And for a while, everything was fine. Cleo showed Pudding each of her toys, babbling in that way that three year olds do. Pudding, ragdoll that he was, lay quietly in the sunshine and flicked his ears at appropriate intervals. The Hello Kitty clock on the wall ticked rhythmically and kept time to the symphony of the small child’s stories and the cat’s breathing. 

But as young children do, Cleo soon grew bored of her toys and began searching for something new to do. She wrapped both arms around Pudding’s belly and lifted, his feet lightly brushing the ground as she carried him down the hallway pressed against her chest with his front paws sticking up on either side of her face. Pudding was as patient as ever, his eyes half lidded as he was conveyed out of the playroom, down the hallway where Victor’s voice could be heard through the office door, and into the kitchen. 

Cleo dropped Pudding in his bed in the corner, where the cat immediately curled up into a cat flavored doughnut and began purring loudly. “Good kitty!” Cleo exclaimed, pat-patting the top of his head in her toddler-like way. “Kitty is hungry?” 

Pudding responded with a brrrt and an ear twitch, which obviously meant ‘why yes, I would certainly enjoy a snack! Why don’t you get on that, small human?’

And Cleo was perfectly happy to oblige. She began opening every cupboard that her chubby little hands could reach, emerging victorious with a bag of flour, a bag of sugar, a container of rice, and a box of chocolate chips. Obviously a combination of her favorite things and the packages she often watched her daddy cook with would create a perfect snack for the kitty, right? But these ingredients were quite dry, so she opened the refrigerator in search of more ingredients. Milk was always a hit, right? And daddy put eggs in most things that had flour in them, so those were definitely needed. Her eyes lingered on the bottle of apple juice and she considered for a moment if milk and juice were both required. They were both her favorite drinks, so onto the counter they went. 

Pudding was going to be thrilled with his snack. 

Next she needed something to put the ingredients in and something to mix them with, right? But the bowls were kept in the cupboards above the counter, far too high for little Cleo to reach. Not to worry, though. She was, like her parents, a clever bean. The toddler waddled over to the dining room table and, with a rather loud dragging sound, pulled one of the chairs over to the counter. Yes, this would work! She climbed up onto the chair and to the counter from there, where she could just reach the cabinets while standing on her tiptoes. 

Cleo grabbed the largest mixing bowl she could find and let it fall to the counter with a clang. She froze, staring up the hallway for a moment. When Victor did not appear, she smiled and went back to her task. The mixing spoons were in a ceramic container on the counter and grabbing one of those was easy since she was already up there. Yes, with this, she was prepared to make Pudding a very good snack indeed. 

“Some flour,” she murmured, her dark eyes narrowing as she carefully opened the bag and reached inside. A handful at a time she transferred the white powder into the bowl until she was satisfied with the amount. “Then some sugar!” The same process was repeated for the flour, sugar, and chocolate chips, which she pushed away in order to get the wet ingredients closer. 

She pulled an egg from the container and examined it closely. Tricky things, eggs. She knew that daddy didn’t put the crunchy white part in when he made food, but when she smacked it on the counter like he did…it simply smushed beneath her little hand. “Okay, not so hard,” she muttered as she grabbed another egg and tapped it on the counter. A small crack appeared and Cleo brought the egg up to her eyes to look at it with curiosity. She tapped it again and wedged her thumbs into the resulting hole. The two halves of the shell opened up and the insides fell into her bowl with minimal bits of shell going with them. “Look, Pudd! I cracka egg!” she exclaimed, tossing the shells toward the cat. They landed close enough for him to sniff them gingerly before licking a small bit of white which hadn’t made it into the bowl. 

Cleo took this as a sign that the kitty liked eggs, so she carefully added another and tossed the shells to Pudding. “Now milk and juice!” The small child sized up the large containers of liquid, unscrewed the lids, and picked up the milk first with both hands. Her feet slid around a little on some of the flour which had made it onto the counter and the milk jostled, spilling down her front but also into the bowl. “Good ‘nuff!” she exclaimed and switched to the apple juice, getting most of it into the bowl as she poured. 

Now that everything was in the bowl, it was time to mix! Cleo sat and put the spoon in the bowl, though her aim wasn’t too good and her bottom ended up in the puddle of milk. She didn’t really mind, though. “Kitty snack! Kitty snack!” she sang in a cheerful voice, flipping the spoon around in the bowl and somewhat combining the ingredients with it. Her eyebrows narrowed and the toddler grabbed the spoon with both hands, mixing more and more vigorously until the bowl began to spin with the thin batter inside. 

“Woah there, bowl!” Cleo called, letting go of the spoon and grabbing for the bowl. However, her exuberant mixing had moved the bowl closer and closer to the edge of the counter and, when she grabbed for it…her hand hit the edge of the bowl and sent it toppling down to the floor. 

As the metal bowl hit the kitchen floor, the contents splattered everywhere. The counter, the child, the floor, the cat…all covered in a slightly sticky, slimy muck. Cleo stared at it for a long second, tears beginning to fill her eyes as she watched her masterpiece drip and pool all over the kitchen. Her little lip began to quiver and a whimper came first…followed by a full-lung wail.

Cleo climbed down from the counter and slipped on the floor, landing with a thud and an even louder cry. Pudding, quite displeased by the volume of the small human and the sticky substance on his fur, left his bed and headed for his favorite spot for a bath: The back of the couch. Unfortunately for him, Cleo needed to apologize for ruining the kitty’s lunch. She chased him into the living room and climbed up onto the couch to give him a cuddle, still sobbing at the top of her lungs.

From the office, Victor frowned and glanced at the office door. He thought he heard a loud clang, but he was positive he heard a howling Cleo. “Just a moment. I need to check on my daughter,” he snapped, muting his microphone and exiting the office. 

He was met by an absolute battlefield. Little footprints led from the kitchen to the living room, across the couch, and to the sobbing child clinging to a desperate cat. The kitchen looked like a pancake batter bomb detonated, and eggshells crunched beneath his slippers. For a moment all he could do was stare in shock at the sheer volume of mess that Cleo had managed in a mere twenty minutes. He stood frozen until said messy child spotted him and ran over, releasing the cat to wrap her arms around his leg and wipe her face on his pants. 

“What…did…you…do?” he uttered, his voice horrified with a blunt edge. “Cleo Elaine Li! Didn’t daddy tell you to be a good girl and just play with Pudding? Look at this mess you’ve made!! You march your little self right into the bathroom and take off those filthy clothes. I’m going to go end my meeting and then it’s bath time, little lady.” 

“I’m fine,” the girl replied, though the suspicious look on Anna’s face informed her that the ever-intuitive Anna was not convinced by her lies. The pair silently stared at each other until the girl’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine, you’ve caught me. I’ve been feeling a little bit poorly lately. Might have developed a food allergy or something, but I’ll be alright.” 

Anna stepped into the office properly and closed the door, pulling a small box from behind her back. “I don’t think it’s a food allergy. I think you should take this.” She handed the girl the box and she paled when she examined it. 

“A pregnancy test?! No, no, absolutely not. There’s no way!” She shook her head and tried to give the box back. Anna stared at her with a face that said ‘no way, huh? I don’t believe that, the way you two cling to each other.’ Again the girl sighed and her arms drooped to her sides. “Okay, maybe there’s not no way, but we’re careful!” 

A soft chuckle escaped Anna’s lips and she took the girl’s hand, wrapping her fingers around the test. “Then there’s no harm finding out, right? If it’s negative, no harm no foul. Just rules out one thing that it could be.” The girl pouted, but without further argument she headed for the work restroom. 

Anna remained in the office scrolling through internet comments regarding their latest show. After nearly fifteen minutes had passed, she began to grow a little worried and went to check on her boss. Inside the restroom Anna found the girl leaning on the counter, pale as a ghost and staring at herself in the mirror. Beside her sat the pregnancy test…with the word PREGNANT illuminated on the screen. 

A strangled screech of excitement slipped from Anna’s throat and she flung her arms around her boss, pulling her into a tight hug. “Congratulations!! I’m so excited for you! You’re going to have the cutest baby ever!” 

The girl remained in a state of shellshock for a few moments before seemingly coming to and clamping her hand over Anna’s mouth. “Shhhh!! You’re going to alert the entire building! I am swearing you to secrecy, Anna! You are forbidden to tell anyone, especially Victor!” Anna laughed and nodded, pulling her fingers across her lips in a sign of promise. 

“I won’t. But you should definitely go home and get some rest. This is a big revelation! You need some time for it to sink in.” Anna began shooing the girl toward the door, but she shook her head and scooped the test into her pocket. 

“I can’t miss the shoot today. We’re already on a tight schedule. But when we’re done I’ll take a nap, okay?” This seemed to appease Anna and she nodded before wrapping the girl in another hug. She didn’t take her eyes off the girl until she had gathered her things and hurried out the door to the shoot. 

It was a long shoot. By the time the final scene had been filmed, the girl was completely exhausted. She had not eaten since breakfast (which hadn’t stayed in her stomach anyway) and her mind was still racing from the morning’s events. As the crew packed up, she made sure to check in with each one of them before turning to head out. Food was priority number one, and second…she needed a creative way to inform Victor of the news. Just telling him straight out wasn’t any fun, so she needed ideas. 

With this in mind, the girl hopped on the bus to the shopping center in the middle of Loveland City. A bowl of soup and some bread filled her stomach as gently as possible; as soon as she was finished it was time to search the shops. In and out of various establishments she wandered, her bright eyes scanning the shelves for anything that might give her a bit of inspiration. 

She was so involved in her mission that time completely lost all meaning. By the time she came back to reality and realized how late it was, the girl pulled her phone out to call Victor only to discover it was completely dead. “I better hurry home,” she murmured, clutching a small pile of boxes. “Victor is going to be freaking out…I should have been back hours ago.” 

And she was absolutely correct. Victor again checked his watch, the frown on his face growing deeper with every passing second. The shoot definitely should have been over by now, but there was no sign of his wife. He grumbled and called her phone, only for the call to go directly to voicemail. “How many times have I told her to make sure her phone is charged before leaving the office..” he grumbled, pulling on his coat and shoes. “I guess I’ll have to go find her.” 

Victor may or may not have exceeded the speed limit as he drove toward the shooting location, muttering under his breath. How many times was this going to happen? She seemed to have absolutely no regard for his feelings when she disappeared like this! His stomach knotted as he pulled up to a completely dark and empty building. Okay, obviously the shoot had ended…perhaps she got wrapped up in editing, then. Victor threw the car in reverse and backed back onto the main road, turning toward her office building. 

Again he was met with a dark and quiet building. The curses beneath his breath jumped over his breath and began to fill the car as he pulled his phone out and began dialing her coworkers. One by one they gave the same answer: she had planned to go home and take a nap after the shoot. At a loss, Victor began driving up and down the streets of the city hoping that their tendency to run across each other randomly would somehow magnetically draw him to her. Every moment made him angrier and more nervous until he ran out of streets and turned toward home. 

Back toward home, where the girl was hiding the packages around the house where Victor was unlikely to locate them and figure out what they had to do with each other. She was caught a little off guard that he wasn’t home, but figured he must have stayed late at the office. All the better for me. If he had noticed me disappearing again, I’d never hear the end of it after last time. A smile crossed her lips and she wandered into the kitchen to prepare herself and Victor a cup of tea. If he didn’t return home by the time it was done, she would call him and demand that he get his butt home. She had news for him, after all. 

There was no need to call, however. Just as the kettle began to whistle, the front door opened and closed with force. A smile spread across the girl’s face and she hurried into the living room to greet her husband. The frosty demeanor and stony face of Victor stopped her short of flinging herself into his arms; instead, she reached for his hand with a look of concern. “Welcome home, Victor. Rough day at work? I made some tea. You’re just in time for it!” 

Victor pulled his hand away and glared at the girl. “No, work was fine. But some senseless girl didn’t bother to charge her phone, didn’t bother to tell anyone where she was going, and forced me to go out searching for her. Again.” If words could freeze in the air, these would have been permanently etched in frost on the windows and walls of the home they shared. They settled in the girl’s soul and froze it solid, stealing away her breath and pulling her head down in shame. “Do you have no regard for anyone’s feelings aside from your own? Do you not understand how worried I get when you disappear like this?! Why didn’t it cross your mind to at least call me and tell me you would be late? Or send me a text? It takes five seconds!” 

A sudden surge of annoyance filled the girl’s heart and she scowled, raising her voice. “Do you think you’re my father or something?! I’m a grown adult who can make my own decisions. I was hungry after not eating all day, so I forgot to call. I’m sorry!” 

“So that’s it. I lost out to food yet again. Why am I not surprised? It seems like food is your real husband and I’m just the second string. You know what? I’m going to bed.” Victor flew past her and into the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him. The girl stared at the back of the door, her fists shaking with rage. His words echoed around and around in her mind, growing in intensity and fanning the flames until she punched one of the couch pillows and stomped off to the guest bedroom. They could talk about this in the morning when they had both calmed down…he hadn’t even given her a chance to give him the good news! 

By morning, the girl’s temper had cooled considerably. However, his accusation of food being her real husband still weighed hot on her heart. She rose from the bed still dressed in her (now wrinkled) work clothes from the day before and crept across the house toward the bedroom. As hurt as she was, she knew that the only way to resolve it was to talk things out with Victor. 

But the bedroom was empty. The ember of annoyance fanned back into a flame as she realized that Victor had left without even saying goodbye. Was this some sort of revenge for yesterday? The thought angered her further, but her anger was cut short by a sudden wave of nausea that sent her scampering to the bathroom. 

As she wiped her face and looked in the mirror, the girl had the sinking realization that Victor hadn’t just left for work without saying goodbye. He had left for a week-long business trip without so much as a kiss. And after giving her such a hard time yesterday, too! She stomped her foot and resolved that she was not going to speak to him until he contacted her first. Surely he was keeping his phone close by, waiting for her to call him upon discovering their empty bed. But she had no plans to give him the satisfaction. 

It seemed that he had the same idea. Day after day passed with no messages to or from their partner, leaving both Victor and the girl lower and lower each day. By the fourth day, anger had turned to despair. The girl had realized that she had definitely overreacted and pulled the first little box from its hiding place. If she mailed it to the hotel today, it should arrive just in time…

And so she did. The unassuming package arrived at Victor's hotel room door as he was packing his suitcase. His heart was heavy with guilt for the way he had stormed out on his wife, coupled with his inability to bring himself to call and apologize the entire week. He wasn't even angry that she hadn't called him, either; the level of guilt he felt convinced him that he didn't deserve for her to call him first anyway. The little package was a pleasant surprise and he scooped it up immediately, the corners of his lips trending upward for the first time in a week. He recognized his wife’s handwriting immediately and pulled open the box, expecting chocolates or some small knick knack.

But he found himself clutching only a square of light blue fabric and a note. “The first time I yelled at you” was all it said, leaving Victor slightly puzzled. What was the wife playing at? He couldn’t help but chuckle at her obvious attempt at some sort of game. Typical dummy…After the last week of fighting, however, he felt like he was obligated to play along as penance. He knew exactly where she meant…And so he boarded his plane, directed Goldman to take him to the office, and assured himself that the dummy was most likely waiting in his office with some sort of surprise. 

“Are you sure that you want to go directly to work, boss? You’ve been away for a full week, and your wife has been out of sorts the entire time. If you want to avoid a fight, you might want to go home before you lose yourself in work again.” Goldman glanced away from the road just long enough to look at Victor’s face, which had pulled into a frown. “Or…perhaps you’ve already been fighting and want to avoid the house? Which is an even worse idea.” 

“You’re feeling bold today, Goldman. Besides, it’s the middle of the day. She’ll be at work anyway,” was Victor’s only reply. He continued fidgeting with the small scrap of fabric, trying to figure out what it could possibly mean. The men fell silent for the rest of the drive, parting when Goldman dropped Victor off at the door and headed home to Vivian. Victor hurried up to his office and pushed the door open, fully expecting the girl to launch herself at him or present him with an assortment of unnecessary new belongings. However, he was only met with another small white box sitting on his desk. “You’re not making it that easy, huh?” he murmured, opening the box to find a scrap of pink fabric and another note. 

This one read “where we changed our minds.” Victor leaned back against the wall, staring at the paper as he considered what she might be going on about. Changed our minds about what? He scrunched up his eyebrows and allowed his thoughts to wander until they came to a conclusion. Did she mean Souvenir? It was worth a try. He slipped the piece of fabric into his pocket with the first and headed down to his car, pulled out of the parking lot, and drove the familiar road to the unassuming little restaurant. 

He was less surprised this time to see no sign of the girl and only another small, white box on one of the tables. This one contained a small figure of a kitten and another of a puppy along with another note. “You’ll figure it out if you think hard enough.” Victor sighed and assembled the ‘clues’ his wife had left, mind completely blank as to what in the world she was getting at. He dropped into one of the chairs and stared at the objects. Pink and blue fabric, a kitten and a puppy…was she wanting another pet? Absolutely not. Pudding was more than enough of a handful. They didn’t need another pet, much less a baby one. 

A baby one? Victor took a sharp breath and looked at the items again. Baby animals, baby colors…an impossible answer popped into his head and he jumped up so hard his knee smacked the table. Within seconds he was in the car and speeding toward the girl’s office building, heart pounding in his chest. It couldn’t be! It couldn’t be. 

The elevator had never seemed so slow, nor had her door seemed so far away as it did that day. Victor fairly sprinted down the empty hallway, only bothering to compose himself as he arrived at the office door. Willow and Minor greeted him with a smile and a wave, gesturing toward their boss’s office to indicate she was in. Victor walked past them at the top speed of a normal gait, only stopping at the door long enough to turn the handle so he wouldn’t smack into it. 

Anna and the girl looked up with surprise at the door suddenly opening without a knock. Victor’s wild eyes fell on his wife and both women began to grin. “I’ll just see myself out,” Anna said, slipping past Victor and closing the door behind her. “Good luck, you two!” 

As soon as they were in relative private, Victor pulled the items from his pocket and placed them on the girl’s desk. She looked at him proudly, expectantly, and in her eyes Victor saw the confirmation of his wildest solution. The girl didn’t even have to say a word; Victor collapsed to his knees and placed a hand on the girl’s belly. “You’re pregnant? How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

She nodded and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to her lips. “Yes, Victor. I am. I was going to tell you the day before you left, but…” Her voice trailed off, and Victor knew what she was silently saying. 

“But I didn’t give you a chance.” Victor stood and wrapped the girl in a tender embrace, feeling the corners of his eyes beginning to prickle and his nose tingle. “I’m sorry, my beloved. My reaction was completely out of line. And this entire week has been another blunder every moment my pride didn’t allow me to call you. I am the luckiest man alive that you didn’t pack up and leave while I was gone. I am so sorry.” 

The girl shook her head and wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck. “I’m sorry too. I know better than to scare you like that. I’m just such a dummy…a dummy who can’t check her phone battery or a clock, who couldn’t get over her pride either. But I love you more than anyone or anything in the world, including food. You are my first and only husband.” 

Victor could sense the pain in her voice as she brought his words back to his ears. Upon hearing them from another mouth, he realized exactly how harsh they had really been. “It was uncalled for for me to say that,” he murmured, his lips right next to her ear. “You’re my first and only wife as well. And the only one that I could love even half as much as you is the child that we have made together.” His hand again slid to his wife’s stomach, resting warmly against her. “I thought that I was as happy as I could ever be the day I married you, but today you’ve made me even happier. We have to go celebrate! I’ll take you out to eat anywhere you like. Anything you want. Just tell me.” 

“I want…to go home. I want to eat your food in our kitchen. We need to make up for an entire week of loneliness.” The girl looked up at Victor with those wide eyes and he couldn’t help sweeping her up in a passionate kiss. 

Nevertheless, Victor gestured to the chair across the desk. Little Vic strolled over and sat stiffly in the chair, looking for all intents and purposes like a glimpse into Victor's past. He couldn't help but chuckle at the image of himself sitting in front of him. "Go ahead, what did you need to discuss?" 

Little Vic hesitated for a long moment. Victor waited patiently until his son gathered his courage. "It's Mother's Day tomorrow, and I wanted to do something nice for Mom. I know what I want to do for her…but I don't know how." Victor nodded encouragingly, feeling somewhat less nervous about the whole thing. "I want to make Mom a pudding. She is so happy every time you make it and I want to make her happy too." 

A smile flashed across Victor's face and eyes and he nodded. "You're quite observant, Vic. I think that's a great idea. Why don't you and Cleo help me make one for her this afternoon while Mom is on the filming shoot?" 

Little Vic shook his head slightly, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "No dad, can you help me and Cleo make one for her instead?" 

The difference was so subtle, but such a Victor difference that he couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, I can help. We can go to the market when Mom leaves and pick up the ingredients. Food is always better when it's fresh. Now go finish the dishes so we'll have a clean kitchen to work in, yes?" 

The young boy nodded and exited the office, his shoulders just a little straighter and his gait just a little faster. Pride swelled in Victor's heart as he watched his son's back retreat. Little Vic was growing into a fine young man indeed. Suddenly Victor better understood the smile on his own father's face whenever he thought Victor wasn't looking. 

~

Ingredients littered the counters and little Cleo already had cream on her nose. Victor wiped her little face with a paper towel and scooted her chair over slightly to give himself more room at the stove. "Now you stir that until all the sugar is gone, okay?" Cleo nodded and returned to whipping the whisk around in the bowl of cream, causing little droplets to fly into the air. Victor gently grabbed her wrist and helped her stir in a more controlled manner. "But do it gently so it all stays in the bowl," he continued in a tender voice before letting go. Cleo maintained the more controlled motion, searching her father's eyes for signs of approval. He nodded and she grinned brightly. 

Meanwhile, Little Vic stood on the far side of the stove and stirred sugar in a saucepan. He frowned as he stirred and saw nothing happening. "Dad, are you sure we don't need to add anything else to this? It still just looks like sugar and nothing is happening." 

Victor glanced over and gestured for his son to carry on. “Son, sometimes we have to keep doing what we know is correct even when we don’t think we are seeing any progress. We just have to keep at it until we get the result we are looking for.” As he spoke, the boy kept stirring. Little by little, the crystals began to link together in small clumps. Little Vic watched in wonder as suddenly the sugar began melting rapidly. Victor smiled and patted his son’s shoulder. “See? Keep your eye on the target and keep pressing forward. That’s how you get what you want in this world.” 

“Like you did with mom?” Cleo piped in, waving her wooden spoon around and splashing sweet cream on the counter. Victor sighed, gesturing for her to put the spoon down. She flushed and did so, her little red cheeks causing Victor’s heart to burn. 

“Yes, like I did with mom.”

Both kids began to laugh while Victor helped each of them finish their portions of the dessert. He patiently explained each step to them and allowed them to feel like they were the chefs and he was the assistant. They pressed their little hands and faces against the oven door while the pudding cooked, eyes wide with excitement. “Dad, do you think mom is going to like our pudding?” Cleo asked, grabbing Victor’s hand and jumping slightly to encourage him to pick her up. He obliged, scooping her into his arms and holding her close to his chest. 

“Absolutely. Do you want to know why your mom loves pudding so much?” Both Little Vic and Cleo nodded fervently, staring into their dad’s eyes with eagerness. Victor pulled Little Vic into his arms as well and carried them both to the couch, collapsing into a pile of giggling littles. Once they had settled, Victor held one of them under each arm and held them close. “Your mom loves pudding so much because it reminds her that your dad loves her very much. It was the first thing I ever cooked for her, when I was about your age.” He gave Little Vic a squeeze and a smile. “Even though we didn’t see each other again for seventeen years, it was that pudding that she remembered. And so whenever I feel like your mom needs an extra dose of love, I make her a pudding. And whenever I am feeling bad, making your mom a pudding reminds me how much we love each other and suddenly nothing seems like more than I can handle.” 

The kids began to laugh, their young minds not yet able to comprehend the depth of their father’s words. To them, love was just a given. It was warm hugs, family time, and mom and dad always by their side. But Victor had no doubt that someday they would understand. Someday, they would find that person who made them whole when they felt they were merely a hole. Victor held them tight. “Your mom will love your pudding because she knows it means that you both love her very much. Now let’s go get it in the refrigerator so it will be ready when she gets home from work, hm?” Victor watched the two rush into the kitchen and smiled, every inch of him filled with warmth and light. This was worth every moment of those seventeen years. Worth every moment since he and the girl were reunited. Worth more than every dollar he had ever made. 

The sound of tiny feet pounding up and down metal bleachers and shrill blasts from coaches’ whistles formed the soundtrack of the day. Victor sat on a thin cushion with a squirming Cleo in his arms, trying his best to hold her still while her mother applied sunscreen to her already apple-y toddler cheeks. She burbled happily and reached out for her mother’s hands, grasping her fingers and shaking them vigorously. “Come on now, Lolo. You’ll end up like a lobster if we don’t get this sunscreen on you! You got your daddy’s fair skin.” 

“Don’t blame the tendency to sunburn on me,” Victor grumbled, gently pinning his daughter’s hands to her sides to allow easier access to her face. “You don’t exactly have the most tannable skin yourself. When is Little Vic’s team supposed to play, again? Are they running late?”

The girl glanced at the watch on her wrist as she finished rubbing the white lotion into the toddler’s skin. “About five more minutes. Looks like the current teams are just finishing up.” Sure enough, the baseball field was clearing out as the kids ran back to their dugouts to get treats from their coaches. Just outside the gates stood the next teams, and among the throng of children was the tall and spindly form of Victor’s eldest son. He stood with that same ramrod straight back and unapproachable expression that he had inherited from his father, though the other children did not seem to be intimidated by him in the least. In fact, they gathered around him and chatted animatedly with huge grins on their shining faces. 

Victor handed his daughter to his wife and straightened the too-small cap on his head, the one his son had so proudly handed him that morning and requested he wear to the game. Even on the largest setting it barely clung to Victor’s dark hair, but he wore it dutifully. “Ah, there they go,” he murmured as his son and his friends filed into the dugout and began rummaging through the helmets and bats in search of their favorites. 

Little Vic peered out through the chain link fencing, his cloudy eyes scanning the bleachers until they fell on the forms of his family. Those eyes lit up and he gave a small wave, smiling as he saw the cap on his father’s head. They waved back, the girl gently waving Cleo’s little arm as well. “Good luck!” she mouthed, blowing Little Vic a kiss. A soft blush spread over his cheeks and Little Vic looked around to see if any of his teammates had seen his mother being embarrassing. They all seemed engaged in their own tasks and he let out a small sigh before turning away. “Hopefully he has improved since the last game,” Victor drawled, picking up the camera at his side and snapping a few photos of his son. 

“He’s five, Victor. Give him a break! Besides, you had him practicing his pitching and batting for hours this week. How could he not have improved?” The girl placed a tender kiss on Victor’s cheek and rested her head on his shoulder, prompting him to wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her in closer. He returned her gesture with a kiss on the top of her head, his lips absorbing the warmth the sun had imparted to his wife’s hair. “Just don’t push him too hard, okay? I know you expect big things of him, but I have no doubts he will make you proud in his own way. He absolutely idolizes you.” 

A frown crossed Victor’s face and he shook his head. “He doesn’t have to do anything special to make me proud of him. He is my son! I will always be proud of anything he accomplishes.” 

The girl looked up at Victor’s face and smiled softly. “You should definitely tell him that, and tell him that often. If I’ve learned anything from you, it’s the importance of having the support of those you love who love you back.” Victor met her eyes, his own narrowed slightly in thought. He nodded and gave her a squeeze, his gaze returning back to the field. 

Little boys in red and white uniforms swarmed the field, with Little Vic taking center stage on the pitcher’s mound. The cold expression had returned to his face and the little boy at bat shifted around nervously. “Well, if nothing else that expression he inherited from you helps intimidate the other team,” the girl giggled, earning an eye roll and a sigh from her husband. “What? You know it’s true! That boy is your son through and through.” 

“Better that than a dummy like his mother,” Victor teased, giving her a squeeze. She feigned offense, leaning forward out of his arms for a moment before giggling and laying back again. “Oh, here we go.” Victor’s proud eyes settled on his son as he wound up his arm and released his first pitch, sending the ball sailing directly over the plate. The little batter swung hard in a total miss. “Yes! That’s my boy!” Victor shouted, causing his wife to giggle at his enthusiasm.

“I never thought I’d see the LFG CEO cheering loudly at a little league game,” she teased, shifting their daughter to Victor’s lap so she could settle against him more comfortably. He wrapped his free arm around little Cleo, who immediately grabbed his long fingers and began chewing on his knuckle. 

Victor shrugged and ruffled Cleo’s hair softly with his breath. “I never imagined my son would choose sports over books either, but here we are.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with a little boy doing little boy things. I’m sure he’ll be just as smart as his daddy someday too. For now, let’s just let him be a child. We already saved the world, after all. There’s no reason for him to grow up as fast as we had to.” 

A sigh escaped Victor’s lips and he nodded, the lighthearted atmosphere of the tournament dampened somewhat by the turn in the conversation. Victor held his little family close and continued to watch his son, the ghost of his past superimposed with the vision of the future held in the boy’s eyes. He ruminated over his wife’s words, realizing she was right. Perhaps…it would be alright to let Little Vic stay little as long as possible. After all, who knew how long the little league tournaments, warm bear hugs from tiny arms, and badly drawn crayon pictures proudly displayed on the fridge door would last? 

The game ended and Little Vic returned to his family’s side, cookie frosting on his face and a juice box in his hand. He wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck and grabbed his father’s hand with his own sticky fingers. “I’m sorry we didn’t win, Daddy…I did everything you taught me and we still only tied. I’ll do better next time!” 

Victor shifted Cleo to his wife’s lap and sat Little Vic on his knee, running his fingers through that familiar dark hair. “Son, I’m going to give you a bit of advice that took me a long, long time to learn. Some things just can’t be won alone. Sometimes you need someone to help you, or even an entire team of someones to help you reach your goals. Do you understand what I’m saying?” The little boy shifted on his father’s knee and shrugged, his little eyes focused intently on his father’s face. Victor chuckled and planted a kiss on Little Vic’s forehead. “That’s alright. I’m proud of you, son. Someday you’ll understand. Now, how about we go to Souvenir for lunch?” 

“Can we have pudding?!” Little Vic exclaimed, jumping down from Victor’s knee and looking up with hopeful eyes. Victor sighed that helpless little sigh and nodded, taking Cleo in his arms so his wife could stand more easily.