Uncle Sarge. Bonnie Gardner
He’d thought they were cool when he bought them; now he was thinking otherwise. He clumsily covered the plastic mattress and looked at Caitlyn. She might only be four years old, but she was the expert in the room.
“Okay,” she said, looking like a less-than-pleased drill sergeant.
He put Carter in. The baby fussed a little, but seemed ready to go to sleep. He turned toward Caitlyn.
“You gots to change his diaper.”
He was afraid she’d say that. He turned back to the crib. Carter looked pretty cozy, and he was reluctant to disturb him, but he figured a kid with diaper rash would really be hard to deal with.
Rich managed to get the wet diaper off easy enough, but he didn’t have a fresh one to put on. He looked at Caitlyn. She pointed to another diaper bag.
“Mommy always throws a diaper over him until she’s done,” Caitlyn said matter-of-factly.
Rich wondered if she was shielding her daughter from a close view of the male anatomy, and decided as long as he stayed between her and Carter, he could manage until he got the new diaper and put it on him.
He turned back and quickly learned why Sherry covered him with a diaper as a jet of liquid squirted nearly to the ceiling. “Whoa! How the he—heck does one kid hold so much?” He tossed the disposable diaper over the stream, startling Carter and making him cry. This parent thing was tough duty, he couldn’t help thinking as he struggled to fasten the thing.
The diaper looked none-too secure, but it would have to do. He turned to Caitlyn. “Okay, young lady. Time for you to hit the sack.”
“I can’t go to bed until Mommy hears my prayers,” she said. “We gots to call her up.”
Rich rolled his eyes and blew out an impatient breath. “How ’bout I listen tonight?” he suggested, knowing instantly it wouldn’t fly. He still wasn’t sure what he’d done with the number, and if Rebecca had left him any, he didn’t know where they were.
“No. Mommy. I gotta say ’em for Mommy.” So far, Caitlyn had behaved like a trouper, but Rich had a sinking feeling he’d just run out of luck.
“I want my Mommy,” she wailed. Carter, who had almost drifted off to sleep, joined the chorus.
Rich had the greatest urge to join in, too, but that would solve nothing. He needed a kid expert, and he needed one fast. He called directory assistance and dialed the home number of the only person he could think of who might be able to help.
When she answered, he blurted out a desperate plea. “Jennifer, can you come over to my place? I need your help. Fast.”
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