~Close your eyes and picture the warmth of the sun on your skin... that's how being loved by her felt~
Harry Styles is a nepotism baby turned new father, left clueless with a newborn baby to raise, he is overwhelmed and under pressure. Matters are...
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//37 weeks pregnant//
"Nope, bathtime, Rory!"
"No!" She grunts, stamping her foot into the hard floor of our kitchen. "Daddy said I could have ice cream after dinner!"
Looking back up at Sunday's reddening face, I curl my lips in on themselves as she flashes me a glare of disapproval.
"In her defence, I did say that..."
"I don't care!" Sunday fights. "I told her that she has to have a bath and then ice cream because I need to wash her hair before the Fourth of July party tomorrow!"
"No!" Rory shouts again, crossing her arms over her chest and once again stamping her feet madly into the tiles of the kitchen. "You're being mean!"
Sunday sighs, standing back up straight and running her hand tiredly over her exhausted face. Now that we are closing in on the final few weeks of pregnancy, her exhaustion has been through the roof. I've been taking on most of the tasks in terms of getting the kids ready and functioning which is how this whole little mixup even happened in the first place.
"I'm not being mean, Rory. I'm asking you to have a bath and wash your hair, you can have the ice cream afterwards but you're the one being naughty!"
"No!" Rory yells once again. "Daddy, tell Momma she's being mean!"
"I'm not getting involved!" I lift my hands up in surrender and turn my back on the two of them bickering.
"You know what?" Sunday sighs, her voice laced with irritation, frustration and almost on the brink of tears as she reaches the end of her tether.
While Nola and Mosi haven't changed in the slightest, Rory has started acting out lately. We think it is because of Baby Sunshine coming and as much as we try to reassure her, she just has this rebellious streak where she defies every instruction she is being told.
"I don't care anymore, Rory. Don't have a bath but you're not getting any ice cream!"
I turn around, watching as Sunday storms away from the kitchen where Rory has tears melting in the waterline of her eyes and red cheeks. Sunny rounds up Nola and Mosi who she sits on her hip as she carries him upstairs to the bath she has just drawn for the three of them that Rory is now refusing to get into.
Sunday has been at her wit's end for a while now. All day, she has been on edge and rubbing her belly every time that another shooting pain rattles through her. The stress of Rory misbehaving has caused another flare-up of pains for Sunny and so occasionally, I watch her flinch although she tries to disguise it from me and the kids.
I don't like seeing her like this but at the same time, I can understand how confusing and foreign this must feel for Rory. She is only five and while Nola is understanding it more, Rory is struggling to grasp the concept of another baby coming soon.
