After giving birth, Dorothea listened to her grandmother and took two full months off to recover. She barely had to lift a finger the whole time. Latham and the nanny took turns taking care of the twins, although it was mostly the nanny doing the real work. Still, Latham followed her around, eager to learn everything he could.
One day, the nanny looked at Dorothea, half-joking and half-envious. “Dorothea, I’ve worked for so many families, and I’ve never seen a dad dote on his kids as much as Latham. Most fathers barely get involved at all.”
She liked to chat and share gossip while helping out, and Dorothea would just smile and say, “Yeah, he’s great.”
For the first three days after she came out of the delivery room, Latham would sit and stare at her belly, tears in his eyes. He always tried to hide it, thinking she didn’t notice. It was hard to imagine a guy like Latham getting emotional over her giving birth, but there he was.
One day, Dorothea called out, “Latham, Shipley’s crying.”
He was already busy rocking their daughter, and she had to remind him not to forget their son. Latham pouted. “That little guy is such a rebel. He cries every day. Not tough at all.”
Dorothea rolled her eyes, unable to hold back anymore. “As if you never cried when you were two months old.”
Latham noticed she was annoyed and scrambled to make up for it. “Come on, don’t be mad.”
He scooped up Shipley and pulled a face at him. “See what you’ve done? Daddy got scolded because of you.”
Shipley answered by spitting up his milk right into Latham’s eye. Quick payback, just like his dad.
It wasn’t until the babies turned one that Dorothea finally wrapped up her long maternity leave and went back to work at the company. With plenty of managers at Latham’s company, he only dropped by three days a week and spent the other days at home with the kids.
Once, during an interview, a reporter said, “Latham, everyone’s calling you a stay-at-home dad these days. How do you feel about that?”
He shrugged off the teasing. “I can be a loving dad and still make more money than you guys. Maybe work a little harder. Don’t worry about beating me, just try to match my toenail first.”
The male reporter’s face turned purple with embarrassment, but he didn’t dare talk back.
Back home though, Latham was totally different. He came in whining, head nuzzled into Dorothea’s neck. “Babe, people were picking on me outside.”
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