Chapter 74
Michael was now eight weeks old when the guys had a rare weekend off after a PPV. They and the girls had been taking in a DVD since it had been raining outside, Paul holding Michael in the crook of his arm while Mac and Kira spread out on the floor in front of them munching popcorn.
“I’ll be in the den doing bills,” Montana announced. “Want me to take Michael?”
“Nah, he’s cool,” Paul said, grinning down at the baby in his lap as Brian plopped down on the couch beside him, handing him a soda. “Here you go, dude.”
“Thanks, Spank.” He popped the can open.
The only sound in the room was the occasional giggle from the girls at something on the screen or Brian making commentary during the movie. Soon they heard a strange sound and Paul jumped.
Brian quirked a brow at him and the girls turned around and gave Paul a look, all three making a face at the smell that filled the room.
“Papi!” Mac cried. “You are so gross!”
“Ewwwwwww!” Kira complained, holding her nose. “Papi, you stink.”
“Damn, PL, what the hell crawled up your ass and died?” Brian asked, glaring at him like he was responsible for the offensive odor.
“I swear, guys, it was Mikey,” Paul said. “I felt vibration.”
“Oh, that’s real class, dude, blaming, a poor, defenseless baby.” Brian rolled his eyes.
“Then you hold him and pray it was just a fart,” Paul retorted, handing him Michael, who began to fuss.
“Poor kid,” Brian said, beginning to take the baby. “Your papi rips one, tries to lay the blame on you and….Jesus Christ! Phew!” He made a face.
“Told you so,” Paul said.
“Montana! Could you come out here for a minute?”
“What’s going on out here?”
“Take a whiff and find out,” Paul replied. “What the hell is in that milk of yours anyway?”
She picked up Michael. “Oh, for the love of cookies; all this fuss over one little dirty diaper. Come on, sweetheart, let’s go get this nasty thing off of you.”
She took Michael up to the nursery, laying him on the changing table and unsnapped his onesie, removing the soiled diaper with as little fuss as possible and depositing the offensive item in a plastic bag before cleaning the baby up and putting on a fresh diaper.
“You know, I will never figure out your daddy,” Montana chattered to the baby as she snapped up his onesie. “Those two out there think nothing of beating up men twice their size in front of millions of people, but they’re afraid of a little bit of baby poop. If only the world knew, huh?”
Michael’s green eyes shone as he smiled up at his mother. Montana picked him up along with the bag containing the dirty diaper, carrying both back downstairs.
“Here,” she said, tossing the bag on Paul’s lap. “Make yourself useful and take that to the Dumpster.”
Paul jumped. “Jesus!”
Brian leaned to the back of the couch laughing.
Paul took the bag and plopped it in his lap. “Just for that, smart ass, you’re coming with me.”
“Fucking hell, dude!” He tossed the bag back at Paul, who tossed it back at him. This continued for a few minutes.
“Will you two knock it off and take that to the Dumpster?” Montana shook her head and sighed, going back into the den, this time taking Michael to put him down for a nap.
“What’s the big deal anyway?” Mac asked. “It’s only baby poop.”
“Then you can take it out,” Paul said.
“Uh uh.” Mac shook her head. “Mami said you had to.”
“You are no help at all,” Paul sighed, finally picking up the bag.
“Sorry,” Mac shrugged as the girls went back to the movie.
Later:
Montana had still been working in the den after Brian had gone home; the girls in the basement giggling while playing Twister, and Paul messing around on his laptop checking email. She heard Michael over the baby monitor waking from his nap.
“Paul, could you do me a favor and check Michael?” Montana asked.
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” he answered, getting up to get the baby.
He walked into Michael’s room, where he was greeted with a grin. “Ahh, there is my little prince, greeting me with a big smile. You must have had a good nap, huh?”
Paul then picked him up. “And greeting me with a wet ass too. Oquela, the things your mami sticks me with. Okay, kid, let’s take care of this.”
He lay Michael on the changing table, going for a clean diaper and a dry onesie, before removing the wet items and cleaning the baby up, making sure he was immaculate.
It was then that Michael peed a perfect arc, some of it landing on Paul’s shirt.
He jumped back. “Aw, Mikey, come on, dude! This was my best T-shirt! Couldn’t you have done that while the diaper was still on?”
Michael looked up, a wide, toothless grin on his face as Paul ripped off his shirt, throwing it in a nearby hamper.
“Oh yeah, yuk it up now, kid, but just remember, one of these days, you’ll be doing diaper changing to your own kids and we’ll see who’s laughing then.”
He finally managed to get the diaper and clean onesie on Michael before picking him up and heading back downstairs where Montana was still in the den.
“Here’s your human fountain,” Paul said, handing the baby over.
“Where’s your shirt?” Montana asked.
“Mikey christened it while I was changing him. What a day. First I got to take a shit bag out in the rain, then I get pissed on by my own son. I should have stayed in bed.”
“Paul, if I had a dollar for each time I got peed on, pooped on and spit up on by this child, you could go into early retirement right now,” Montana replied. “Compared to most days, this was a mild one, so consider yourself practically unscathed. Besides, you’re washable and so are your clothes, and I need to do laundry anyway.”
“I’m just glad Spanky wasn’t here when that happened or I’d never heard the end of it.”
“Right. See, things aren’t so bad after all, are they?”
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