"I'm addicted to you... have been my entire life. Just lay there, lie down, tell me you still love me just as much as I love you. No, scratch that. Tell me you're still in my love with me too. You're my wife, and the mother of my kids-- a great mother." -Malcolm Stewart
"Shit... I forgot how to spell diaper." Malcolm groans as he slaps his hand against his forehead.
Paris chuckles and shakes her head, grabbing the pen and paper from her husband's hands.
"It's D-I-A-P-E-R, Malcolm." She reminds him.
He shakes his head, frustrated with the fact he had forgotten on how to spell one of the most simplest words on the planet.
"How the hell did--"
"You forgot how to spell diaper. It's ok baby. Shit's been stressful for the both of us. I damn near didn't even buckle Eric in this morning I was rushin' out of the house so fast."
They were currently shopping for baby three-- Octavia Stewart. They were being blessed with another bundle of sweet joy for them humble abode. The both of them couldn't have been happier with the decision they had made on having another child.
Malcolm insisted they have five kids, but Paris was not up for that challenge of taking on having them many children being birth right out of her. No doubt she loves children, but she also believed the stress of caring for them all, even with the help of her husband, would make things difficult at times for them to stand.
They both had gone out to do early shopping, with Paris currently being six months pregnant, they needed for things to go accordingly as they were getting their daughter's new room appropriated.
"I know, I know. With this third baby, and the first two running around like chickens wit' they head cut off, I'on even remember my own name sometimes."
"They play all day that I start rethinking about how many kids we actually have." Paris responds, chuckling. She looks down at the list, scratching off the word diapers.
"Think we have five but it's only two... until this one comes along."
Paris gasps in shock and slaps her hand against her husband's chest, laughing. "How dare you! My daughter will be nothing short of a princess. She will act like a girl and think like one,"
"Versus her mama actin' and thinkin' like a nigga." Malcolm shoots out.
They both begin to laugh, turning down another aisle in the baby section of Burlington.
Paris and Malcolm both eye a Minnie Mouse blanket, decorated in nothing but her upper body already on both sides of the blanket. They were in love, turning towards each other as a lightbulb went off in their head.
"You thinkin' the same thing I'm thinkin' about too, Mrs. Stewart?" Malcolm asks Paris, his mouth spread wide open with a brilliant smile.
Paris nods her head in agreement. "Yes, sir. Turn her room into nothing but Minnie Mouse?"
"Yeah I am." Malcolm says, standing closely upon Paris' behind, groping her frontal area. She starts to giggle lowly, smiling at his advances.
"Even though we ain't met Octavia yet, I know I'ma already be controlling 'cause she's my first baby girl." Malcolm says in a low tone, rubbing Paris' stomach around in circles.
"I know, Malcolm. And I already know that this may not even be our last child, or first girl." She says with a wink, picking up the Minnie Mouse blanket.
YOU ARE READING
Big Mistake 2
Ficción General'To be, or not to be'... is the quote a lot of marriages go by. Once you and your loved one are married, you two have embarked on a journey of love, hope, God, and an eternal life to share. But, how many marriages you know go by this certain sacred...
