“Aren’t you a happy baby? Yes you are. Yes you are! What a happy baby!”
They cooed at each other while I aggressively scrubbed the yellow crust that had collected on a shelf support long before we moved into the house. I withdrew from the cold, white box, tripping over the cat before retrieving a stiffer brush from the kitchen counter.
“Life is pretty good, isn’t it, kiddo? You’re bouncing on a warm lap and you can see both Mildred and your mom.” The baby squealed as is if on cue. “I know! You make the best noises!” The sound of slobbery smooches distracted me from the solidified strawberry juice that caked the water tubing at the base of the fridge. I smiled and pulled back to peer around the stainless steel door.
“I swear this is just the most precious baby ever…” She sighed wistfully as she looked from him to me. “You know, I could finish that. I didn’t start it just so you would have another project. You’re already so tired…”
“Or you could continue holding your grandson,” I interrupted. “How often do you get to do that?”
She slathered his tiny, mohawked head with more kisses. “I DO like doing that quite a bit more than cleaning a fridge.” She stopped her fawning to look at the infant more intently. “I have to admit though, I have a hard time thinking of you as a mother.”
“You and me both, lady.” I shook my head and covered the brush with baking soda. “You and me both.”
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