Drying his hands off, Tate glanced over his shoulder at his small son laying on his bed in just his diaper, his bath towel underneath him. A lotion bottle sat next to him, his skin glistening. Grimacing, Tate lifted his hands to his nose and sniffed gingerly. Grimacing, he dropped his hands, the lavender scent overwhelming. He had definitely put too much on his son, but what was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to pop him back in the tub again.
“Are you okay, buddy?” Tate asked, walking over to his son and taking the towel, trying to sponge the excess lotion off his skin.
Instead of replying, Griffin rubbed his eyes sleepily and yawned. That was understandable. Tate felt the same way. They had all had a long night.
Grabbing a pair of clean pajamas, he quickly dressed Griffin before
