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On the television screen, J.T. watched the notorious purple dinosaur start singing for what felt like the millionth time. J.T. was on the verge of going postal if this kept up any longer.
On the floor in front of him, his fiancé, Tyson, and their two-year-old daughter, Laura, were happily singing along and giggling to whatever song Barney was chiming. J.T.’s anger softened somewhat at that. Seeing them this happy after watching nothing but the same Barney episode all day made him realize how trivial his anger was.
Laura turned to look at J.T., a Barney plush in her hand. She had a wide grin on her face.
“Dada, sing,” she giggled, squeezing the plush against her.
Tyson turned around at that, a soft expression on his face. “Yeah, baby. Sing with me and Laura.”
Standing from the couch, J.T. went to sit beside Laura. She giggled, handing J.T. the plush. Smiling, J.T. squeezed Laura between himself and Tyson.
When Barney started singing the next song, the three of them sang along. J.T. and Tyson were getting the words almost perfect, while Laura was mostly mumbling gibberish that she thought were the words. J.T. and Tyson shared a fond look as they both briefly glanced down at their daughter. She was happily clapping her hands and bouncing like a jumping bean.
As the song faded away into some dialogue, Laura yawned and leaned into Tyson. He ruffled her hair and scooped her up as he stood from the ground.
“Naptime, munchkin,” he said, walking toward her bedroom.
“Not tired,” She demanded. Her demand fell on deaf ears as she yawned again and snuggled into Tyson’s arms.
Chuckling, J.T. stood from the floor and followed the pair down the hall to Laura’s room. Tyson carefully placed Laura in her bed, tucking her tightly under the covers. She made grabby hands toward her bookshelf as J.T. and Tyson were walking out of the bedroom.
“Story, peas,” Laura mumbled, yawning in the middle of the two words.
J.T. looked at Tyson and Tyson looked at J.T. Tyson smiled and turned to the bookshelf.
“Which one, munchkin,” Tyson asked.
“Hockey pwincess,” Laura said, smiling weakly.
Tyson grabbed the book from the shelf and walked to Laura’s bed, sitting at the foot of it. J.T. stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.
J.T. watched as Tyson read Laura the book and made hand motions to match whatever the narrative of the story was. He glided his hand through the air to signify skating, swished it to signify a slap shot; he placed a cupped hand on top of Laura’s head to signify the princess’ crown.
“And that’s how Princess Laura went on to be the best hockey-playing princess in all the land,” Tyson smiled as he closed the book. J.T. smiled as well, gripping the door frame tightly. J.T. knew the princess in the book wasn’t named Laura; Tyson always changed it to that because it made their daughter happy. She wanted to be a big, strong hockey player like her daddies.
Tyson kissed Laura’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, munchkin.” He placed the book back on the bookshelf before walking over to J.T.
J.T. looked at Laura’s sleeping figure and then at Tyson. J.T.’s expression was soft, fond, and hopeful. Tyson tilted his head and gave J.T. a quizzical look.
“I’m ready for another child,” J.T. said.
When J.T. saw the pure elation and love wash across Tyson’s face, J.T.’s stomach swooped and twisted in happy knots.
Grabbing J.T. and pulling him in for a hug, Tyson squeezed as tightly as he could. J.T. felt the emotion behind it, the love, the commitment. J.T. knew Tyson wanted this as much as he did.
As J.T. hugged Tyson back, tears of joy streaming down both of their faces, J.T. knew this was everything he wanted in the world—a family with Tyson Jost, the man that meant everything and more to him.