should've probably just moved on from them, but i can't stop, you guys >_<.
When Gabe and Riley re-entered the apartment, Gabe holding Riley’s folded up stroller in one hand with Riley clutching the other as he toddled in beside his Papi, it become very clear very quickly that the whole ‘You guys go to the park, I’ll get the bed sorted’ idea hadn’t exactly gone to plan.
William was sat in the middle of the living room space with the sofa pushed to the one side. The cardboard box the bed had arrived in was lying on it’s side against the wall, and the assortment of additional cardboard and polystyrene packaging was scattered among the different parts of the bed William was - in theory - putting together, using the different pegs and screws which were arranged in different little piles on the free space of carpet to William’s left.
“Uh - oh!” Riley sing-songed before giggling as he pulled his little hand away from his Papi’s grasp and Gabe just let him go as he looked around himself, barely even trying to keep himself from smirking.
“So, uh. It’s not going too well,” Gabe said, coughing afterwards in an obvious attempt to hide the laughter that was trying to bubble its way up from Gabe’s chest.
“Big mess!” Riley yelled happily, putting both arms in the air like some kind of celebration before he quickly dropped them again, frowning door at the floor as he seemed to think about it for a few seconds. “Fail,” the two year old told William solemnly, huffing out a sigh.
William just glared up at Gabe.
“I told you to stop teaching him to talk like the internet,” he reminded Gabe firmly, raising an eyebrow. It was a long enough process for Riley to pick up different words and learn how to put them together without Gabe using the phrase ‘I can haz…?’ around him enough that Riley had started to use it as well. Luckily it had only taken a little while of them both emphasising the correct wording and rewarding Riley whenever he even got close to saying ‘Can I…’ for their son drop the bad habit.
Gabe lifted his hands in a ‘not my fault’ gesture, before replying; “I stopped! It’s not my fault that one stuck.”
William was sat in the middle of the living room space with the sofa pushed to the one side. The cardboard box the bed had arrived in was lying on it’s side against the wall, and the assortment of additional cardboard and polystyrene packaging was scattered among the different parts of the bed William was - in theory - putting together, using the different pegs and screws which were arranged in different little piles on the free space of carpet to William’s left.
“Uh - oh!” Riley sing-songed before giggling as he pulled his little hand away from his Papi’s grasp and Gabe just let him go as he looked around himself, barely even trying to keep himself from smirking.
“So, uh. It’s not going too well,” Gabe said, coughing afterwards in an obvious attempt to hide the laughter that was trying to bubble its way up from Gabe’s chest.
“Big mess!” Riley yelled happily, putting both arms in the air like some kind of celebration before he quickly dropped them again, frowning door at the floor as he seemed to think about it for a few seconds. “Fail,” the two year old told William solemnly, huffing out a sigh.
William just glared up at Gabe.
“I told you to stop teaching him to talk like the internet,” he reminded Gabe firmly, raising an eyebrow. It was a long enough process for Riley to pick up different words and learn how to put them together without Gabe using the phrase ‘I can haz…?’ around him enough that Riley had started to use it as well. Luckily it had only taken a little while of them both emphasising the correct wording and rewarding Riley whenever he even got close to saying ‘Can I…’ for their son drop the bad habit.
Gabe lifted his hands in a ‘not my fault’ gesture, before replying; “I stopped! It’s not my fault that one stuck.”