Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“To have old candy to put in her stocking?”
“Exactly.”
Yes.
The woman I love more than life itself is definitely still a sexy supervillain.
“Are there really no more sparkly blue buttons?” Brae defeatedly asks, shoulders slumping to the ground. “I wanted my snoductor in her symphony blues.”
Blakely pushes a couple pieces around to assist in the search. “I thought we were supposed to be making snowmen.”
“Snow creatures,” my wife corrects from beside me, less than cleverly hoarding brown pipe cleaner pieces to create what appears to be Vulcan ears on the side of her ping pong ball beings head. “Gender, sex, species, and occupation are all up to the discretion of the creator.”
“Mom’s making Snock,” Wy informs on a crooked grin. “Snowman Spock.”
“Live long and snosper,” Bryn retorts, flashing him the hand signal, which he promptly returns.
You would think knowing how to communicate with her would make it easy – or at the very least easier – to communicate with him, yet it doesn’t.
Very few tactics even transfer over.
“Here’s a blue one!” Blakely theatrically announces.
“All snope is not lost!” Replies her sister.
“Must we put the snow prefix in front of everything?” I mirthfully inquire.
“We snust,” playfully pokes my son. “Snust we, Mom?”
“We snust.”
The silliness successfully gets me snickering, encouraging the twins to continue, “Oh snow, Brae!” She angles the object beside the others that are already glued on. “That’s not the right snade of snue!”
“You sound like Clayface doing his best Shakespeare impersonation while simultaneously melting,” leaves me in between chuckles. “As your dad and a Batman expert-”
“Baxpert if you will,” Wy good-naturedly injects.
“-I am equally impressed and terrified.”
Her empty hand dramatically lands on her chest alongside a cooed, “Thank you.”
It’s in moments like these that I see Bryn.
All Bryn.
Gordonhavemercy on my soul for when they get even older.
“Is this snight?” Bryn asks, scooting a midnight blue button towards the situation. “Snoser?”
Brae shakes her head, doing her best not to let sadness creep in. “I kinda think Wy might’ve took the last ones to make his mal.” She peers up at her brother in curiosity. “Snowman mal? Snal?”
He cheerfully nods at her wordplay prior to lovingly scooting his collection over to her. “Use ‘em.” An innocent shrug is followed by him grabbing the nearest hot glue gun. “I can make a mal out of any color.” Genuine warmth spreads throughout his expression. “Let’s get your snow dude in the right orchestra attire.”
His younger sister squeaks in excitement, picks up a button, and points to where she wants him to put a glop of glue.
Mouthy but kind.
See.
All. Bryn.
“You can have some of my black buttons for your mal if you need them,” I politely offer Wy, catching his gaze. “I know they’re technically not a color…” mirthful grins are exchanged, “but they might work for details or ‘sponsor’ decals?”
He offers me an even brighter smile. “Gnarlz, Dad.”
“You mean snarlz.”
“That’s an actual word, Mr. Wayne,” Bryn playfully points out on a shake of her head while reaching across the table to put glue where Blake is requesting.
“Not with a Z, Mrs. Kyle.”
“Why is Mom Mrs. Kyle instead of Mrs. Wayne?” Ponders Blakely with a scrunched nose. “Shouldn’t she be Mrs. Wayne if she’s married to Mr. Wayne?”
“Uh…Mrs. Wayne was Batman’s mom, and I’m so not the mom.”
“You’re our mom,” Brae slyly points out.
“Which makes you the mom of our Bat fam,” Wy effortlessly adds.
“I.E. Mrs. Wayne,” I join in.
At that, my wife shoots her stare up to me. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Bruce. This is why even after marriage Selena remained a supervillain.”
“She didn’t remain a supervillain,” our son retorts for me. “And exactly what happens to her varies based on the canon you follow.”
Pride pushes my shoulders back as I try to maintain a nonchalant attitude. “I wasn’t aware you still read the comics.”
“Sometimes.” He drops his stare down to where Brae needs a second opinion about the scarf. “Between wax breaks.”
Unforeseen excitement shoots along my spine yet before I can act upon it, my wife’s hand lands on the small of my back in support.
Delivers a gentle reminder pat not to show too much emotion.
Any sign that you approve too much of something is dangerous.
It’s like blood in the water for teenagers.
I flash her a small smirk of gratitude for the sidekick save and prepare to resume creating my own snowman when I spot a tawny skinned female, around the same age as Wy, curiously glancing our way for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.
It’s clear what she wants.
Obvious that she’s contemplating whether or not to approach.
How to speak to him.
Can she speak to him?
Her adorable, nervous behavior prompts me to casually ask, “Hey, Wy?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you know that girl?” I kick my chin in the direction I want his attention to go the instant he lifts his head. “She keeps looking over here.”