The next morning started the same way it always did—chaos, cereal, and a five-year-old who believed milk belonged everywhere except the bowl.
"Mom! Daddy said pancakes are better than cereal!" our son announced, already wielding a spoon like a sword.
I groaned, half-asleep, half-annoyed, and fully aware that Peryn was leaning against the kitchen counter with that smug little smirk."Did he now?" I asked, stirring my coffee.
Peryn held up his hands like a man wrongly accused. "Hey, he asked for my opinion. And honestly, who eats cereal when they can have my famous blueberry pancakes?"
"Famous?" I arched a brow. "You nearly set the fire alarm off last time."
He grinned, shrugging. "That was part of the flavor experience. Smoke adds depth."
"Smoke adds hospital bills, Peryn."
Our son giggled from his seat, legs swinging. "Mommy's funny."
"Mommy's always funny," Peryn agreed, walking behind me and dropping a quick kiss on my neck. I tried not to smile, but failed miserably.
And that's when he struck.
"So, speaking of families that eat breakfast together…" he began, voice casual, tone not casual at all.I froze mid-sip again. "Oh no. Don't you dare start this conversation before I've had caffeine."
"Relax, I'm just saying," he said, leaning over the counter. "Wouldn't it be nice for Super Dad here to have a sidekick? You know, a little girl with your smile and my charm."
"Your charm?" I asked flatly. "You mean the same charm that made me want to throw a textbook at you in college?"
He laughed, unbothered. "Exactly. Worked like magic, didn't it?"
Our son blinked between us, eyes darting like he was watching a tennis match. "So… are we getting a baby sister or not?"
Peryn knelt beside him dramatically. "That depends, champ. You gotta convince Mommy first. Operation Baby Sister begins now."
"Operation what now?" I said, setting my mug down.
But it was too late. My two favourite boys were already plotting, whispering, and high-fiving like they'd just launched a secret government project.
The rest of the week was suspiciously… sweet.The house was clean (mostly), flowers appeared on my nightstand, and Peryn—Mr. Leave-the-socks-everywhere—even did the dishes without being asked.
By Friday, I was this close to cracking.
Then Saturday morning hit.
I woke up to the smell of pancakes (non-burnt, thank heavens) and found the two of them in matching aprons that read "Team Baby Sister."Peryn grinned, flipping a pancake. "So, Mommy, what's your decision?"
I stared at the ridiculous matching aprons, the flour-covered floor, and the hopeful look on my son's face.
And my heart did that annoying, fluttery thing it always did when I realized—yeah, these two fools were mine.
I crossed my arms, pretending to think. "Hmm. I don't know. Are you both ready for a baby who cries, drools, and steals all the attention?"
Peryn smirked. "So basically… another me?"
"Exactly," I said.
Our son gasped dramatically. "Wait, that means we can have a baby sister?"
I looked at Peryn, who was already watching me with that hopeful, love-struck expression that melted every defense I had.I sighed, smiling. "Maybe… we'll see, Super Dad."
Peryn whooped and spun our son around like they'd just won the lottery. Flour flew everywhere, laughter echoed through the kitchen, and I couldn't help but laugh, too.
Because even though I wasn't sure what the future held—one thing was certain.
Whatever came next, whether it was another Lego tower or a new little heartbeat in our home…We'd build it together.