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Rocky Candy

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Dulce waited until both Sophie and Michelle were on the line before she said anything. She could hear Sophie’s labored breathing—no doubt lying down with a heating pad on her back—and Michelle munching on something that sounded suspiciously like pickles.

“Well,” Dulce said, trying and failing to suppress the grin in her voice, “he’s here.”

There was a beat of silence, then two overlapping screams.

“WHAT?!”

“Shut up! You had the baby?!”

Dulce laughed. “Yup. Rocky came screaming into the world at 4:12 a.m. yesterday. Seven pounds, eight ounces, with a full head of hair and a right hook that already gave Odd a black eye.”

Sophie gasped. “Rocky?! Wait—Rocky as in…”

Michelle caught on first. “Rocky Candy?! Like Rock Candy?!”

“It was Odd’s idea,” Dulce said, sounding half-proud, half-exhausted. “He said the kid punched the nurse during his first diaper change, so he needed a name with grit.”

“Oh my God,” Sophie groaned. “You named your child after a boxing pun and a sugar stick.”

“Exactly,” Dulce said. “He’s already sweet and violent. It fits.”

Michelle was howling. “I love it. I’m stealing that energy. My baby is going to be named something equally unhinged. Like… Taffy Fury.”

“Laffy Taffy if she giggles too much,” Sophie added.

Dulce sank deeper into the couch, cradling her phone against her shoulder. “We’re not raising children. We’re starting a dessert-themed fight club.”

Michelle snorted. “Coming soon: Cotton Brawl.”

Sophie wheezed. “Marshmallow Mayhem.”

They were still tossing out sugar-and-chaos combinations when Rocky stirred beside her, his tiny fists twitching like he was punching the air in his sleep. Dulce smiled and whispered, “That’s my little Rocky Candy.”