“Feliks.”
“…No, the other one was better…”
“Feliks,” you try to gain his attention, but he’s too entertained.
“…Oh, I like this one. This colour is, like, much better…” he mumbles.
“Feliks!”
He looks up at you from your big tummy, “Hm?”
“You having fun?” you ask, smirking.
He sits up properly, clutching the big bag of baby clothes he purchased to his chest, “Aren’t you, ________? These outfits are, like, totally adorable!”
Your husband had been sat there for at least an hour laying each tiny outfit on your tummy as you flicked through the baby names book.
“I know they are, sweetie, but we have more important things to think about,” you say as you wave the book in front of Feliks’ face. You look down at the three little skirts he had in his fist and the bag full of female baby clothes, “Besides, we don’t even know if it’s a girl yet.”
“…I didn’t say it was a girl,” Feliks says.
“But you’ve got…” you let your voice trail off when you realised Feliks didn’t object to cross-dressing. How could you forget? Of course, you had no objections, especially when you thought it was cute when Feliks did it (you did agree to married him, after all), but you’d prefer it if people could tell your baby was a boy.
“You don’t like this colour? Hmm, maybe it would look better on me… Still, the baby might look, like, exactly like me, which would be fabulous,” he says, rifling through the bag of clothes with his free hand. You groan at the thought of your son being identical to Feliks, matching dresses and everything.
“Anyway, names?” you say. He takes the book from you, dropping the little skirts.
“Oh, ________, don’t you just, like, love the name (girls name you dislike)?!” he suddenly announces, putting both hands on your tummy. He leans close to you and then his face lights up as he feels the baby’s movement.
“…Really? W-well, it’s… cute,” you say, not impressed.
“I know, right?!” he says, overlooking what you really thought.
“But, how about we keep looking?” you ask, grinning at him.
“Oh, you don’t like it, piękna?”
“It’s not awful, exactly…”
“(Girls name you dislike)?”
You shake your head. “No, it’s too…”
“Ok, what about (Girls name you dislike)?”
“Feliks, it might be a boy,” you remind him again.
He frowns, “I know! You don’t have to, like, keep reminding me, kochanie.”
“What about (name you really like)?”
“…it’s cute, I guess.” He pauses for a moment before grinning, “Like, maybe Toris has some ideas!”
Feliks jumps up, kisses your cheek and then runs out of the room, fishing his phone out of his pocket. You giggle and lean back, rubbing your tummy gently. Feliks left the bag of clothes next to you, so you reach into it and pull out one of the little pink dresses and lay it on your tummy, smiling. It is very cute.
“Oh my god!” Feliks suddenly shouts a few moments later, making you jump, “________! Why didn’t you tell me how, like, totally adorable these maternity clothes were?!”
He comes back into the room wearing one of the pink t-shirts with a white kitten on it, comically baggy around his flat stomach, and a denim miniskirt with an elasticated waistband, his phone in his hand, “Don’t they just look fabulous?!”