There is a rule in the Harrington household that Eddie is only allowed to take one (1) of his and Steve’s three daughters with him to Target. Eddie going to Target by himself is dangerous enough.
For example:
Steve: Why did you buy three bags of cat food?
Eddie: Because if you spent $15 on pet supplies you got a $5 gift card
Steve:
Steve: How is this good for us?
Eddie: It’s free money!
Steve: No – it’s literally not. It cost $15 worth of shit we have no use for.
Steve: And now Hazel’s gonna think we’re getting her a cat.
The thing is, Eddie breaks the one child per Target trip rule constantly, enough times that he and the girls have developed a whole system to sneak their inevitable cache of Target junk into the house so Steve doesn’t find out. The system involves using their youngest, Hazel, as a pawn, which Steve wouldn’t be a fan of, but…it’s Hazel. It works.
“Hi Papa,” she says, setting the carton of eggs that had warranted a trip to Target on the counter.
“Hey,” he replies, looking up from where he was tying his running shoes, “Thanks for getting the eggs.”
“Are you going on a run?” Hazel asks nonchalantly.
“Yep. I’ll be back in a couple hours though, and then we can make those brownies.”
Once he leaves, Hazel returns to the garage where Eddie, Moe, and Robbie are still in hiding.
Hazel: He’s gone.
Eddie: Okay, you know the drill.
Eddie: Pop doesn’t hear a word about this.
Eddie: No fashion shows, no hauls. If he asks, you’ve had this shit your entire lives.
Eddie: Got it?
At the end of the month, Steve is going over all their card statements like he always does when he sees the charge.
Steve: Ed – Jesus Christ.
Steve: What the fuck could you possibly have spent five hundred dollars on at Target?
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This is based off something that happens nearly every day in my place of work.
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“Steve!” Heather hissed from her corner desk. “H.D. is out there!”
Steve stood up from his stool quickly, nearly sending it toppling to the ground. He raced around the tables in the room, settling near Heather’s desk and looking out the window. Robin had followed his steps, looking out from behind him.
“What in hell are you two on about?” She asked.
“Hot Dad.” Steve pointed out the window, at the man he and Heather has christened Hot Dad last year.
The preschool parents always grouped up outside the secondary entrance near the end of the day, waiting from their little ones to come out from the lower level preschool classrooms. And there, every single day, was Hot Dad, picking up his littlest girl, waiting for the older two from the main elementary.
Robin sighed, slinking back to her desk. The Special Ed classroom had an excellent view of the parking lot, and meant Heather and Steve had ample opportunity to stare at Hot Dad.
Today, was an especially good day. He was wearing shorts.
As in, short short
The gray athletic material was riding up on his thick thighs, a pink sparkly backpack slung over one shoulder, his hand in his daughter’s.
His three girls were nearly the spitting image of him, long, curly blond hair. Giant blue eyes that always crinkled up with chubby-cheeked smiles.
Steve had only interacted with him a handful of times, when he had opened up the car door to let the kids out of the back during the morning drop-off rush. He always said hello to Hot Dad, wishing him a good day as Hot Dad called to his girls, telling them he loves them.
“Why is it kinda extra hot that he’s a girl dad?” Steve said to a Heather, staring intently at H.D.
“I don’t know, but I get what you mean. And I mean, three girls is a lot for one man.” She sighed. “Do you think he reads them bedtime stories?”
“Oh, definitely. And I bet he does voices for all the little characters.”
“And he probably plays whatever they want.”
“Yeah, and I bet he’s all about making sure they’re tough. I’ll bet he wrestles around with them and wants to teach them how to fix cars and shit.”
Steve and Heather sighed, embarrassingly, at the same moment.
“Jesus, you two,” Robin chimed in. “Can you two go somewhere else to be this gross about a father at our school?”
“Nope! Not when it’s Hot Dad. Listen, you know I don’t want kids of my own, but a for Hot Dad, I’ll be a step mom. For sure.” Heather grinned at Robins wrenching sound. “I mean, they won’t have to call me Mom, but the youngest is only four, so it may be natural to her!”
Steve cackled, gently pushing Heather.
Steve returned to his desk, trying to ge Hot Dad out of his mind. He really needed to focus, and finish these accommodation letters to send out to the teachers, and he needed to-
“Hargrove.”
“What?” Steve turned to Robin. She turned her laptop around, one of Hot Dad’s precious daughters on the screen.
“His name is Hargrove. Billy, I’m assuming.” She turned the screen back towards herself. “And, he’s the only person listed as a parent for all three girls. They’re emergency contacts are listed as Father, Aunt, and Grandmother. Nothing maternal to speak of.”
Steve’s eyes lit up.
“What do you think are the chances he’s in to men? Because like, I’m not a classroom teacher. I don’t even have any of his kids in the program, so it wouldn’t be weird.”
Robin rolled her eyes at him, returning to whatever she was typing on her computer before the HD distraction.
“Yeah, because that would be weird. Yelling about how hot he is in front of an open window, that’s normal. But teaching his kids? Too far.”
Steve stuck his tongue out at her.
And then her words settled in.
“The window’s open?”
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