Page 12 of BJ’s Lost Crayons (Found by Daddy #13)

Glenn

Carrot was in love with BJ. I can’t explain how I knew that for certain, but my bunny and I had spent an awful lot of time together.

I liked to think we’d developed a kind of language or at least a method of communication.

He would let me know when he was hungry or wanted attention, and when I needed a listening ear, he’d sit on my lap and tilt his head up at me, long ears twitching while he let me vent about the world or share a success.

And he never told me I was wrong about anything.

That was the difference between humans and bunnies. One I’d thought was a plus for a while. I had plenty of humans at work who I encouraged not to hold back on expressing their thoughts. They were courteous, but if they thought I was wrong, they would say so.

I hadn’t had that element in my personal life in a long time.

“Well, Carrot, BJ is coming over.”

He was in his play area, at the moment, enjoying some raw vegetables for lunch, but he lifted his head at my words and twitched his nose.

“I knew you’d be pleased. He’ll be here shortly.”

While my rabbit went back to his snack, I headed into the kitchen to get the lunch I’d planned, ready for BJ’s first afternoon playdate with Daddy.

I hadn’t been with a little outside of the club in a long time, since I lost my wife, and I had packed her things away then donated what I could and kept only a few mementoes.

So, I had taken advantage of the opportunity to pick up a few of the items I thought BJ might enjoy.

He had said he’d bring his backpack that he usually took to the club with a change of clothes, a few toys, and things, but I wanted to give him a warm welcome.

His little side. I opened the freezer and poured some frozen nuggies on a baking sheet.

They were not house made like those at Chained, but they were reputed to be tasty.

At least, I’d heard the brand mentioned in the little room.

And I set the water to boil for mac ’n cheese.

Baby carrots with ranch for dipping and animal crackers—the frosted kind with sprinkles—filled out the menu.

Once we knew one another better, I’d have more ideas what to prepare, but I based my selections on what he enjoyed at the club that first night. If I’d gone more often, I’d probably have run into him sooner. But I couldn’t regret it because I’d met BJ now.

I slid the tray into the oven just as the doorbell rang, and I wiped my hands on a dish towel and started for the living room. I was as nervous as a first-time daddy. Last time someone was little in this house, it had been part of a long, comfortable relationship.

Now, we were embarking on what I hoped would be a different but equally fulfilling one.

I reached the door and opened it. BJ wore shorts—not the little kind, just ordinary khaki cargo shorts—and a T-shirt emblazoned with a cartoon monster I had seen on a movie billboard recently.

He had a backpack slung over one shoulder and a shy smile on his lips.

“Hi, Daddy.”

The words, so simple, meant so much. “Hi, BJ. I’m glad to see you.” I reached for the backpack, hiding a grin. “What would you like to do first? Shall we get you changed?” I held out my free hand, and he slipped his into it, already halfway into little space.

“Yes, Daddy.”

I led him up the stairs to my bedroom, where, with his nod of agreement, I laid out the clothes he’d brought, making a mental note of his sizes. “I like your sneakers.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and held out his foot so I could start to undress him.

His demeanor had softened, his eyes holding a whole different sparkle as I changed him into the training pants, tiny shorts, and fitted tee.

He could have gone without shoes in the house, but the ones he’d brought were made to look like monsters with light-up eyes, and I wouldn’t deny either of us the pleasure of them.

He bounced his heels against the mattress, showing me how the eyes flashed.

“Those are nice.” I helped him stand up and took his hand again. “Ready for lunch?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m hungry.” But first, he dug in his backpack and pulled out a box of crayons and a coloring book. “Can I color too?”

“Yes, while I finish making lunch.” I sat him at the counter in the kitchen and added the macaroni to the boiling water. “I have apple juice and chocolate milk. Which would you like?”

“Choco milk.” He clapped his hands when I brought out the sippy cup I’d bought. It had rainbow stripes. “Oh pretty! It’s colors like mine.” He opened the box and compared the well-used crayons to each of the hues on the cup then lined the crayons up in the same order on the counter. “Look, Daddy.”

“I see!” I scooped mac ’n cheese into one section of the divided plate, added some of the nuggies into another, and the carrots in the third. “You have all the colors of the cup.”

“All of them.” He gave a determined nod. “I want to use them to color you a picture.”

“I’d love that.” I set the plate in front of him, though. “After you eat all your lunch.” I set a small bowl of ranch beside the carrots. “Deal?”

“Deal.” He picked up a dino in each hand, and a war broke out between the two whateverasauruses.

They were different from one another but not detailed enough for me to be sure which was which.

I popped a can of sparkling water and sat on another stool with a few dinos to eat and enjoyed the show.

At first, I wasn’t sure which of the nuggies was going to win, but after some fancy jousting with carrots chewed into lance shapes, one of the dinos lost his head and the battle.

Lunchtime was much more fun with a little.

When he’d cleaned his plate, I set out some cookies and refilled his cup with plain milk this time. Then settled beside him to watch him color. But to my surprise and pleasure, he opened the book wide and smoothed it down. “Daddy, color with me?”

“We can, but I have a surprise for you.” I knew his crayons and coloring book were very important to him, and I hoped what I’d picked out would be a winner and not a dud. “A surprise.”

His lower lip thrust out and he set down the crayon he held. A red one. “You don’t want to color with me?”

“Of course I’d love to.” I studied the page that would be mine. “And I know these are your best crayons, but I saw some I thought you might like and if you do, we can use them today?”

“You bought me crayons?” One of his brows rose toward his hairline. “Can I see?”

I pulled them from the cabinet next to the stove and brought them over. “They have glitter.”

His eyes sparkled more than the crayons as he laid them out and looked at each one. “Glitter crayons. We have to try them out.”

“I have a new coloring book too, if you want to see it? It has dressed-up animals.”

Five minutes later, we were both coloring away, using both sets.

“What color do you think I should use for the cat’s hat? And his feather?”

“Here, Daddy.” He handed me a purple one. “For the feather.”

My heart squeezed. I’d had a lot of plans, ideas for what we might do together, like a bubble bath or putting together the train set, but we ended up spending the next couple of hours coloring, and it was pure magic. And as glitter went? Not messy at all.

Then I led him upstairs to my bedroom and took off his shoes. I tucked him under the covers for a nap. He wanted three stories, books from his backpack, and then fell asleep, sweet, adorable, soft breaths while I watched over him, happy just to be there.