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.
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.
“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.