I was lost on that one because the Webb I remembered was just like his brothers, but it was enough for Jackson to flatten his hand under her again.
His eyes were glaring at his brother now. “Why aren’t you doing something?”
“Because she farts a lot.” Elijah made the words sound simple, like they explained everything.
And in the next second, she backed him up by letting out a fart that sounded like it couldn’t possibly have come from something as cute and tiny as her.
“She’s like a flipping wrecking ball,” Sadie chuckled, shaking her head.
“That’s your fault for having all of that Mexican food. I told you the beans and spices would upset her stomach, but did you listen?” Elijah mumbled as Jackson moved his head as far away from her as he could.
I didn’t know much about babies, but I was pretty sure you weren’t meant to feed them any solid food when they were as tiny as Bronte was. Right?
“Isn’t she a little young for Mexican?”
“What you eat affects your milk,” Sadie sighed. “So far, we know her stomach reacts to anything spicy or any food with a lot of seasoning in it. I had a curry last week, and I enjoyed every mouthful of it, but hell if I didn’t regret my choices the next day when her bum exploded because of it.”
That was the weirdest thing I’d ever heard, and I sat looking from her to the tiny baby in shock.
“Ah, Jesus Christ, what’s that?” Jackson groaned, and my eyes lowered down to his hand in horror.
Seeping out of the sides of the bodysuit she was wearing was liquid brown shit, and it was pooling and spilling over the edge of his palm.
The other occupants of the room all noticed it at the same time, but not one of them gave it away.
It was Marcus who focused on the view out of the window and replied, “What? I don’t see anything?”
As I watched, a large glob dripped down onto the floor, landing loudly and giving it away.
“That was definitely something.”
“It’s just the cat,” Sadie said sweetly as Milkshake walked into the room. “He’s such a… a…”
“Handsome beast?” I suggested, patting my lap for my cat to jump up on to.
Proving his assholeness, though, he ignored me and lifted a leg to clean himself just as another drop dripped onto the floor, getting his attention.
I could see what was going to happen if it wasn’t cleaned up ASAP, and I wasn’t sure my stomach would be able to hack it.
So, scooting as far forward as I could, I tried to lift up, figuring I’d be able to hobble to get paper towels, even though I hadn’t walked at all since the accident. Sue me, I was desperate not to see my cat sniff, lick, or play with liquid baby poop.
All at once, they yelled, “No!” and lunged forward with their hands out—Jackson included, who held Bronte with his arm around her waist, meaning that it was his shitty hand he held out to me and that I flinched away from.
Seeing the mess on it, he spun to glare at Elijah. “If you don’t take her in the next two seconds, I’m going to rub this all over your face and your hair. One. Tw—”
Elijah jumped up and grabbed his daughter, holding her tiny dripping body far away from him as he looked beseechingly at her mom. “Do something, please.”
Growling, she got up and picked up a bag that looked like it was overstuffed.
“I swear, I used to be able to leave the house with a small purse. It held everything I needed. Now I’ve got to cart around half of everything we own to keep up with this little menace.”
Skirting the poop puddles on the floor, she beckoned for her husband to follow her to the bathroom, leaving us all staring at the shit that followed them. Literally.
“That’s,” Marcus choked, holding a fist up to his mouth. “Christ, that’s disgusting.”
Glaring at his twin, Jackson jogged through the kitchen and turned the faucet on. He was through there for a while cleaning himself off, while Marcus kept nudging Milkshake away from the mess on the ground with his foot.
I made a pitiful attempt at clicking the fingers on my right hand to get his attention. “Milkshake, no.”
Ignoring me, he wove between Marcus’s legs and almost reached the first splatter, but Marcus managed to pick him up and avert the disaster.
Holding my cat away from his face, he spoke to it like it was a human.
“Listen, man. I’m only just holding on by a thread. If you stick your face or paw in it, I’m going to lose the thin control I’ve got over the puke that wants to come up. So, do me a fucking favor and ignore its existence, ‘cause trust me, I’m trying to do just that.”