#dad!adler

It was a slight haphazard, your attempt, as the pants, which Adler had claimed were shorts, appeared to look much more like jorts on her little legs. A safety pin in from the first aid kit your husband kept in his car and a prayer were the only things keeping her pants from falling down.

Not to mention how sleeves of her khaki green shirt fell part her elbows, bunching up as she raised her hands in an effort to push your hands away from her face.

"Ah, ah," you said, shooing her hands away, brushing, now crusted, flakes of porridge from the corner of her mouth. "You got more food on you than in you."

To that, just like her father, a scowl formed on her little rosy cheeks. Her fighting persisted, once again, just like her father, and she exclaimed, "Mommy, I look silly!"

"Well you shoulda thought about that before fallin' in the mud, shouldn't ya, kiddo?" called out your husband.

His boots crunched against the dirt of the path, and he fixed the brown, cowboy-like hat on his head as he approached the pair of you.

The fuss she'd been making for the past five minutes had fallen on deaf ears, and you attempted to find humour in the fact that he'd only desired to rear his head when she was finally dressed. Your efforts of comedy were clearly lacklustre as you noticed how Adler's lips pursed when his eyes met with yours.

Of course, he was wearing his glasses - always; you were surprised he didn't sleep with the bastard things on - but you knew he was looking at you. You'd spent long enough with him, at the very least.

"Don't you have any smaller clothes for her, Addy?" you almost whined as you took a step back, standing beside him. His hand rested against your hip as the pair of your observed your daughter.

Had the fashion police been around, both of you would have been given life in prison, no chance of parole, for the sheer disgrace of the outfit your daughter was wearing.

There were flakes of drying mud on her knees from her tussle with a twig - in which the twig won, and she was left with a mouthful of dirt which quelled her sobbing tremendously well. The socks Adler had pulled out from the stash of spare clothes in the watchtower were practically tights on her.

The only thing that actually fit her were her boots, and they were caked in mud.

Adler sucked up a breath of air through pursed lips, free hand rubbing his mouth. You caught him doing so out of the corner of his eyes. He was fighting a bloody battle, trying to keep himself from laughing, and with each passing second, it seemed that the knife was slipping from his grasp.

"I look like a smelly boy!"

"Now, darling," chided your husband as he took a step towards her. The hat he'd just placed on his head was pulled off with a skilled hand as he settled it atop the head of your daughter. Planting his large hand over the top of it, he pushed it down. "Your daddy's helper for the day, and what doesn't a good ranger do?"

You watched the cogs turning in her head as she looked upwards, most likely trying to capture a glimpse of the blue sky. Only, the brim of the hat kept her from doing so, and so, she furrowed her brows and with fury asked, "Wear clothes that's too big for them?"

You barked out a laugh while the man pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away for a moment. "No," he said, clearing his throat. Crouching down in front of her, he brushed her hair from off her shoulder, "they make do with what they got. You don't think there haven't been times where daddy's needed somethin' but hasn't been able to get it?"

She opened her mouth to answer her, but Adler cut her off. "Don't you dare say clothes that fit you."

She closed her mouth in an instance.

"You look cute, kiddo," he said, raising from the ground with a huff. Holding his hand out to the side of him, he twitched his fingers. Your daughter understood immediately, little hand placed in his. Adler looked to you, "you sure you're gonna be alright here?"

"Of course," you said with a smile, arms crossed as you look at the pair of them. You disguised a laugh with a cough when the hat on your daughters head slipped down to cover her eyes. You hadn't noticed it at first, no, it had only been her whining that had you looking in her direction.

Adler plucked it from off her head, placing it back onto his own. "I'll be spending my morning trying to scrub the muck from her dungarees."

"I can't say I'm jealous," answered Adler, hand resting atop your daughters head, ruffling her hair, "c'mon kiddo, outghta head out before you have any more accidents, these cookies aren't gonna sell themselves."