maybe she would have changed them. But that should have been her decision.
But she didn't say anything. She wasn't jealous she wasn't jealous she wasn't jealous
"The nurse overheard me say "phoeey" and thought those were the names" he finally admitted.
"My sons are named after you cursing" she deadpanned, barely holding back a laugh.
"Accidentally" he was blushing, looking sheepish, and there was the Donald she knew.
"Why-" and now she was laughing "Why were you cursing in a baby ward? There was babies there Donald!"
"A series of stupid accidents. As per usual" he said but he was laughing too. "So then I had to recon on the names and changed them to real names so they weren't The Rhyming Triplets forever"
"But they are!" she pointed out, still laughing. She loved laughing with Donald over hot chocolate at 4am, barely keeping quiet so as not to wake Scrooge, finding out in the morning he'd known they were awake anyway. She'd missed this.
"They get into trouble. I say phoeey a lot around them" Donald laughed "Easier to let them think I'm calling their names"
They sat laughing for a few minutes before both finally caught their breath. It was a long process as they kept setting each other off laughing again. Maybe some things never changed.
"We should probably both go to bed" Della said as she stood, taking her cup to the sink. "The three troublemakers will be up soon at this stage"
Donald blinked at her but didn't say what he was thinking
"What?" she demanded, feeling her light mood evaporate
"Dells they followed you downstairs, didn't you notice them at the kitchen door?" Donald said.
"How could you possibly know that?!" four voices demanded, hers and the triplets chorusing their disbelief
Donald simply smiled and Della told herself she wasn't jealous of that easy smile, or how he knew the boys were there when she didn't. She wasn't jealous at all.
"As if I'm going to reveal my secrets to you three" Donald said, ushering them through the kitchen door. "Go on, upstairs, back to bed. You don't want to sleep late and miss your picnic with Webby"
"And how did you know about that?!" one voice demanded as they left. Della thought it was Louie but she wasn't sure. She should be sure. A mother should know these things.
Alone in the kitchen as Donald tucked the boys back into bed - her boys - Della finally named the feeling. She was jealous. She felt more lost with her children than she'd ever felt anywhere and she was jealous of Donald's relationship with them.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. She'd never planned it this way. And she didn't know what to do.