ZIPPERS OVER SNAPS
CHAPTER 41
ZIPPERS OVER SNAPS
A few months had passed, bringing unmistakable changes to their daily lives. Christine’s belly had rounded noticeably, turning simple tasks—slipping on her shoes or climbing out of the car—into slow, deliberate movements. Along with the physical changes came unpredictable mood swings that had become part of their routine. Jeffrey met each one with quiet patience, warm tea, and gentle hugs.
One late afternoon, after the morning’s emotional storm had long passed, they headed to the mall for their weekly grocery run. Navigating the supermarket took longer than usual. Jeffrey kept close to Christine through the busy aisles, steering the cart while making sure she never reached for anything heavy. By the time they checked out, the cart was filled with groceries and household essentials.
As they walked toward the exit, they passed the entrance to the department store. Christine slowed. Warm pastel lighting spilled from the nursery department, where rows of tiny clothes, soft blankets, and miniature shoes were displayed beneath bright lights. She stopped without realizing it, one hand settling naturally over the curve of her belly.
Jeffrey noticed immediately. “Everything okay?” he asked softly.
Christine looked up at him, a quiet smile spreading across her face. “I think it’s time we started buying our little boy’s clothes.”
Jeffrey blinked. Then an almost disbelieving laugh escaped him. “Today?”
“Right now.” Her smile widened. “Christian Jefferson can’t live in hospital swaddles forever.”
Hearing his son’s name spoken aloud melted the last trace of hesitation. Jeffrey parked the grocery cart near the entrance before taking Christine’s hand. “Lead the way, Mrs. Reyes.”
⸻
The nursery department surrounded them with rows of tiny outfits in soft blues, greys, creams, and pale greens. What began as an exciting milestone quickly became an affectionate disagreement.
Jeffrey stopped at the first rack. “Oh, look at this.” He held up a bright yellow onesie with little lion ears sewn onto the hood. “And this tuxedo one.” He grinned. “What if we take him somewhere nice?”
Christine glanced at the growing collection already hanging over Jeffrey’s arm before reaching for a simple grey zip-up sleeper. “Jeff…” She smiled patiently. “He’s a newborn.” She held up the sleeper. “See this zipper? This is survival.” She tapped the lion outfit. “That one has ten snaps. Imagine doing those at three in the morning.”
Jeffrey examined it. “The ears are cute.”
“And?”
“…The snaps build character.”
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Christine laughed. “They build sleep deprivation.” She looked at the pile in his arm. “And why are you holding eight newborn onesies?”
“What if he spits up four times before breakfast?” Jeffrey answered without missing a beat. “What if there’s a diaper blowout while the laundry’s running?”
Christine folded her arms. “We don’t need eight.”
“We absolutely do.”
“We need four.”
“We need at least six.”
Her pregnancy hormones briefly got the better of her. “Jeffrey…” She sighed. “He’s going to outgrow these in two weeks.”
The slight edge in her voice was enough. Jeffrey quietly set several outfits back on the rack before taking her hand. “Okay.” His smile stayed gentle. “No more arguing over lion ears.”
Christine rubbed her forehead. “I’m not arguing.”
“You are.”
“I am.” She let out a reluctant laugh. “I just don’t want a closet full of clothes he’ll barely wear.”
Jeffrey squeezed her fingers. “Compromise.” He lifted one finger. “Six sleepers.” A second finger. “All with zippers.” Then he smiled. “Except one ridiculously cute outfit that I reserve the right to embarrass him with.”
Christine shook her head, laughing. “One.”
“Deal.”
⸻
The feeding aisle sparked another debate. Jeffrey immediately reached for two boxes of anti-colic glass bottles.
Christine quietly removed one from his hands. “Why eight?”
“Four for the kitchen.” He counted on his fingers. “Two upstairs. Two for the diaper bag.”
Christine smiled. “He only has one mouth.”
Jeffrey frowned thoughtfully. “That’s… technically true.”
“And we don’t even know if he’ll like this bottle.” She placed one box back on the shelf. “We’ll start with four.”
Jeffrey looked genuinely conflicted. “That means I’m washing bottles every few hours.”
Christine raised an eyebrow. “Character-building.”
He laughed. “I walked right into that.”
⸻
Peace returned in the baby socks section. Together they admired impossibly tiny cotton booties, holding them between their fingers in quiet amazement.
Jeffrey slipped one over his thumb. “Our son’s feet are going to be this small.”
Christine smiled, unable to look away. “I know.”
Neither of them spoke for several seconds. The reality of it settled gently between them.
⸻
Then they reached the crib display. Jeffrey immediately stopped in front of a solid oak convertible crib with built-in drawers and an attached changing station. He ran his hand across the polished wood. “Chris…” His voice carried quiet admiration. “This one.”
Christine followed his gaze before glancing at the price tag. Then she looked toward a much simpler white crib nearby. “It costs almost twice as much.”
“It also converts into a toddler bed.” Jeffrey pointed to the storage drawers. “And everything’s within arm’s reach.”
She folded her arms lightly over her belly. “We already have a dresser. We can buy a changing pad.”
Jeffrey stepped closer. His voice softened. “I’m not thinking about the furniture. I’m thinking about you.” He rested both hands gently at her waist. “When you come home from the hospital… you’re going to be exhausted.” He nodded toward the changing station. “I don’t want you bending over a dresser fifty times a day.” He brushed his thumb lightly across the side of her bump. “I want everything close enough that changing him won’t hurt your back.”
Christine opened her mouth to argue. Nothing came out. Because she realized he wasn’t trying to buy the nicest crib. He was trying to make her recovery easier. Her shoulders relaxed. A small smile appeared. “You fight unfair.”
Jeffrey blinked. “I do?”
“You always win when you make it about taking care of me.”
He smiled. “Is that a yes?”
She looked at the crib one more time before turning back to him. “It means… our son is getting the big crib.”
Jeffrey’s grin spread instantly. Without thinking, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Best investment I’ll ever make.”
Christine laughed softly. “I thought marrying me was your best investment.”
Jeffrey smiled without hesitation. “It was.” He rested his forehead briefly against hers. “This is the second best.”
Still smiling, they turned toward a sales associate to arrange delivery, already picturing the nursery that would soon become their little boy’s first home.