“Who’s my perfect boy?” Olivia said as she smiled at Jonathan on the bed in front of her gurgling happily and kicking his legs and lifting his arms. “I think you are! Five weeks old and such a clever boy already, I think you have my intelligence…”
Jonathan was wearing dungarees that Samantha bought for him and little booties that made Olivia want to coo at him all the time.
“Hey, hey,” Her dad said knocking on the door and she smiled looking up at him expectantly. “What’s that?”
Olivia glanced at the bags on the floor and bit her lip guiltily. “I-I told you the other day, I don’t know if you were listening because you had been drinking whiskey at the time and it probably wasn’t the best time to tell you but –”
“Olivia!” he cried over her. “I think I remember it vaguely,”
“Well school
