Highschool Lovers

don't drop the baby

I stand in the living room, cradling two-week-old Luke against my chest, bouncing him gently as I try to find a moment of quiet. "Come on, buddy, just a little nap," I murmur, glancing at the chaos unfolding around me.

"Mia! Not so loud!" I call out, my voice barely breaking through the cacophony. Mia, my energetic four-year-old, is orchestrating a full-scale performance complete with costumes made of couch pillows.

"But Mom, I'm a princess!" Mia twirls, sending a pillow flying, and it nearly lands on poor Charlie, who's busy trying to climb onto the coffee table with his twin, Chandler.

"Hey! I'm the princess!" Chandler yells, her tiny fists clenching in a dramatic fit.

"Guys, can we keep it down a notch?" I plead, knowing fully well that reducing their chaos feels impossible. Luke squirms in my arms, eyes wide with fascination as he watches his siblings.

"Just a bit longer, please?" I whisper, brushing back a lock of hair that's fallen into my face. Luke coos, and I can feel the warmth of his little body against me.

But the moment is fleeting. I turn away for just two seconds to grab a burp cloth, and when I glance back—

"Where's Luke?" My heart drops, and I rush to the bouncy swing.

"Mia!" I half-shout, half-plead, "Where's your brother?"

"Oh, he's with us!" she says casually, as if she isn't holding the two-week-old baby.

"What do you mean he's with you?" My stomach drops further, panic rising.

"Uh-oh," Chandler chimes in, and I can see them both standing next to the coffee table, peering down at Luke, who is now flailing his tiny arms and wailing like a siren.

"Did you drop him?"

"Just a little!" Mia answers, her nonchalance making my heart race as I rush over.

"Just a little?!" I grab Luke from their grip, cradling him against me, my heart pounding. "Oh, sweet boy, I'm so sorry," I coo, smoothing a hand over his head, trying to calm him. But he's crying now, full-blown wailing that cuts right through my exhaustion.

"Where's Daddy?" I ask, looking around.

"Cooking," Mia shrugs.

"Do we really need food right now?" I groan, gazing at Luke's red face. "All I need is a nap!"

"Maybe you can put him down for a sec?" Charlie pipes up, still perched precariously on the coffee table.

"I can't!" I exclaim, feeling my frustration bubble over. "He'll cry, and I'm still sore from giving birth, and my boobs—"

"Are killing you, I know," Adrien says, walking in with an armful of snacks and a grin. His green eyes widen when he sees the scene before him. "What happened?"

"They dropped him!" I wave my free hand in the air dramatically, attempting to make sense of the madness.

"Who? The kids?" Adrien glances at Mia and the twins, who are now staring wide-eyed, their cheeks stuffed with crackers.

"They were just—" I start explaining, but Luke lets out another wail, and I cut myself off. "They were playing, and I—"

Adrien sets down the snacks, a look of understanding washing over his face. "You need to sit down. I'll take Luke."

"No, no, I just got him calm—" I try to protest, but Adrien reaches out for him gently, and I can't fight the relief that's washing over me.

"Just for a moment," he promises, stepping to the side and bouncing him in a way that's soothing.

"Ugh, I can't believe you dropped him," I say to the kids, but they just giggle, too lost in their own imaginative world to care about the gravity of the situation.

"Hey, do you want to play princess too?" Mia asks, her focus shifting.

"In my dreams," I say with a chuckle, my energy flagging. "You guys are wild. Can't you see how tired I am?"

The twins giggle louder, and I can't help but smile, even through the exhaustion.

Adrien looks at me, eyebrows raised as if he's asking if I'm alright. I nod, leaning back against the couch, watching him expertly bounce Luke to a soft coo.

"Thanks for stepping in," I admit, feeling grateful, even if it's under extreme circumstances.

"Anytime," he replies, eyes sparkling. "And hey, after I feed the kids, how about I take care of Luke while you take a nap?"

I smile, the heaviness of the moment lightening. "Deal."

As chaos reigns around us, there's an unlikely peace in that promise, and for a moment, I allow myself to imagine what a quiet afternoon might feel like.