Part 11 (1/2)
Was he joking? ”You bought groceries. Didn't you and Hannah eat?”
”I made us TV dinners last night,” he said. ”But they weren't very filling.”
Angie took the baby from him. Kaitlyn immediately started crying. ”What's the matter, sweetheart?” Angie cooed.
”Let me take her,” Stan said wearily. As soon as he took the baby back, she quieted. ”She started this yesterday. I don't get it.” Stan dropped onto a chair, then slid down as if he didn't have the strength to sit upright. ”I can't get more than three hours' sleep at a stretch before the baby wakes up, hungry and crying. I had no idea babies were so much work! The days and nights run together. I'm almost as tired as Hannah. I even wished I could go to work, just to get away from all this. So...what do you have to eat?”
”Before you worry about food, the baby needs her diaper changed,” Angie said.
”I know.” Stan rubbed his nose. ”n.o.body ever told me babies were such smelly little creatures, either. I didn't want to wake up Hannah, though. I'll just keep her downwind while I eat. Want me to check out the fridge? See what's good in there?”
”You can't leave the baby that way,” Angie exclaimed. ”You'll need to change her.”
He looked stricken. ”Me? I've never changed a diaper in my life!”
”Go get one and I'll show you how to do it.” With all her sisters' children, she'd had lots of experience.
Knowing he'd get no peace until he complied, he ran back to his apartment. When he returned, Kaitlyn in one arm, a box of Pampers in the other, Angie sent him back for Desitin, baby powder, and baby wipes.
The deliveryman had pieces of the crib spread all over the living room.
”You've seen Hannah do this, haven't you?” Angie asked as she placed a bath towel on the kitchen table.
Stan shook his head. ”I've always left the room. There are some things I really don't want to get up close and personal over.”
Angie put her hands on her hips. ”I can't believe she didn't make you learn.”
”Maybe she's not bossy,” he murmured under his breath, laying the baby on the towel.
Her head snapped his way. ”What did you just say?”
”Maybe she's too fussy. I really don't want to do this, Angie.”
”Nonsense.” Angie pointed out the sticky tabs on the sides.
Using just his thumb and forefingers, he tried to lift off the Pampers tabs. They were stuck better than Krazy Glue. He pulled, tugged, and finally had to use all fingers and thumbs to grip them firmly and tear them open. Immediately he ran to the sink to wash his hands.
”Stan!” Angie shrieked. ”You can't walk away from a baby and leave her on a tabletop like that! Once she learns to roll over, she could kill herself!”
”I'm so sorry.” He darted back, his hands dripping. He wiped them on his sweats.h.i.+rt. Luckily, the newborn hadn't gone anywhere. Gingerly, he lifted off the diaper. ”Eeooouuuww!” he howled.
”Oh, for pity's sake!” Angie cried. ”It's just baby p.o.o.p.”
”It looks like mashed lima beans!”
”Stop moaning.” She handed him a baby wipe.
His mouth dropped. ”You don't expect me to...”
Angie nodded.
His eyes flitted from Angie to the baby, as if trying to decide which was scarier. He apparently decided it was Angie, because he did as she said, muttering his new favorite expression, ”Ee-yew,” the entire time.
She helped him slide the clean diaper under the baby and then, in a cloud of baby powder from his overzealous shaking of the can, she told him to fasten it with the tabs while she knotted the plastic bag with the dirty diaper.
”I did it,” Stan said. He lifted the baby.
The baby rose. The diaper slid right off her bent legs.
”What's wrong with it?” he cried. ”That never happened when Hannah put it on her.”
Angie lifted the diaper. The tabs were stuck to the very edges. It could have fit Baby King Kong. ”You've got to tighten it around her,” Angie said.
”I thought it came in her size!”
”Try again.”
”Uh-oh. Something feels warm.” He put the baby back on the table and looked at the front panel and sleeve of his s.h.i.+rt. They were wet. ”Oh, my G.o.d!” he shrieked.
”What is it?” Angie cried. ”Stan, what's wrong? Are you bleeding?”
”It's baby p.i.s.s.” He held his arms straight out.
Kaitlyn began crying. Stan almost did as well. ”Now you've upset her,” Angie scolded.
With finger and thumb, Stan plucked the wet parts of the s.h.i.+rt from his skin. ”I thought she liked me!”
”She's probably hungry, poor kid,” Angie murmured, then glared at him. ”And embarra.s.sed about her diaper. Go get her a bottle. Hurry!”
He ran back to his apartment. The crib was still in a thousand pieces. He needed Hannah.
Stan returned, panting, with a bottle of formula and wearing yesterday's s.h.i.+rt since it was still in the living room, albeit crumpled, and he didn't want to rummage through his closet or dresser while Hannah was trying to sleep. He might have to think about moving his clothes out of his bedroom.
As soon as he returned, Angie thrust the squalling baby into his arms. Kaitlyn immediately stopped crying once more.
”She just wants you,” Angie said, taking the bottle.
”I wish grown women found me half so desirable,” he murmured.
”I know what'll help.” Angie left the kitchen, soon to return with something that looked like a sling with straps. ”I bought this for Hannah, but I think you could use it.” She adjusted the straps wide. ”It's called a Snugli. Put it on your shoulders, hook it behind your back, and it'll hold the baby against your chest, but leave your arms free.”
Stan gaped in horror at the bizarre contraption. ”Angie, please tell me you're joking.”
At the same time, Rebecca Mayfield slowly cruised Fisherman's Wharf's Jefferson Street, avoiding jaywalking tourists and concentrating on her next action.
Her investigation of the death of Sherlock ”Sh.e.l.ly Farms” Farnsworth was going nowhere. She'd managed to account for most of his activities the day he was killed. A couple of people said he'd seemed distracted by something, but when they asked him what it was he refused to answer. They'd wondered if he wasn't looking into something that might become another case for his law firm.