The alarm buzzed quietly on my phone just a soft vibration under my pillow. I blinked blearily at the screen, barely making out the time: 6:32 AM.
I groaned softly.
“Turn it off, babe,” Chris mumbled beside me, voice low and gravelly, thick with sleep. His arm found its way around my waist, pulling me in.
“I have to,” I whispered. “It’s the big day.”
His eyes fluttered open, barely. “The cupcakes?”
I nodded.
He rolled onto his back with a sigh, rubbing his face. “Remind me again why we’re waking up at this hour to give three toddlers sugar.”
I grinned, slipping out of bed and tugging on his worn Red Sox hoodie. “Because they’re only little once. And they’ve been counting down for a week.”
Chris sat up, his hair an adorable mess. “Yeah, Teo asked me yesterday if he could have a dinosaur made of cake.”
“You told him no, right?”
“I said maybe,” he muttered sheepishly.
“Oh God,” I laughed, padding barefoot down the hallway.
The kitchen was dimly lit by the soft under-cabinet lights, and I opened the fridge slowly, as if being quiet would somehow stop the kids from sensing movement and springing to life like tiny goblins. Three cupcakes sat on the middle shelf vanilla with pastel sprinkles and single flickering candles already stuck in. I carried them carefully to Chris, who was now waiting in the hallway with his phone poised to film, barefoot in grey sweatpants and a sleepy smile.
“You ready?” I asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
We tiptoed to the nursery the one room in the house that had never known peace after 6 AM. But this morning, it was still. Quiet. I could just make out the rise and fall of three tiny chests in their little beds, lined up side by side like an adorable toddler military operation.
Chris nudged the door open slowly with his foot, and I mouthed, “You start.”
He began softly, voice low and warm.
“ Happy birthday to you… ”
I joined in quietly.
“ Happy birthday to you… ”
Teo stirred first his wild curls sticking up in every direction as his sleepy eyes opened.
“ Happy birthday dear Giselle, Teo, and Louis… ”
Giselle’s eyes snapped open at the word birthday. Her little nose wrinkled, and she sat bolt upright.
“ Happy birthday to you… ”
Chris held the cupcakes aloft like some magical offering. The tiny flames flickered in the dark room, casting a golden glow over their sleepy faces.
“Is that cake?” Giselle asked, voice husky with sleep but suspiciously alert. She was her father’s daughter sharp, even at dawn.
Teo blinked, rubbing his eyes. “Is it my birfday?”
“It is,” I whispered, setting the tray on the toy chest near the beds. “You’re all three today.”
“Louis is still asleep,” Chris whispered, crouching near the bed.
Our smallest triplet was still sprawled out like a starfish in his dinosaur pyjamas, mouth open, soft snores filling the room. Nothing could wake that boy.
“Shall we let him sleep?” I asked.
“More cake for me,” Giselle said, already crawling toward the cupcakes.
Chris scooped her up easily, settling her on his hip. “Not until Louis wakes up. We blow the candles together, remember?”
Teo was climbing out of bed too, dragging his blanket with him like a cloak. “I want the one wif the blue sprinkles.”
“You picked that one yesterday,” I said, ruffling his curls.
Chris gently patted Louis’s tummy. “Hey, Louie Bear… it’s your birthday, buddy.”
Louis groaned, turned his face into the pillow, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “No thank you.”
Giselle leaned over and poked his cheek. “Louis. Cake.”
Chris chuckled. “That might do it.”
It didn’t.
Eventually, I sat beside him on the bed and gently scratched his back the way he liked.
His little brows furrowed, and he peeked one eye open. “I was dreamin’,” he mumbled.
“About what, sweetheart?”
He yawned. “Penguins.”
“Well, the penguins will still be there later. Right now, there’s cupcakes.”
That finally did the trick.
Within a minute, all three were gathered at the toy chest, each staring at their candle like it held the secrets of the universe. Teo reached for his.
“Wait, wait,” Chris said quickly, raising his phone again. “Alright guys. On the count of three, blow out your candles.”
“Make a wish!” I added.
“Can I wish for cake?” Giselle asked.
“Sure,” I smiled.
“Alright,” Chris said, “One… two… three go!”
The candles went out Teo’s first, Giselle’s a second later, and Louis’s after an extra determined puff that nearly sent his hair flying back.
“Nice job,” Chris grinned, then turned the camera on me. “Mummy made these.”
“Thanks, Mummy,” Teo said, grabbing his.
“Love you, Mummy,” Louis added sleepily, mouth full of frosting already.
Giselle just grinned, cheeks stuffed.
I looked at them frosting-covered faces, pyjamas askew, and hearts full. The room smelled like vanilla and baby shampoo and birthday magic.
Chris wrapped an arm around my shoulders and kissed the side of my head.
“Three years,” he murmured.
“Can you believe it?”
He smiled down at them. “Not for a second. Feels like yesterday you were waking me up at 4 AM swearing something felt different.”
I laughed. “I was right.”
“You were always right,” he said, squeezing me.
The rest of the day was a blur of balloons, dinosaur hats, chaotic FaceTime calls with grandparents, and wrapping paper explosions. We had a bouncy castle in the garden, a full table of snacks, and enough sugar to power a small city.
Chris was an absolute softie. He wore a birthday crown that Giselle insisted on. Teo made him crawl on all fours pretending to be a T-Rex. Louis only wanted to sit on his lap and eat cheese puffs.
By late afternoon, I found Chris in the kitchen, cutting up fruit like a man on a mission.
“You’re doing snacks now?” I asked.
He gave me a look. “We have three toddlers. If we don’t balance the cupcakes with strawberries, we’ll pay for it at 2 AM.”
I leaned against the bench. “You’re really good at this, you know.”
He glanced at me, smile soft. “At cutting fruit?”
“At being a dad.”
His eyes lingered on mine. “You make it easy. I mean that.”
I reached out, lacing my fingers through his. “We make a good team.”
“Even when Louis peed on me mid-nappy change?”
“Especially then.”
We shared a quiet laugh, and he leaned in, pressing a slow, sweet kiss to my lips. Just for a second, it was silent. Just us. No shrieks, no juice spills, no flying building blocks.
Then
“MUUUUMMMM!”
Chris winced. “Giselle?”
“Sounded like it.”
We both moved, practically in sync, laughing as we went.
That night, after the party, after the mess, after three baths and six bedtime stories and Teo’s very specific question about whether dinosaurs had mums who tucked them in, we collapsed into bed.
Chris pulled me close, arms around my waist, chin on my shoulder.
“I don’t want them to get any older,” he said.
“Same.”
“But I also want to see who they become.”
“Also same.”
He kissed my shoulder. “Happy third birthday to our tiny gang.”
I smiled sleepily. “We should make this a tradition. Cupcakes in the morning.”
“Next year, I’ll bake them.”
I turned to look at him. “You’d bake?”
He nodded, grinning. “I might even use frosting and sprinkles.”
“Well then,” I yawned, snuggling in, “I’ll let you wake up first.”
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George Barbier, Manteau de Soir en velours frappe Garni de Soir brochee d'argent (Evening coat in striking velvet Trimmed with silver brooch), Costumes Parisiens, Le Journal des dames et des mode, 1914
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I'm going to skip the name part, because I am paralyzed by indecision so these asks will rot in my inbox indefinitely otherwise 😅
My chihuahua would be my tiny little baby dog that I would take with me literally everywhere. I would be that guy that unzips his backpack when you meet them for lunch to reveal an unauthorized Chihuahua in your local iHop. We would play around in sports, probably primarily agility and nosework. I might even compete, fueled solely by spite and Tiny Dogs Are Dogs Advocacy.
The amount of things I would buy that dog simply because tiny things are adorable... oh how my wallet would suffer. It would be ridiculous. I would probably go all out and set aside Tiny Dog Only spaces in every room out of fear of the chi being trampled by the collection of dogs I will have when no longer nerfed by rental restrictions. Only for the dog to never actually use it because it would live in my lap.
