JAY JAY POV
I sighed, looking down at the bowl of mashed carrots that was currently decorating more of Kevin's high chair than his stomach. We had been at this for fifteen minutes, and I was losing the battle of the spoon.
"Kevin, please, hon... open up," I said in my most encouraging mom voice, hovering the spoon near his lips.
Instead of opening up, Kevin's lower lip began to tremble. His little face turned a bright shade of red, and he let out a sudden, heartbroken burst of tears. It wasn't just a fuss; he sounded like I was personally offending him with the vegetable puree.
"Oh, what happened? Shhh, it's okay," I cooed, quickly setting the spoon down and unbuckling him. I picked him up, resting his heavy little body against my shoulder. He buried his face in my neck, sobbing as if his heart were breaking.
"It's just food, baby. You can't keep drinking milk forever," I whispered, sitting down in the rocking chair and gently tapping his nose. "You need to grow big and strong like your Dada, remember?"
Kevin pulled back just enough to look at me, his long eyelashes wet with tears and a stray smear of orange carrot on his chin. He let out a shaky little breath, sounding so dramatic that I had to bite back a smile.
"Is it the carrots? Do you hate carrots?" I asked.
"What's the crisis?" Keifer asked, stepping into the kitchen. He had his laptop under one arm, but he dropped it onto the counter the moment he saw Kevin's tear-streaked face. "Why is the Little Boss crying? Did the carrots strike back?"
"He's on a hunger strike," I said, rubbing Kevin's back. "He wants the bottle, not the spoon."
Keifer walked over, leaning down to inspect the damage. He took a napkin and gently wiped the carrot off Kevin's chin. "Listen, buddy, the transition to solid food is a key part of our expansion plan."
Kevin looked at Keifer, then at me, and let out a tiny, pitiful whimper, reaching out his hand toward Keifer's shirt.
"He's playing you, Jay," Keifer laughed "He knows the 'sad face' works on us every time. Give me the spoon. Let's see if a different executive approach works."
"Here, let me try," Keifer said, taking the spoon from the bowl of mashed carrots. He sat down on the chair across from us, making a plane noise with his mouth. "Look, Kevin! It's a private jet coming in for a landing! Open the hangar!"
Kevin stopped crying for a split second to look at his dad like he was crazy, then firmly clamped his mouth shut and buried his face back into my chest. This time, he let out a muffled, grumpy protest.
"Denied at the gate," Keifer muttered, looking wounded.
"I told you," I sighed, rubbing Kevin's back in soothing circles. "He's stubborn. He definitely didn't get that from my side of the family."
"Hey! I am very reasonable," Keifer defended himself, though we both knew that was a lie. He leaned in closer, his brown eyes softening as he looked at our son's messy face. "What's the matter, Kev? Is it the texture? The color? Give us a hint, boss."
Kevin pulled away from my shirt, his eyes red-rimmed but the crying finally stopped. He looked at the spoon in Keifer's hand with pure suspicion.
"He just wants his comfort, Keifer," I said, kissing the top of Kevin's fuzzy head. "Seven months of milk is a hard habit to break. He thinks we're trying to trick him."
"It's not a trick, it's a culinary upgrade!" Keifer insisted, tapping the spoon against the edge of the bowl with a grin.
I looked at my stubborn son and back at my stubborn husband. "I have a plan. Here, take him and make him sit on your lap," I said, handing the wriggling seven-month-old over to Keifer.
"What is the plan exactly?" Keifer asked, hoisting Kevin up and settling him firmly against his chest.
"Nothing, just follow my lead," I replied mysteriously. I waited for them to get into position, the two Watson men looking at me with identical expressions of suspicion.
"Okay, ready?" I asked, gripping the spoon.
"Yep," Keifer said, nodding.
I lifted the spoon into the air, making it bank and dive. "Here comes the airplane! Nnnnn-zoom!" I moved the spoon in wide, swooping swiggles, trying to catch Kevin's attention.
Kevin didn't fall for the trick. He clamped his mouth shut, turned his head away, and let out a tiny, defiant grunt. He wasn't budging.
Thinking fast, I swerved the spoon at the last second and shoved the carrots right into Keifer's mouth.
Keifer's eyes went wide as he instinctively swallowed. His face contorted into a mask of pure shock. "Jay Jay!" he sputtered, his voice muffled by the red mush. "What was that?!"
Kevin, however, froze. He stared up at his dad, watching Keifer's dramatic reaction with wide, fascinated eyes. Seeing his hero—the big, strong Dada—actually eat the red stuff changed everything. Kevin let out a high-pitched giggle and suddenly popped his own mouth wide open, reaching for the spoon.
"It worked!" I laughed, quickly reloading the spoon and feeding Kevin, who took it without a single protest.
"Oh, I see how it is," Keifer grumbled, wiping a stray drop of red off his lip while Kevin happily munched away. "I'm the crash test dummy for baby food now? I hope you know those carrots are seriously lacking in salt, Jay."
"You're a hero, Keifer," I teased, dipping the spoon back into the bowl.
"I'd better get a real steak for dinner after this," he muttered, but he was smiling, his arms holding Kevin close as our son finally finished his very first full meal.
I smiled, looking at the bowl which was almost empty, save for one last spoonful of red mush. Kevin was actually doing great, his little face covered in carrot-colored war paint, but he was starting to get that glazed-over look that meant he was officially "done."
I had an idea. A very mischievous idea.
"Ready? Here comes the last bite!" I announced with a dramatic flair, lifting the spoon high.
Keifer was sitting there perfectly still, his mouth slightly open in a supportive, encouraging smile as he looked down at our son, his brown eyes full of pride. He was so focused on cheering Kevin on that he didn't see the "aircraft" change its flight path.
Just as I was about to put it to Kevin, I swerved. Sploosh. I fed the entire last bite directly to Keifer.
The room went silent for a split second. Keifer froze, his eyes bugging out as he instinctively swallowed the cold, mushed-up carrots. He looked at me with the most betrayed expression I had ever seen on a grown man. It was like I'd just handed over all his trade secrets to a competitor.
"Jay Jay..." he sputtered, his voice cracking as he wiped his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "That is... that is a violation of the Geneva Convention."
I couldn't help it. I burst into fits of laughter, nearly dropping the empty bowl. "Your face! Oh my god, Keifer, you looked so supportive and then—bam—carrots!"
"I am a CEO! I run a multi-billion dollar empire!" Keifer grumbled, though a smirk was starting to tug at the corner of his carrot-stained mouth. "I do not deserve to be treated like a secondary waste disposal unit."
Kevin was having the time of his life, bouncing in Keifer's lap and letting out high-pitched, toothy giggles while slamming his carrot-covered palms onto Keifer's white shirt.
I was doubled over laughing, but then I noticed Keifer's expression shift. His brown eyes sparked with a sudden, dangerous mischief. He stood up, carefully but quickly clicked Kevin back into his high chair to keep him secure, and then turned his full attention to me.
"What is it?" I asked, my laughter dying down into a nervous giggle as I backed away.
"Nothing," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he started stalking toward me.
"Keifer," I warned, holding up a hand. "Don't you dare. Keifer!"
He didn't listen. Before I could bolt toward the living room, he lunged, trapping me between his tall frame and the kitchen counter. I was pinned by his arms as he leaned in, a wicked smirk on his face.
"If the Little Boss and I have to go down in a mess of red mush, you're coming with us, Jay Jay," he murmured.
"Keifer, stop!" I shrieked, trying to turn my head away.
But he was too fast. He leaned down and began smudging his face against mine, rubbing his cheek—which was still covered in the carrot puree I'd tricked him into eating—all over my skin.
"Eww! It's cold! Keifer, stop it!" I yelled, laughing and squirming as I felt the sticky red residue transfer to my cheek and nose.
"Teamwork, remember?" he teased, finally pulling back just enough to look at me. He had a streak of red on his jaw, and I now had a matching one across my face. He looked down at me, his eyes warm and dancing with joy. "There. Now the Queen is just as messy as the rest of the family."
I glared at him, though I couldn't stop smiling. "You realize you're a grown man, right? You run a global empire."
"And right now," he said, tilting his head toward the high chair where Kevin was screeching with delight at the show, "my most important board member looks very impressed with my performance."
I looked over at Kevin, who was flapping his arms and laughing so hard he was hiccuping.
"He's definitely impressed," I admitted, reaching up to wipe a bit of red off Keifer's nose with my thumb. "But you're still cleaning the kitchen."
Keifer laughed, leaning down to press a soft, messy kiss to my lips. "Fair trade."
"Idiot," I muttered affectionately, shaking my head as I unbuckled Kevin from the high chair. Our seven-month-old was currently a sticky, red-smeared mess, but he had never looked happier.
"Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" I asked Kevin, hoisting him onto my hip. He immediately patted my cheek with a carrot-covered hand, leaving a fresh mark. "Oh, thank you. Just what I needed—more accessories."
I turned to Keifer, who was leaning against the counter, looking very smug for a man covered in baby food.
"Keifer, clean the kitchen," I said firmly, pointing to the disaster zone of splattered puree and discarded spoons.
"Wow, orders now?" Keifer said, arching a dark brow as he looked around at the red-streaked surfaces. "I usually have people for this, Jay Jay. People with hazmat suits."
"Well, today you're 'the people,'" I said, laughing as I started toward the stairs. "Consider it a team-building exercise with the counter."
"I'm filing a grievance with the union!" he called out after me, though I could hear the clink of the sink running as he actually started reaching for a sponge.
I carried Kevin upstairs, our chubby-cheeked prince giggling the whole way. He was kicking his legs and babbling at the portraits on the wall, clearly having enjoyed the show his parents just put on for him.
"You think that was funny, don't you?" I whispered, kissing his clean temple as we reached the bathroom. "Watching Dada get a taste of his own medicine?"
I sat Kevin on the counter, his skin now smelling like fresh lavender and his hair all damp and fluffy. He was wiggling around in his clean, bear-print onesie, completely oblivious to the intense linguistic training session I was about to start.
"Kev, look at me," I said, cupping his chubby cheeks so he'd focus on my face. "I've been the one doing the midnight feedings and the carrot-puree cleanup. You owe me this."
Kevin blinked his big, dark eyes at me, his little hands reaching out to grab my necklace.
"Say Ma-ma," I said slowly, enunciating every part of the word. "Ma. Ma."
Kevin let out a soft "Aghhh" and blew a spit bubble, looking very proud of the bubble but totally ignoring the word.
"No, not 'aghhh.' Ma-ma," I prompted again, leaning in closer. "Come on, sweetie. It's the best word in the world. Just a simple 'M' sound. Maaa-maaa."
He watched my lips with a look of intense concentration, his brow furrowing as if he were trying to figure out the puzzle of human speech. He opened his mouth, and for a second, I held my breath, thinking this was it—the historical moment.
Instead of a word, Kevin just leaned forward and let out a splashy, wet sneeze right onto my cheek. He followed it up with a delighted squeal, waving his arms as if celebrating his successful biological attack.
"Really, Kev? A sneeze?" I laughed, wiping my face with a towel. "That doesn't count as a first word."
"How's the lesson going?" Keifer's voice rumbled from the doorway. He was leaning there with his arms crossed over his chest, looking completely refreshed after his cleanup duty.
"He's being a typical Watson," I sighed, looking back at our son. "He's listening, but he's refusing to commit to the contract. He just sneezed on me when I asked for a 'Mama'."
Keifer walked over and draped an arm around my waist, looking down at his son. "He's a tough negotiator, Jay. He's not going to give it up for free." He looked Kevin in the eye. "Don't let her pressure you, Little Boss. Take your time."
"Don't encourage him!" I nudged Keifer. "He's going to say it. I can feel it."
I turned back to Kevin one more time. "Mama? One more try for Mama?"
Kevin looked from me to Keifer, gave a huge, toothless grin, and then simply grabbed his own foot and shoved it into his mouth.
I groaned, leaning my head against Keifer's shoulder. "Fine. I'll settle for 'foot-in-mouth' for now. It's better than him saying 'Dada' first."
"Keifer lets got for a walk" I suggested
Keifer nodded to that
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