Everyone familiar still belongs to Janet. Mistakes are mine.
"Since you have the hometown advantage," Stephanie said to Julie, "I did a little research this morning so I wouldn't be picking up just any jelly doughnuts."
"She actually called it 'research' when she was in the process of stealing my laptop," I informed my daughter.
"Steph does take food seriously ... if nothing else."
"Hey! I resemble that remark."
My women laughed until Julie stopped mid-smile. "Why is Olive staring at me?"
I cut my eyes to the screen of the baby monitor on the dash, and did see my youngest staring with a purpose at my oldest.
"You guys heard her ... just a second ago, she was 'Ooing' and 'Ba-Baing' while trying to grab my face," Julie continued. "Now she's quiet and looking at me funny."
"Whatever you do, Julie," Steph advised, glancing into the backseat, "don't look directly into her eyes. She's trying to find your Achilles heel so she can wrap you around her finger faster."
I could hear the eyeroll from the front seat.
"Very funny, Steph."
"I'm not kidding. You know how the guys scramble to attention whenever you ask them something?"
"Yeah."
"Olive just looks at them for longer than a beat, waves an arm or two, and that starts a twenty-minute debate between them on what she could want and who should get it for her."
"That's handy," Julie answered.
"You'd think," I told her, "but it usually just causes a hallway-pileup as they try to decipher baby body language. Which is why they love when you visit. You can communicate with them so they know exactly how to spoil you."
"Those poor guys," Steph commented. "They really are screwed with trying to keep our kids happy."
"I am happy," Julie assured us.
Steph looked around at our surroundings as I parked. "You'll be even happier when you bite into a Sufganiyot."
"A what?" She was asked.
"They're Israeli jelly doughnuts. I have it on good authority that they're the best in Miami."
"Getting outside help is cheating," Julie accused.
"No, it's not. You're going to get pastelitos from your favorite place, in a city you've lived forever. I'm new here, so I'm going with the favorite place via online comments."
"Steph is going to let you win either way," I told Julie. "You don't have to worry about cheating or a defeat."
My daughter's ponytail shook with the vehemence of her denial, which quickly turned into a wince when Olivia stopped staring to get her little fingers hooked into it.
"I know Olive's a baby," Julie said, leaning over to kiss her sister's cheek to distract her so she could get her ponytail and the use of her head back, "but she's strong. Anyway ... back to the food. We're doing this fair and square. No giveaway titles."
"You are your dad through and through," Steph said, with obvious approval. "Okay, I'm all set to see who'll be crowned Queen of Bakery Pastries."
That turned out to be Julie anyway, once we hit the second bakery and Steph bit into one of the guava pastries made by an old Cuban couple that remind me of my abuela and abuelo.
"I am not saying my doughnuts suck by comparison. Instead, I'll just state that it's great that we get to live in a world where doughnuts and pastelitos can coexist peacefully," Steph said, not conceding exactly.
"Hah ... another one bites the dust," Julie bragged. "I got Tank and Bobby hooked on them when they came to Miami with Dad the last time."
"It's more like another one bites the pastry. These would have to be superior to get Tank to admit he eats something that's not eighty-percent protein," my wife said, licking some of the filling from her fingers in a way that's completely distracting to me. "Uh-uh, Olive, you can't have this yet. You're stuck with Mama-made milk, baby cereal, and squashed vegetables, until you get a few teeth."
She got up to kiss our baby, which caused a double-heel-kick to the front and back of my body as I stood by the wrought iron bistro table where Stephanie and Julie had been holding their 'competition' in the Cuban bakery's outdoor seating area.
"Mama is a big tease, isn't she?" I asked Olivia, lifting her up in front of me so I could speak directly to her while all four of her limbs stretched to maximum capacity, each making their own break for freedom in different directions.
I received a drooly smile for a response. Teeth will be appearing momentarily it seems, and with them ... the dreaded snacks Steph will never admit are safety concerns.
"Stop it," I was told. "No teasing me while smiling at her. Your baby is already completely in love with you and takes your side more times than not," Steph said, kissing Olive's damp and wrinkled fingers, which were still reaching for what's in her Mama's hand.
"I don't know, Babe," I said to her. "Today has already shown that Olive and Julie appear to favor you more than me."
Steph pressed her lips to mine for a quick kiss and then a baby-steal, once she finished her last bite of pastelito, leaving her hands and lips free again.
"You should be thanking your lucky stars that's not at all true," my wife told me.
I can't do that. I'm too busy thanking the stars for her.
