Why am I wearing a watermelon? Well, besides the obvious benefits for my glutes, nine months ago, not one, but all four of our wives ended up pregnant.Too much kissing, folks.And get this, we are all expecting daughters, merely weeks apart. Can you believe that? Bentleys with girls? Whatever will we do with them? More importantly, though, whatwon’twe do for them? And now I firmly believe pregnancy and the accompanying symptoms are contagious, because let me tell you, the last nine months have proved it true. When one girl gets a craving, they all get it. One a pain, all a pain. I think between the four of them, they’ve cried for nine months straight.
Of course, we have a running bet on who will go into labor first. There’s a hot tub on the line.
One night at family dinner while the girls were cooling off in the pool, us guys made the mistake of complaining, in the kindest way of course, about their wild hormones which led to this. “The gift of experiencing things you know nothing about.” Lennox’s words when we all opened identical boxes with watermelons and duct tape this morning.
Hence the watermelons that have been stuck to our stomachs the entire day. It’s been seven hours now, and yes, I’m eating my words. London is superwoman.
“Having fun boys?” Karli grins.
“Loads,” Trent mutters.
“My back hurts,” Michael groans. The second the words are out of his mouth, Juliet sprays him in the face with water.
That was one of the conditions. No complaining.
London walks over to me. She’s incredibly beautiful. The round belly only adds to her appeal. I’ve watched her accomplish so many things in life. Because of a few trending online videos, and her killer desserts, her bakery is booming. She’s doing so well I work part-time at the shop and part-time with her. Though, we don’t always get much work done. But what I most look forward to, is seeing her become a mother.
“Are you ready to give up?” she asks, perching on the edge of my chair with a grimace. I immediately press my hands to her hips, massaging her like I learned in our childbirth class.
“Never. These guys are wimps and will quit before me.” And I hope one of them quits soon because my feet are starting to swell.
“I could go for days,” Grant smiles, rubbing his watermelon.
“If you don’t start putting your socks in the laundry basket, you might have to,” Lennox says and Grant chuckles.
“Alright then,” Juliet says. “Here’s your last gift. Let’s see who wins.” She hands Michael a wrapped box. Throughout the day the girls have given us “gifts.” After the morning rush, they gave us cleaning supplies and we got to clean up after everyone, mainly Emmett who is a little tornado. It was harder than I thought it would be. I had to resort to picking stuff up with my toes and kicking it in the air. For lunch? Pickles and peanut butter, with a side of Cheetos. Safe to say I’ll never be eating those items again. They did let us take a nap at one point, which would have been nice if I could have gotten comfortable. But my personal favorite was the matching pairs of New Balance “dad shoes” that we had to put on ourselves and then go for a mile walk. Lots of honks and whistles with that one.
Michael opens the single package and pulls out four pink speedos.
Someone call it quits already.
“Careful boys,” Grandma cackles, “If you wear those, your babies will be born naked.”
“Grandma!” Lennox busts up, and then the rest of us join in. Everyone clutching their protruding bellies.
When the laughter has died down, Juliet explains the speedos. “It’s time for your workout. You must stay healthy while growing another human.”
“Think you can do it?” London asks, laying a tempting kiss on my cheek.
“Don’t you know me better than that yet? I will do anything to beat my brothers.” I turn and look at her. “And to show you how much I love you.”
“You’re going to be a great dad,” she whispers. I drop a kiss on her belly, then meet her lips.
“I just have to be better than them,” I tease.
She heaves herself off the chair and then holds out a hand to me. “Come on, in the pool you go.”
“Now, this is a look.” I chuckle ten minutes later when all four of us are standing by the pool wearing watermelons and speedos.
“Karli, put your phone away,” Trent says. “I can’t. I really can’t.” She’s laughing so hard she’s crying, but she’s crossing her legs, so she doesn’t pee. Something I’ve learned over the course of the day is it’s hard to control your bladder when there’s something constantly pushing on it.
Lennox drops an armful of towels onto a chair. “You have to run two laps around the yard. Then twenty burpees, followed by six laps in the pool.”
“Don’t throw up,” Mom calls down from the balcony where she, my grandma, my dad, and Emmett are enjoying the show with hot chocolate and popcorn. Earlier my dad said this was the best Christmas he can remember. I’ll be sure to gift him a watermelon next year.
“If you do, you’ll have to clean it,” Juliet says.
“There will be a surprise in the pool when you’re done,” Karli adds.
