An unexpected night in.

“... I've gotta, I've got a pocket full of sunshine-” Yazmin spun around a plant, retrieving her friend’s keys from the soil, The evening stretched ahead like a promise of loud music and the kind of laughter that made her ribs ache, “-I've gotta love and I know that it's all mine, oh –” She twirled the keys in her grip as she hopped up the porch steps, For a few hours, she wouldn't be a student buried in textbooks; she’d just be Yaz, Jessie’s partner in crime. The thought was a fizzy, golden thing in her chest as she skipped up the last step towards the door, “-Oh, uh, oh.”

The door swung open before the key touched the lock and Yazmin was unceremoniously yanked in. A child was deposited into her arms. It stared at her with wide eyes matching her startled expression. “Umm, Jessie?”

“Don't. Say. A. Word… just… hold him. His name is Leo. He might puke. It's usually carrots. It stains. God how it stains. Sorry.” Jess slides down the door, rag dolling as if the weight of the universe has crushed her. Yazmin reaches overhead to twist the lock. Yazmin’s eyes took in the scene in one snapshot: a Duplo city sprawled across the floor like the aftermath of an earthquake, a suspicious orange smear down the kitchen door, a single tiny trainer hanging from the lamp shade. The air smelled of wet wipes, despair, and rather burnt toast. “Okay. So, the plan. The beautiful, beautiful plan. Movies. Then the gig. The sold-out gig. The gig I have been talking about for seven months. The band that is, like, the soundtrack to my soul. Yaz. My soul!”

Jess gestures wildly around… then pauses. Listening intensely, her face morphs from frustration to shear panic. Yazmin bounces Leo as she listens to her friend spiral.

“Wait. Is that silence? Oh God, that's worse. Silence is a trap. Silence means someone is drawing on the wall with a permanent marker or eating cat food. Or both. Simultaneously. While also somehow unlocking the baby gate.”

Jess puts her head in her hands, slumping down to rest it on her knees.

“It started two hours ago. It was supposed to be a ‘smooth handoff’ mum said. ‘Dad will be 5 minutes’ she said. ‘They will be angels, you’ve got this!’ Lies. All lies. Eva- that's the two-year-old, the tiny terrorist- she immediately figured out how to take her own nappy off. A skill, might I add, she has never demonstrated before! She presented it to me like a trophy… then, she tried to put it on the cat.

Meanwhile, Callum- he's 3, he is the ‘easy one’- decided today was the day to have an existential crisis over the fact his toast was-,” she holds her fingers up, “- too square. TOO SQUARE, YAZ! TOO SQUARE. He wept. He wailed. He demanded a ‘circle toast’. How do you even make circle toast? You don't! It's a pint size propaganda campaign!”

Jesse's voice dropped to a ragged whisper. “Tonight was supposed to be mine. And instead, I'm here, covered in pureed carrot and existential despair. Callum asked me why the sky is blue. I gave him the Rayleigh scattering explanation- I looked it up last week! - and he just stared at me and said, ‘but does the sky feel sad when it rains?’ And I.. I… I didn't have an answer, Yaz. I didn't have an answer for toast being too square, all the sky’s emotional state, or why the cat won't wearing nappy. I'm doing a degree in marketing, none of this was in the syllabus.

And Leo…” She takes a deep breath; points a shaky finger at the giggling bundle in Yazmin’s arms happily chewing on her necklace. “Leo spent the entire afternoon perfecting a new skill: the shriek of infinite demand. Where the f-hell is dad! Not crying. Shrieking. Like a tiny, bald headed paradactyl who wants a banana now, but also hates bananas, but also will throw a fit if you take it away.

I tried everything. I sang the silly songs. I did the stupid voices. I built the Duplo tower of Babel. I have seen Coco melon. I have lived Coco melon. My brain is now melting out my ears into soft educational paste.

I was going to get ready. I was gonna do my hair. I had an outfit! It involved fishnets! That's still in the bag.” She scraped her nails against her scalp; Yasmin gently guides her hand away. “Instead, I’ve been negotiating with a tyrant about squareness of carbohydrates, cleaning up strategic carrot vomit, and finding a suspiciously warm, sticky lump behind the couch that I'm choosing to believe was just a very old mango.

So. Here we are,”

Jess splays her hands out and looks up at Yazmin, eyes wide and pleading with a hint of horror and surrender.

“Jess, breathe.”

Jess inhales, grasping for the air she previously forgotten she'd needed. Yazmin and Leo watching as she collects herself.

“You have Leo. You are now team Leo. Sorry. His nappy bag is… somewhere. Probably still in the car. Or the kitchen. Fuh… The kitchen that looks like a yoghurt bomb went off. I just… I need 10 minutes. 10 minutes to not be touched, or shrieked at, or asked why in a tone that suggests I'm personally responsible for the laws of physics.

I just need to… breathe. And maybe change my shirt. And possibly a small quiet cry in the bathroom.”

“Okay, this isn't what I signed up for,” Yazmin stated as she felt a flutter of pure panic- I'm not ready for this, I don't know how to do this- but it was snuffed out by the sight of her best friend, a woman who once face down at bounce at twice her size, of all of four foot 5, now folded into a pile on the floor. The gig, the fishnets, the night out… it all quietly reshuffled in her mind. Not cancelled. Just postponed. She slipped her heels off, “but…you go splash some water on your face and I'll corral the other two. Maybe call my brother. Did your dad get lost on the way to his own house? Don't worry. I'll fix what I can. Go breathe. You've done well. I'm proud of you.”

Yazmin watches Jess round the corner, then turns to Leo, “Okay, let's go round up the troublemakers.” She boops Leo on the nose and follows the suspicious giggles.