@Tixxis Thank you for the lovely description of Macaria's history. I'm afraid you did more research than Mr. Gamboa and I did. I just Wikipedia-ed "Hades" and Macaria was listed as one of his children. I do like the name, though, and I think it suits her.
I apologize in advance for the groan-y title of this next chapter. I was just going to call it "Fatherhood," but then I typed it out and I couldn't help myself.
Chapter 6: Father HoodIn his haste to depart for the hospital, Mr. Gamboa had forgotten Patches' evening feeding. As a result, the conflict between Reese and the cowplant came to a head.
Fortunately, Reese was relatively unscathed, and actually much less angry. This was something of a relief, as she had taken to spending her nights repeatedly kicking over the trashcan and picking it back up again. It was nice for her to have some occupation, but Mr. Gamboa was afraid it would disturb the baby's sleep.
Mr. Gamboa arrived home from the hospital and carried Macaria up to her room. He was pleased to note that her lavender skin matched the décor perfectly.
Despite his initial misgivings, he found he took to breastfeeding quite naturally.
Macaria had been born just after midnight, so Mr. Gamboa had plenty of time to get her settled in before morning. He wouldn't even have to miss a day of work.
Macaria dropped off to sleep, and Mr. Gamboa went downstairs to explain to Patches that his name was now Cerberus. Mr. Gamboa's Simpedia research had turned up this name, which he felt was much more dignified and fitting for Death's pet.
Patches was unimpressed.
In the morning, Mr. Gamboa gave Macaria one last tickle, and headed off to work with a spring in his step. Fatherhood was turning out to be quite simple.
In truth, Macaria was an astonishingly easy baby. She seemed somehow to sense that her father required a little coddling, so she kept her demands few and her giggles plentiful. She saved her messier moments for daycare. Mr. Gamboa never changed a single diaper.
Mr. Gamboa arrived home from work on Macaria's birthday, fed Patches/Cerberus, and headed up to his daughter's bedroom. He paused one last time to consider the option of sending Macaria home to be raised by her mother. She babbled sweetly at him, eyes full of hope and potential, and he knew it was out of the question. He hadn't asked for fatherhood, and he was certainly an imperfect father. Much about the road ahead frankly terrified him, but wherever it led he knew they would walk it together.
Mr. Gamboa stood aside as his daughter leapt from her bassinet, an energetic and lively little girl.
They immediately became best friends, and then Macaria looked expectantly at her father and asked what was for dinner.
Mr. Gamboa eyed the stove and microwave, both completely blocked by a giant cowplant, then suggested that Macaria go outside and try out the new monkey bars while he did some rearranging.
To his credit, Mr. Gamboa only cut himself twice while preparing his first family dinner.
To Macaria's credit, she was very subtle about shunning her father's meal in favor of a bowl of yogurt.
Mr. Gamboa may not have been much of a cook, but he made an excellent space monster.
He was also a fine tutor.
Macaria completed her homework, and was sent to bed promptly at 9, while Mr. Gamboa set about doing the dishes and tending the garden. Though he had long ago completed his gardening aspiration, he was loathe to pull it all out. He still needed many of the plants for his doomed serums. Unfortunately, the weeding and watering took all night, leaving him no time to work on his rocket.
He woke Macaria at 6, and faced off against the stove again, making a valiant attempt at scrambled eggs. He was a Stoves and Grills Master, after all. That had to count for something.
In the end, his eggs were excellent, but too slow, and Macaria bolted down another bowl of yogurt before heading out for her first day at school.
Mr. Gamboa sighed. He gazed despondently from the pests buzzing about his Chrysanthemums to the dishes mouldering on the counter to his neglected rocket ship outside. “Sometimes,” he told the inventing robot when he got to work, “There's so much to do that I wish there were two of me.”
