Baby Lessons

the sweetest smile Madison had ever seen. “Dada. Dadadadada.”
Beside Madison, Jack’s breath hitched, and it was suddenly too much for her to take. She wanted to throw her arms around him and join in the celebration. She wanted to capture the moment, snap a picture and paste it into a baby book with pink satin trim. She wanted to tell Jack that he was the very best father these two precious girls could ever want.
She didn’t do any of those things, obviously. She couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been right, because this was a family moment, and Madison wasn’t family. She was only the reporter who’d faked her way into a part-time night nanny job to further her career. To top it all off, her boss now wanted her to purposefully write something over-the-top ridiculous to court her worst critic.
So while Jack tended to his daughters, she slipped quietly out of the bathroom to let them have their moment and did her best to remind herself who—and what—she really was.

Chapter Nine
Dear Editor,
Are my eyes deceiving me, or is the subject of Queen Bee’s latest column really How to Bedazzle a Diaper?
I didn’t want to write this letter. I really didn’t, but out of concern for the safety and well-being of the children in our community, I feel compelled to point out the obvious: bedazzling a diaper is dangerous. The “charms, rhinestones and glitter” that Queen Bee seems to think will make a disposable diaper “more aesthetically pleasing” are, in fact, choking hazards.
Also, disposable diapers are made of synthetic materials that are completely inappropriate for use with a hot glue gun. Honestly, this latest attempt at journalism is so egregious that I’m officially calling on you, the editor, to print a retraction clearly pointing out the dangers involved with diaper bedazzling—which I’m pretty sure isn’t an actual thing.
Sincerely,
Fired Up in Lovestruck
Dear Editor,
While I’m disappointed to read that Fired Up in Lovestruck didn’t appreciate the whimsical nature of my most recent column, I can’t say I’m surprised.
Perhaps Fired Up missed the following note, which was included in fine print at the end of “How to Bedazzle a Diaper”?
Note: Queen Bee recommends bedazzling a diaper for special occasion photo shoots only—birthdays, #babymilestones, #selfiesaturday and the like. Not appropriate for everyday wear or use without close supervision.
Might I suggest a name change for Fired Up? I think Uptight in Lovestruck is still available.
Sincerely,
Queen Bee
Editor’s Note:
The Lovestruck Bee does not condone or endorse gluing or in any way affixing small decorative items to disposable diapers. Not even for #babymilestones Instagram posts.
Dear Editor,
Thank you for your recent statement on diaper bedazzling.
Now...
Who’s going to tell Queen Bee that babies, by their very nature, are incapable of participating in #sefliesaturday?
Sincerely,
Fired Up in Lovestruck
Madison sat at her desk, sipping her maple latte and feeling as if she was wrapped in a heavy blanket of cinnamon, sugar and shame.
Her ludicrous column about diaper bedazzling had worked. Mission accomplished—Fired Up in Lovestruck had taken the bait, and Mr. Grant was practically walking around the office on air. She should be thrilled, probably. But she couldn’t help feeling like the biggest hack in the universe.
Obviously, she didn’t think infants should be crawling around with rhinestones glued to their backsides. Honestly, she’d meant the whole thing more as satire than an actual craft project, hence her disclosure at the end of the article. If any of her readers actually managed to hot glue something onto a Pamper without melting it, she figured they would snap a cute photo and then toss the thing straight into the nearest trash can.
Mr. Grant had printed her endnote in the tiniest font imaginable, though. In her original draft, she’d typed the footnote in bold. No wonder Fired Up had gotten himself more fired up than ever. She didn’t blame him one bit.
How long was she supposed to keep this up? She wasn’t sure she could keep intentionally writing nonsense. It felt wrong on multiple levels. She was proud of the more helpful columns she’d penned lately. After a recent story on bedtime rituals for babies, she’d even gotten a few nice letters from parents, which she’d tacked to the wall of her cubicle. They’d made her almost as happy as a trip to the Vogue closet.
And now all that good writing had been shot down by a glue gun and a handful of glitter.
What would Jack think if he knew about this?
She stared forlornly into her coffee. Jack Cole had nothing whatsoever to do with her career, so she wasn’t sure why she’d all of a sudden begun to worry about his opinion.
His opinion mattered, though. It mattered more than it should, which terrified Madison. She cared too much about what he thought. She cared too much about him, period.
They’d nearly kissed two nights ago, and she’d hardly been able to concentrate on anything else since then. Other than diaper bedazzling, of course. She was distracted beyond reason. Case in point: she didn’t notice Mr. Grant had come out of his office carrying a bullhorn until his gruff roar boomed throughout the room like it was the voice of God.
“Gather round, hive. I have important information.” He waved everyone toward the center of the room and stood with his arms crossed, waiting for the worker bees to obey.
Madison glanced around, wondering whether this was a normal occurrence or something out of the ordinary. She’d yet to set eyes—or ears—on the bullhorn during her tenure at the Bee. Frankly, it seemed like overkill. They were a small-town paper with less than twenty total employees.
“It’s got to be good news,” Nancy, the food columnist, whispered as she shot Madison a grin. “He usually only pulls that thing out at the holiday party when he’s about to distribute the Christmas bonuses.”
Intriguing.
Madison joined her colleagues in the middle of the bullpen, standing on the fringe of the group until Mr. Grant called her forward.
“Madison, get up here. We’ve got you to thank for this.” He smoothed down his dreadful brown tie.