A Hard Man To Love

Life

You sat on the edge of your bed smiling at the picture of Merle holding baby Faith's little legs and crinkling his nose. It was the first time he'd changed one of the twin's diapers.

"Oh my god, Gracie. She STINKS..." Merle whined. "And it looks like mustard. We gotta take her back ta the doctor, somethin's wrong."

Little Chance suckled at your breast while you rocked in the chair of the nursery while Merle changed Faith's diaper for the first time. He had her little ankles in one hand holding her butt up off the changing pad while he cleaned her up. His nose was crinkled up like it was the worst thing he'd ever smelled and he was standing as far back from her as he could. Faith, being the happy baby she was, was cooing and reaching her little hands out to him with the biggest smile on her face.

"She's fine Merle. That's the normal poop color for a breast-fed baby."

"Why? Why's this normal? How do you do this Angel?"

"It's just poop Merle."

"This ain't poop..." He looked horrified as a gurgling farting sound came from the direction of Faith's formerly clean butt. "Gracie..."

He looked like he wanted to cry, and all you could do was laugh. Chance was done with his breakfast so you stood up and passed him to Merle before stepping in to clean your daughter up again.

The memory made you chuckle. When Faith was a young teenager and trying to gross her Dad out about something he'd just start telling the story of her yellow poop disaster. After hearing it three times Faith stopped trying to gross him out for fear that he might tell the story in front of one of her friends. The next picture was of Merle holding the twins at age five, one on each hip, on the porch of the Dixon Family Cabin. He was smiling and you were standing behind him on your toes pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Daddy! Daddy! Can you play with us?" Faith and Chance bounced like they were on crack in front of their father who was reclining back in a chair on the porch of the cabin.

He sat up, dropped his hands between his knees, and looked critically at the twins. "Did ya do everythin' yer Momma and Aunt Carol asked ya ta do inside the cabin?"

The two looked at each other and bounced some more. "Yes!"

"Ya picked up yer toys?"

"Yes!"

"Did yer letters?"

"Yes!!"

"Ate yer vegetables?"

The bouncing stopped and they looked at each other again. Chance answered for them both. "We don't like aliens."

Merle looked at his children like they'd each grown a second head. "Somehow I don't think yer Momma or Aunt Carol is feedin' the two of ya aliens."

"Bus sprouts!" Faith stomped her foot and looked at Chance then looked back to their father. "Not aliens."

"Oohh!" Merle lifted his chin in an exaggerated nod as he looked in amusement at the two before kneeling down in front of them and holding out his arms to bring them in close to him. "Wanna hear a secret?"

They both nodded vehemently and leaned their little foreheads against his scruffy cheeks as his arms wrapped around their little shoulders.

"I don't like them alien heads either. I feed 'em ta the dog."

"Merle Dixon! Don't give those two any more ideas then they already have!" You'd stepped out on the porch to hear the last of what he'd said to the twins.