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It’s absolute chaos in the Hunter-Grady household.
Kip sits criss-cross applesauce on the floor in front of the sofa trying desperately to keep his kids under control. They’re currently clambering for the blueberries in his hand, which he’s holding high above his head.
Two of the kids are on each of his legs, pawing on his chest, noses twitching a hundred miles a minute. The third is on the sofa behind him, his paws on his head. The last bun is binkying around the living room, too hyped up for the blueberries.
Their father, however, is flopped on his side in front of the television, dead to the world.
Kip can’t really blame him. Scott is deep into the playoffs, so his schedule is insane right now. It doesn’t help that when he gets home and the kids practically tackle him as he walks in the door. Scott is just trying to conserve his energy, although how he can sleep with the baby buns freaking out, Kip has no idea. He supposes that Scott just sleeps better when he’s in bun form.
“Guys, guys, guys,” he says. “Everybody chill. You’ll all get blueberries.” The buns do not chill.
He reaches up his free hand to pull a single blueberry out of the container. He holds it over his head so the bun chewing on his hair will choose the fruit instead. It takes the bait.
It doesn’t take long for baby bun to devour the blueberry, and being a good bun, knows he only gets one as a treat, so he hops off the sofa and joins his brother in binkying.
Now he’s got a problem. Two buns vying to be the first to get a blueberry, and Kip only has two hands, one of which is still holding the container over his head. It takes him a moment, but he’s got a plan of attack: two blueberries, one hand. The buns should be able to eat together.
In theory.
It starts out okay, but soon the blueberries have been pushed together and there’s a little head butting as each bun tries to eat their blueberry. “Guys. Come on.” They do not listen and continue to push the blueberries into each other as they try to eat. It takes them a minute, but they finally finish their treat.
They do not leave Kip’s thighs, however. These two buns are relentless in their demand for another blueberry. “Absolutely not,” Kip says. “Go binky with your siblings. I need to wash my hands.”
He jiggles his thighs to get the buns off. They take the hint and hop off to join the other buns. Kip stands and heads to the island to wash his hands. As he does, he looks towards the chaos in the living room. All four buns binky around their father. One hops up onto the sofa.
Kip just marvels at his children. Never in a million years did Kip think he’d marry a bunny. And yet, here he is, husband asleep on the floor, baby buns hopping around him. He swears his heart grows three sizes every time he looks at them.
And don’t get him started on how over the moon George was when they’d told him about Scott’s pregnancy. George had been prepared to dote on Scott for the remaining months of the bun’s gestation, not knowing that a typical rabbit pregnancy is only about 30 days. George, being a horse shifter, was used to an eleven month pregnancy. It had been an adjustment.
He dries his hands with the dishtowel and puts the blueberries back in the fridge and heads back to the sofa, the bun still there. When Kip sits, bun comes over and flops down next to his leg. It may be the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and he skritches baby bun’s head.
As one of the buns binkies too close to Scott, he finally wakes up. He shakes his head then grooms his ears. Okay, maybe that is the cutest thing Kip’s ever seen. Maybe it’s a tie. He can’t decide.
Kip looks down at his stomach, resting his hands on it. Since horses don’t typically show until at least the halfway point in their pregnancy, and because he’s only about two months along, Kip hasn’t said anything to Scott yet. He’ll keep the news to himself until after the playoffs.
After Scott wins his second cup.