Welcome! Thank you for stopping by. Here's a bit from A King's Christmas, continuing from my last post, a couple of weeks ago.
I hope you enjoy it.
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When they arrived home, Alyssa was in the
kitchen making carrot soup. As she stirred the pot she sung a Christmas song
from her childhood. She waved, but kept singing when her twin sister arrived.
“Don’t sing that, okay?” Lexie said.
“Why not?”
“That was mom’s song. I don’t want to hear
it.”
“You still hate her, don’t you?” Alyssa
picked up the salt and shook it over the large pot.
“I don’t hate her. Well, no, that’s not true. I do kinda sorta
hate her.”
“After all these years you should be past
that now.”
“She has been gone forever, hasn’t she?”
“Yep. Would you taste the soup? I think it
needs more salt.” Alyssa dipped a big spoon in the bubbling liquid.
“Yum. That’s delish. Perfect. No more
salt,” Lexie said. “Wait ‘till Tuffer tastes that.”
“He’ll be asking you to make it every
week,” Lyssa replied.
“And I’ll send him over to your house,” her
sister replied.
Jo dropped her bundles on the kitchen table then stopping at the highchair where
her infant son sat. “Has he been good?”
The baby shrieked with joy upon seeing his
mother.
“Butch has been a doll. But he always is,”
Lyssa said, beaming at the child.
“He must take after you, Jo,” Lexie said.
“Dad doesn’t have such an even disposition.”
Jo pulled out three jars of baby food from
the cabinet. She also took down the box of Cheerios. After dumped a small
handful on his tray, she heated up his food.
“I think your father has a very even
disposition,” Jo remarked.
Both girls burst out laughing. “Haven’t you
been watching him on the field?” Lexie asked.
“Oh my God, every curse word he knows,”
Lyssa said, shaking her head. “I hope Tuffer’s parents won’t be offended.”
“They’re regular people. They won’t care,”
Lexie added.
“Lexie, are you doing the stuffing? Where’s
the schedule?” Jo asked.
Alexia strolled over to the fridge and
glanced at a paper tacked up with a magnet.
“Hmm. Yep. My name is next to the stuffing.
I’d better get started.”
“We need to put that bird in the oven in,”
Jo checked her watch. “Twenty minutes. Can you do it?” Jo stirred the baby’s
cereal and meat together. Butch grabbed Cheerios in his little fist and shoved
them into his mouth.
“I’m on it. Twenty minutes? Piece of cake,”
Lexie said.
Jo smiled as she sat down and dipped a tiny
spoon into the mush. Her son’s eyes lit up. He grinned and kicked his feet as
he mother scooped up a bit of his meal.
“Butch is a good eater,” Lyssa observed.
“Just like his dad,” Jo said, twisting the wedding band on her finger.
“Next year we might have to get a bigger
turkey,” Lexie chuckled, opening the fridge.
