46 | ☕ Baby Shower Olympics ☕ #4
Anya stared at the perfect burrito baby, then looked down at her own doll, who looked more like it had been rescued from a shipwreck.
"This isn't fair," she mumbled. "Mine came with trauma."
Kaia burst out laughing. "Nope. No excuses. Atlas wins again. Flawless bath routine."
Atlas gave Anya a victorious look and signed smugly, "Your baby is calling CPS."
"Oh, shut up," Anya muttered, failing to suppress her laughter. "I'll have you know I give memorable baths."
"Traumatic counts as memorable," Kaia quipped.
Anya looked down at the waterlogged, towel-wrapped doll in her arms. "You're fine, right?" she asked the baby, gently patting its head. "We'll call this a bonding experience."
Atlas gently rocked his pristine baby doll and signed, "Mine already fell asleep."
"Mine is emotionally unavailable," Anya retorted.
As the final challenge came to a close, and the tiny baby tub was emptied with a suspicious amount of bubbles on the floor, Kaia clapped her hands together with dramatic flair, her voice echoing with excitement.
"Alright, folks! That's it! The parenting gauntlet is officially complete! We've seen swaddling disasters, feeding fumbles, bath-time chaos—and now... it's time for the moment of truth."
Anya flopped back onto the couch, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and dramatic defeat. She still had a towel-draped baby doll tucked under her arm like a soggy football. "Finally. That baby just screamed at me for ten minutes straight. I think mine's emotionally traumatized."
Atlas stood nearby, calm as ever. His baby doll was pristine—clean, swaddled with precision, and nestled in a soft little towel cradle he had fashioned from a spare blanket.
He hadn't said a word, but the look on his face was telling: composed, mildly smug, and definitely hiding the tiniest hint of victory.
Kaia was practically bouncing with glee, hands clutched to her chest like she was about to hand out a reality TV trophy.
"Now, I have tallied up all the points in my head—which, let's be honest, mostly consisted of me mentally awarding them for not drowning the doll—and I am ready to declare our champion!"
Anya groaned, already slumping deeper into the couch. "Do we even have to pretend there was suspense?"
Kaia spun dramatically on her heel, then pointed both hands straight at Atlas with a theatrical flourish. "The Ultimate Champion of the Baby Trials... ATLAS!"
A chorus of mock cheers erupted from Kaia—complete with her waving an invisible flag. Anya clapped once, dry and sarcastic. "Wow. Big surprise. Mr. Baby Whisperer takes the crown."
Atlas simply blinked and lifted his hands, fingers moving with fluid grace as he signed, "It wasn't a competition. But thank you."
Kaia was not deterred. In fact, she looked even more pleased with herself. "Oh, but it was, Atlas. And for your unwavering calm under pressure, expert baby-calming tactics, and bath-time finesse, we have prepared something very special."
With a sparkle in her eye, Kaia reached behind the couch like a magician revealing the grand finale of her act.
From behind the cushions, she pulled out a necklace made entirely of pastel-coloured pacifiers.
There were glittery ones, translucent ones, glow-in-the-dark ones, even one that looked like it had a tiny moustache attached to it.
The whole thing jingled softly as she lifted it.
Anya gasped, her mouth falling open. "Oh my god. No. You did not."
Kaia held it up triumphantly, the pacifiers catching the overhead light like precious jewels. "Behold... the sacred necklace of ultimate parental wisdom."
Atlas stared at the pacifier necklace, unmoving. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
There was a long pause as the necklace dangled between Kaia's hands like a treasure from a cartoon.
Finally, he lifted one hand and signed slowly:"You're joking."
Kaia beamed. "I never joke about pacifier royalty."
Anya was already wheezing with laughter. "You have to wear it. You have to wear it, Atlas. This is your destiny."
With a resigned sigh through his nose, Atlas slowly extended his hand and accepted the necklace like a man being handed the weight of a thousand diaper changes. He held it up, letting it dangle from his fingers, inspecting the pacifiers like they were tiny alien artifacts.
Kaia stepped forward eagerly and, before he could escape, looped the necklace over his head. It settled against his chest, the pastel pacifiers bouncing lightly against his otherwise neutral, sleek black shirt.
He looked down at them.
Then back up at Kaia.
Then slowly turned toward Anya.
She absolutely lost it.
Her laughter erupted like a tidal wave, and she doubled over on the couch, gripping her stomach. "You look like a toddler warlord. Like... the king of tantrums and nap times!"
Kaia wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "The Pacifier King. Long may he reign."
Atlas stood silently in the centre of the room, his broad shoulders still and unmoving beneath the ridiculous necklace. His face remained stone-cold—expression unreadable—but the very subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. He was this close to smiling.