“It has to happen,” Yasmin insisted. “The new baby is due at the end of the summer. If we don’t get Izzy weaned off of his pacifier before then, he’ll be stealing his little sister’s.”
Noah placed an affectionate hand on his wife’s round belly. “I’m glad we’re having a girl this time.”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” Yasmin said, smiling as she covered his hand with her own. “I don’t want any sibling rivalry between the kids. That means no binkie rivalry, either. The next time Izzy drops it, I’ll distract him and you swoop in and toss it. And when he asks where it is, we play dumb and say all gone.”
“All right.” He sighed, nodding toward their son, who had just dropped his binkie in favor of trying to grab one of the fluffy baby chicks scampering around his chubby legs. In Izzy’s other arm, Sampson the Sixth grumbled good-naturedly but didn’t attempt to free himself from the boy’s hold. “Looks like it’s go time.”
Yasmin nodded. “Go, fight, win.”
A second later, Yasmin had bustled across the petting zoo enclosure, her gauzy red maternity dress swirling around her legs. Noah was a few feet behind her, already tucking the binkie into his pocket and looking around for a trashcan, when he realized the flaw in their plan.
Sampson the Sixth didn’t care for his alpha’s mother at the best of times, but Yasmin dressed in red was an irresistible target. Before Noah could hurl himself in the path of danger, Sampson had flapped free of Izzy’s grip and hurled himself at Yasmin in a flurry of pumping wings and scrabbling claws.
Yasmin cried out and turned to run, the rooster hot on her heels, while Izzy scampered after them shouting, “No, bad roo! Bad! Leave mama ’lone!”
Noah, who was momentarily trapped behind a cluster of kids who had shifted out of the way when the feathers started flying, could only watch helplessly as Yasmin made a beeline across the town square toward the gazebo, followed closely by Sampson the Sixth, with Izzy trailing up the rear, waving a pudgy fist and shouting two-year-old abuse at his errant rooster.
All around them, the activity of the festival paused for a moment as people turned to watch the spectacle.
“She runs fast for a pregnant lady,” an old farmer standing near the baby duck enclosure observed.
“She’s in excellent health,” Li-Mei replied with pride in her voice before turning to Noah and shooing him with both hands. “Go on then, Noah. You know you like to be the hero. Go save the day and tell Izzy to hold Sampson tighter next time. He’s the alpha and that bird should know it.”
With a smile and a salute for his mother-in-law—whom he loved very much, even if she did have a poultry fetish—he turned and raced after his family, feeling ridiculously lucky for his wife, his life, and even that damned rooster.
After all, a Sampson was responsible for chasing Yasmin into his arms in the first place.
And for that, he would be eternally grateful.