Mary and Halley (sequel to When Mary Met Halley)

two

In the morning, I took Shiloh to her beloved private school for gifted kids, where she was in second grade, and then Jasper to his half-day of Montessori preschool. 

When Hank and I got home at 8:30, a groggy Leif sat with his head resting on the table while Halley made pancakes. "Not to perpetuate the woman-in-the-kitchen thing, but I don't trust his cooking when he hasn't slept all night," she said, pointing a spatula at him. 

"Hey," he protested weakly. "I slept. For like three hours." He had taken up boxing as a workout, and it was weird to see him with defined muscles, not that they were big enough to be gross.

"Exactly."

I put the baby in his high chair and gave him the plate of sliced banana Halley had prepared. "Sanks," he said, grabbing a piece in each chubby hand and shoving one into his mouth. "Wan' nana, Unk?" he inquired, holding the other one out to Leif.

He raised his head enough to gulp some coffee. "I'm good, little dude. Thanks." He groaned. "I don't wanna go to work." He'd gotten a job (finally) at the local sports venue, where it was mostly setting up and playing Security for concerts and games. "Some jackass is having a breakfast luncheon or whatever it's called and of course I'm on the schedule." He dropped his head again.

"At least you don't have to go to the children's museum for the third time this week," Halley pointed out. The visits she supervised often took place there.

"Good point," he said, drinking the rest of his coffee in two gulps. He looked tired as hell.

"Shut up, you love it there. You never miss a trip when we take the kids," I called him out, because he was the first to play in all of the hands-on exhibits.

 "Also a good point," he admitted. "Hey, who wouldn't love a gigantic Lite Brite?"

I gave him a look. "You took all the light pegs away from the other kids last time to spell out your name in two feet tall letters," I reminded him. "They had to ask you to share."

"It looked good, too," he said with satisfaction. 

Halley got the whipped cream from the fridge and shook it as she put a plate holding heart-shaped pancakes in front of me. She uncapped the can and used it to make two eyes and a smile on the top one. "Don't tell Shiloh you're eating Mr. Heart." The cartoon was one of the little girl's main characters in the little books she wrote.

"I love you," I told her, putting a little dab of whipped cream on Hank's reaching finger. He put it in his mouth and his eyes widened. The kids didn't get much sugar.

"I know," she answered, the corner of her mouth rising. 

"So yeah, I'd rather be going to the museum to play than the arena to wait on a bunch of old biddies doing some charity shit." He rolled his eyes at my look. "I mean, charity crap. Charity thing."

"I'm not exactly playing," she reminded him, since she followed faulty parents around to make sure they weren't saying or doing anything they shouldn't to their child on the visit. "Natasha said they're adding a mirror maze, which is right up your alley," Halley said, giving him his pancakes, which were in the shape of male genitalia. "You can look at yourself through the whole thing."

He smirked appreciatively at his breakfast, biting the top off one before drenching the rest in syrup. "Mmm, Natasha, huh." He rolled his eyes. "That girl has no taste whatsoever," he declared dismissively, adding two chunks of butter to the sweet mess in front of him.

"Is she the girl who turned you down last week when we were there?" I asked, picturing the tall employee with the dark brown skin and easy smile. "After she told you for the fourth time to stop racing all the kids up and down the stairs?"