Updated: Jun 26, 2020
Joey and Zac looked at Jamie’s sleeping form. Hair mussed, glasses askew they felt this was how parents felt looking at their children. Sure he was a little monster, and got into his share of trouble terrorizing the neighborhood, but when he was tuckered out, his face mashed into the pillow, mouth wide open, well he was just plumb adorable.
Sunday Funday had raged into the early light, with the end of it seeing Jamie barely making it into his bed. The hat he’d worn was irreparably bent, the brim covering one eye. Joey lifted the hat, tapping Jamie on the edge of his nose.
“Jaaaaaaamiiiiie,” he sang. The only answer that came was an exhausted snort.
“Watch this,” Zac chuckled. He pinched Jamie’s nose shut, his shoulders shaking with amusement.
Joey stared at Zac blankly. Zac frowned, mildly confused.
“His mouth is open, dumbass. He can still breathe,” Joey said, rolling his eyes.
Zac nodded over to the end table. There was a handful of drink stirrers on top. Laughing, Joey picked one up and, leaning over the bed, carefully slid the stirrer into Jamie’s mouth. It was delicate work; almost like Operation. If he hit Jamie’s tongue or teeth, he risked alerting the tyke before the stirrer reached his uvula.
Joey poked the straw the extra inch and Jamie jumped up, gagging.
“Whaaaaat… the fuuuuuuuuck!” Jamie groaned.
“Dude, get up!” Zac said.
Jamie fell back against the pillow reaching for his blanket once again. Joey strolled over to the door and leaned against the frame. “It’s Monday,” he calmly announced.
From under the blanket, Jamie’s tiny voice held a hint of glee. “Monday?”
Jamie sprang up. He looked at the blinds, noticing the tiny bit of light filtering in. If it was Monday morning that could only mean one thing…