The "Morning After" Malfunction: A 1,000% Wake-Up Call
[Jay's POV]
The sun had barely touched the windows of the Master Suite when my internal "Nausea Alarm" went off. I didn't even have time to process the dream I was having about floating in a pool of strawberry milk before the "System Error" hit my throat.
I bolted for the bathroom, but I wasn't alone.
Keifer—who had apparently developed a "Sixth Sense for Vomit"—was out of bed before my feet even hit the floor. He didn't just walk; he sprinted. He reached the porcelain "Loading Dock" a split second before I did, holding my hair back with one hand and a cold, lavender-scented towel in the other.
"Initiating Support Protocol," he muttered, his voice raspy with sleep but sharp with focus. "Deep breaths, Weify. Purge the glitch. You're doing great."
"I hate... everything," I wheezed, leaning against his chest once the wave passed.
"Data suggests this feeling is temporary," Keifer murmured, kissing the top of my head while simultaneously checking his watch. "It's 06:15. Your morning sickness is running three minutes ahead of schedule today. The Heir is becoming more efficient."
The Kitchen "Consultation": [Author's POV]
Once I was somewhat "rebooted," we made our way downstairs. I was wearing my fluffiest robe; Keifer was in a silk pajama set that cost more than a mid-sized sedan, looking like a disgruntled model.
The kitchen was already a hub of "Multitasking Madness." Mamma Serina was at the stove, but she was flanked by Keiran and Keigan, who were currently arguing over a tablet.
"I'm telling you, Keif needs to see this," Keiran shouted. "It's a stroller with all-terrain suspension and bulletproof shielding! For the high-risk Watson lifestyle!"
"It's a stroller, Keiran, not a tank for a war zone," Keigan countered, pushing his glasses up. "We need the 'Smart-Crib' that monitors the baby's brainwaves and plays Mozart in a minor key to stimulate early logic-processing."
Pappa Keizer was sitting at the head of the table, calmly reading the financial news while Bridget sat across from him, cleaning her tactical flashlight.
"Morning, parents," Bridget chirped, looking at my pale face. "How's the 'Little Disruptor' doing today? Still trying to eject the Motherboard?"
"The 'Motherboard' is very grumpy today, Bridget," I grumbled, sitting down.
The "Crave" Escalation: [Keifer's POV]
I sat next to Jay, immediately placing a plate of dry toast in front of her. "Eat, Weify. Maintain the glucose levels."
Jay looked at the toast. Then she looked at the bowl of lemons on the counter. Then she looked at the jar of spicy peanut butter Keiran had left out.
"Keifer," she said, her eyes turning dark and intense. "I need that peanut butter. But I want it on a lemon slice. With a sprinkle of sea salt."
The entire kitchen went silent. Keigan actually paused his tablet. Mamma Serina turned around, her spatula frozen in mid-air.
"Jay, honey," Mamma said gently. "That is... a very specific 'Algorithm' you're building there."
"It's not an algorithm, Mamma! It's a requirement!" Jay snapped, her pregnancy hormones overriding the "Empress" etiquette. "Keifer! Secure the lemons!"
I didn't argue. I had learned that a hungry Jay was more dangerous than a hostile takeover. I sliced the lemon. I applied the spicy peanut butter. I added the salt. I presented it to her like a five-star meal.
"Here," I said. "One 'Lemon-Nut' surprise. 1,000% organic chaos."
The squad—or what was left of the family—watched in horror as Jay took a massive bite, chewed slowly, and then let out a sigh of pure, radiant relief. "System... stabilized."
The "Security" Scare
Suddenly, a loud BEEP-BEEP-BEEP echoed from Keifer's pocket.
Bridget was on her feet in a millisecond, her hand moving toward her waist. Pappa Keizer stood up, his face hardening. "Security breach?"
Keifer pulled out his phone, his face pale. He tapped the screen frantically. "The nursery! The sensor went off! High-velocity movement detected in the 'Baby Sector'!"
The entire family—Keifer leading the charge, Bridget with her flashlight, Keiran and Keigan with their tablets, and me trailing behind—raced up the stairs. Keifer kicked the nursery door open.
"FREEZE!" he roared.
We all stopped. In the middle of the empty room, a Roomba vacuum cleaner was spinning in circles. It had accidentally bumped into the "Ultra-Sensitive Motion Laser" Keifer had installed the night before.
Silence fell over the hallway.
Bridget slowly lowered her flashlight. Keigan let out a snort. Pappa Keizer just shook his head and walked back toward the stairs.
"Keifer," I said, leaning against the doorframe. "You just tried to 'Tactically Neutralize' a vacuum cleaner."
Keifer stood there, his chest heaving, looking at the Roomba. He slowly tucked his phone away and straightened his pajama top.
"The sensor worked," he muttered defensively. "The response time was 1,000% optimal. The Roomba is now a 'Verified Threat' until I recalibrate the software."
"You're a dork, Hubby," I laughed, the sound echoing through the house.