Page 42 of As the Years Pass

“Wow, that must be really cool.”

“Itisreally cool, but next year will be cooler because when we’re in third grade, we get a class pet to take care of.”

“Oh wow, that is awesome,” Emmet says, sounding like he means it. I don’t remember him being much of an animal guy, but we were kids, so who knows?

“I hope it’s a guinea pig, but we have to vote so it could be a rabbit or a hamster.”

“Those are nice too,” Emmet says.

“Not as nice as the long-haired guinea pigs though. They’re so cute. Have you ever seen one?” she gasps.

“I don’t think I have.”

She runs out of the room, and I know exactly what she’s doing.

“You’re screwed,” I mutter, and he only laughs.

She comes back a moment later with her iPad, grabs his arm, and tugs him toward the table. They go through pictures of guinea pigs, and I hear her telling him how me and her mother both decided she wasn’t responsible enough for a pet yet.

I find myself smiling every time I hear them laugh or when I peek at them and see them both huddling close together, Emmet pointing at the screen and Judy talking a mile a minute.

I love how kind my daughter is, and I love how sweet Emmet is.

“Judy, can you get your brother, please? It’s time to make pizzas,” I say when everything is set up. I hate breaking up their little bonding session, but I’m starving.

“We can finish looking at these later,” Judy says, shutting off the iPad and taking it to put away in her room. Emmet gets up, smiling as he walks over to me.

“She’s a lot. Sorry.”

“Don’t ever apologize for your kids being kids, Adam. She’s amazing.”

My heart squeezes in my chest, and I turn back to the food so I don’t throw my arms around him and hug him. I never get reassurance that I’m doing the right thing with them, and that… it means a lot. I should tell him that, but then Judy comes into the kitchen, pouting.

“He wouldn’t come,” she growls.

I huff a sigh. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Three-year-olds are stubborn. Emmet, could you help her start?”

“Absolutely.”

I hear them chatting about pizza as I head into Ian’s room. He’s lying on his side, staring up at Bluey who is on the TV, a red car in his hand.

“Hey, bud. It’s time to eat.”

“No hungry,” he says.

I kneel down, and notice his cheeks are flushed, so I put the back of my hand to his forehead. He feels warm.

“Do you feel okay?” I ask. He nods, eyes still on the TV.

“Okay, how about some juice?” I ask. He nods again. “I’m going to take your temperature first.”

I find the temporal thermometer in the bathroom. 100.3. Not much of a temp, according to the doctor, but I’ll check again later just to see if it gets worse.

“Everything okay?” Emmet asks when I’m back in the kitchen.

“Yeah, he’s a little warm, but not much of a temp. I’m going to get him some juice.”

“He’s always sick,” Judy says. “It’s yucky. He coughs all over the place and has boogers on his face.”