'Trav, you're going to wear a hole into the floor if you keep pacing like that', Taylor laughs at her husband from her spot on the couch.
'I can't help it Tay. I'm so pumped. My baby girl's first soccer match!'
Taylor laughs, shaking her head at him, before standing in front of him, her hand on his arm. 'Here. Give Teddy his bottle and I'll go get little Miss up and ready', she instructs, handing over their six-week-old baby, his blue-green eyes blinking up between his parents. Edward Scott - lovingly known as 'Teddy' - was the latest addition to the family, a chubby cheeked, brown haired, miniature version of Travis.
Travis cradles the baby in his arms before walking into the kitchen to feed him, while Taylor pads out into the hallway, up the stairs and down to the bedroom three doors to the right, pausing before opening the door quietly, the sight that greets her making her smile.
Her recently turned three-year-old daughter is still fast asleep on her tummy, her legs sticking out from underneath the covers, her curly blonde hair spread out over the pink pillowcase. Her tatty yellow bunny rabbit is still clutched in her hand, her pacifier (a habit they're trying desperately to break), in her mouth as she sleeps, her cheek squished against the soft surface. Taylor feels horrible having to wake her, especially on a Saturday, but she knows that if she doesn't Travis will come bounding in with his relentless energy, which wouldn't go down well. Her daughter takes after her - she was definitely not a morning person.
'Jojo? Baby, it's time to wake up', she whispers into the room, her hand on her baby's back, rubbing softly up and down.
'Marjorie, baby, you have to get up sweetheart', she tries again, carding her hands through the little girl's curls, and she can feel when she starts to waken, before she turns slightly, smiling up at her mom.
'Mama', she whispers, rubbing at her eyes, before shuffling closer to Taylor, arms open.
'Good morning my baby', she gladly replies, hugging her close and pulling her into her lap, before kissing the top of her head. 'Did you sleep well?'
'No monsters, mama', she happily retells, paci held in the corner of her mouth as she plays with the ends of Taylor's hair, another hand dipping just underneath Taylor's top - a comfort that was the remnants of breastfeeding that Taylor secretly loved, one that only she could provide.
The monsters had been a sticking point for sleep over the last few weeks, with Marjorie waking up in the middle of the night with nightmares, meaning she had woken them up almost as often as their newborn. It had, thankfully, mostly passed now, and the little girl was back to her usual happy self.
'That's good baby, I'm so glad', Taylor replies, standing with Marjorie in her arms and walking into the adjoining bathroom, before setting her on the bathroom countertop. 'Now, we have to get ready, sweetie. You're going to soccer with daddy, remember?'
'Yeah mama', she mumbles in response, her head dipping low to stare at the floor, and Taylor's smile drops, bending slightly to look her daughter in her eyes.
'Jojo? What's wrong bubba?'
'Me not good at soccer, mama. Ster is good at soccer'.
'Oh baby', Taylor sighs, pulling Marjorie in for a cuddle. 'Honey, you're a lot younger than Sterling. You're good at soccer, and daddy will be there to help you get better. That's why we practice things, right? To get better'.
Marjorie nods, looking up at Taylor from under her unruly curls, falling over her forehead. 'Dada always be there?', she asks sweetly, and before Taylor can answer, she hears her husband at the bathroom door.
