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Harris really, really loves Troy. He fell in love with him almost as soon as he entered the team, he’s not going to lie.
He loves how caring he is, how attentive, how gentle. He loves how he almost worships him. He loves how he gets along with his family, how he loves anything apple related, how he loves his dogs.
He also loves Little Troy. He’s fun and bubbly and silly and energetic. He gives the best, longest hugs. He has the loudest laugh and the sweetest giggles. He likes to sing and dance. He snuggles impossible close and warm to sleep. He loves toy cars, cuddling Chiron and his trampoline.
Yes, Harris Drover is head over heals in love with Troy. Big or Little.
But he can’t lie. Little Troy can and will be a menace.
He’s the oldest of the three Littles on the team and usually their leader. He can come up with the most amazing ideas or the worst.
He’s usually a bubbly, happy kid, with nice manners and a sweet temper.
Except when he sleeps badly and wakes on a mood.
Today is one of those days.
Yesterday, Big Troy had (another) argument with his dad.
That lead to trouble sleeping. It took two hours of gentle words, cuddling and back scratches for him to fall asleep. Only to wake up at two in the morning, after a nightmare. And Little.
Little Troy was convinced that if his biological father hate him, Harris hates him too.
At four, Harris was ready to cry with him. He rocked him, gave him a bottle (that he refused because was a big boy), told him stories, sang to him, paced the room.
“My sweet apple pie, please calm down. Daddy needs you to get some rest.”
“Daddy…” His whimpers are pulling every heart string on Harris heart.
“Daddy is here, tell daddy what do you need, sweety?”
“Milk?” He hiccupped.
“You want some milk?” A small nod. “Ok, my love, ok. Bottle or sippy?”
“Bottle…” Such a small voice…
“Ok, honey. Let’s go get you some milk.”
Harris doesn’t have the energy to point out that he had offered a bottle an hour ago…
Of course, they both woke up on a bad mood.
No one wants to fall asleep at four-thirty in the morning, only to wake up at seven.
And this is how everything went downhill.
“NO!!!!!” Troy screeches. “That’s for babies!!!”
“Troy Barret! No screaming in this house! That’s oatmeal, you like it. Daddy is eating it too.”
“Not a baby!!!!” He pushes the bowl.
“Troy, stop it.” Harris raises his eyebrows when the kid pushes the bowl. Again. “Last warning, buddy…”
The Little looks straight in his eyes and gives it a shove. The bowl falls on the floor, spoon crashing and oatmeal splattering everywhere.
“Ok, mister, if this is what you want.” Harris gets up, picks up Troy and puts him on his feet. “Please, go sit on your time out.”
“No!” He stomps his foot. “No time out!!!!”
“Troy, enough! Take four minutes to think and then come talk to daddy.”
“NO!!!!!!” He throws himself on the floor, kicking his feet. “NO!!!”
Harris looks at the ceiling and takes a deep breath.
“Buddy, I know you are mad, but I can’t understand if you don’t use nice words.”
“No!!! Mean daddy!!!”
“Yes, daddy is very mean for trying to feed you. Now go sit, come on, up you go!”
He picks him again, screaming and flailing and sits him on small stool.
“Ok, sweet boy, four minutes. Want some company?”
“NOOOOO!! Get me out!”
“In four minutes. Want Puppy?”
“NOOOO!” Fine, everything is fine…
“Want a chewie?”
“No!”
“Ok, buddy. Daddy is over there. Four minutes on the timer, ok?”
Harris sit down to eat his own breakfast, while Troy sits miserably. Tears and snot stream down his face.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, love?”
“Potty?”
“Do you need potty?” A small nod. “Ok, daddy stops the timer so you can go.”
He makes a face at that, but gets up, legs crossing.
“Come on, honey, go on. Need help.”
“Daddy…” He whines, holding his arms up.
Ok, maybe not a pretend potty break.
Harris takes him to the bathroom and helps him pull his pants and boxers down and sit on the toilet. The kid sighs in relief.
“Close call, hun, honey?” The Caregiver chuckles. “You need to listen to your body, love.”
“Sorry, daddy.” He mumbles, face flushed. “Not listen…”
“I think today you’re not being a very good listener, right?” He asks, redressing him, cleaning his face and washing their hands.
Troy nods and hides on his chest. “Sorry…”
“That’s ok. Come on, two more minutes.”
“Daddy…” He whispers as he sits.
“Yes.”
“Puppy?”
“Of course.”
Ten minutes later, the kid is out of time out and the floor is clean. Harris just gets him another bowl of oatmeal with big chunks of apple that Troy deems as “not baby food”.
Troy eats a handful of spoons before asking to cuddle Chiron.
“Honey, you need some food on your tummy.”
“Not hungry…”
“You still need something to eat. What do you want?”
“Milk?”
Harris decide that a meal replacement is ok for now. “Bottle or sippy?”
This is a redo from last night…
“Bottle…”
Harris doesn’t comment.
When Shane asks him to take Chiron to practice, he sends a photo of his own baby, drinking a bottle using the dog as a pillow,
He feels a growing headache…
“Troy, come on. Get dressed! Let’s go!” Harris rubs his temples.
“All done!!”
Troy bundles out of the room. On his practice gear. Swinging his skates.
“Oh, honey pie…” He shakes his head. “You won’t go to practice today. Let’s get you something cozier to wear and we’ll ask Holzy to take you for a few laps.”
The skates drop on the floor with a loud clank. Harris tries not to wince at the blades scratching the wood floor.
“NO!!!” Ok, coach probably heard that from across the town. “I WANT TO PLAY!!!”
He drops on his butt and bangs the skates on the floor.
“Troy!” Harris almost shouts. “What are you doing! Stop right now!”
“NO!!!!! PLAY!!!” He bangs even harder.
“Give that to me, young mister!!” Harris crouches at his eye level. “This is not acceptable behaviour!”
He reaches for the skates.
So Troy does the unthinkable. He throws the things at him.
The Caregiver is able to dodge the bladed shoes. He swallows the impatience and the harsh words bubbling in his throat.
“Troy. What did you do?”
His lip tremble, eyes shining with tears. “Nothing…”
“Nothing?” Harris has to take a deep steady breath. He’s not going to scream at his boy. “Daddy, will ask again. What did you do?”
“Bang skates…” He fidgets.
“And…”
“Potty, daddy?” Always the same deflection.
“Yes, you can go potty.” He hauls him up and onto the bathroom.
When the kid is sitting on the toilet, he kneels in front of him.
“Troy, tell daddy what you did…”
“Pee..”
“Troy, daddy is not joking. You did a very naughty thing, tell daddy.”
“Throw skates…” He mumbles.
“And why is that naughty?”
“Knifey things…”
“Yes, skates have knifey blades. You could have hurt daddy.” He brushes the hair out of the kid’s eyes. “Did you want to hurt daddy?”
“No!!!! No, Daddy!!!! Sowwy!!!!!” He reaches for him.
He hugs the boy.
“Ok, my apple pie. Daddy forgives you. But there won’t be any skating today. Let’s go get you a sweatshirt.”
“No skate?”
“No, Troy, no skate.”
“With Holzy?”
“Love, what happens when we do bad choices?”
“Time out?”
“And you already had time out today. And you did an even worse choice, right?”
“Yeah…” He mumbles, raising his arms for the sweatshirt.
“So what’s next?”
“Cons’quence…”
“That’s right. And the consequence of not being careful with your skates is no skating. You know that.”
The kid looks so sad that he almost goes back on his word. Almost…
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweety?”
“Carry?”
“Yes, my love, come here.”
Harris carries him to the car, buckles him and kisses his head.
He pretends not to see the thumb on his mouth.
This will be a long day…
His boy needs him. Even when he’s a little menace.