The tape’s barely a few seconds in, heavy, loud, unmistakably not toddler-friendly.
and then there’s the soft patter of tiny feet.
Steve doesn’t even look up. “Hey, bug.”
Stella toddles into the room in her little sunflower onesie, hair all sleep-mussed, clutching one of her stuffed toys by the arm.
The opening riff of Master of Puppets kicks in.
And her entire face lights up. Tiny eyes brightening, her baby teeth peeping through her smile
Eddie buffers. “…No way.”
Stella does this tiny, wobbly bounce. Then another. Then she starts full-on toddler dancing, knees bending too much, arms doing their own thing, completely off-beat but so committed.
Steve smiles as he watches his toddler adorable attempt at dancing. “Yeah, she likes this one.”
“Likes” Eddie chokes. “She’s THREE.”
Immediately loses balance.
Recovers like a champion.
Eddie’s heart does something catastrophic in his chest.
She toddles closer, still dancing, grabs onto his jeans for balance, and keeps bouncing like he’s part of the routine now.
Tiny fist pumping to Metallica like she’s at a concert.
“Oh, that’s it,” he says softly, scooping her up without even thinking. “That’s it, you win. You win everything forever.”
Stella squeals, still trying to dance in his arms, head bopping wildly.
Steve leans against the counter, watching, smug. “Told you. Track three.”
Eddie presses a dramatic kiss to the top of Stella’s head, absolutely wrecked. “You’re perfect. Do you know that? You have impeccable taste. Way better than your dad’s.”
Stella just laughs, grabs a fistful of Eddie’s hair, and keeps bouncing to the music like she’s headlining a tour.
Eddie doesn’t even complain.
He’s too busy melting into a puddle on the floor.
THAT’S EDDIE’S BABY RIGHT THERE!!!!!!