#getdowngivejoy

"No, you're joking?" 

Kneeling down to his daughter's height, he catches the globe from her tiny hands and examines it closely. How the snow floats around Santa, the Christmas tree and the tiny snowman. 

"It sure is Santa," Ben smiles at his daughter "we need to find mum and your brother, okay?" 

Emily nods her head and watches how her dad sets the snowglobe back on the shelf, amongst all others she enjoyed. Ben gets back on his feet and reaches for her hands, which wraps around his finger. 

Making their way out of the little corner store and out on the cold streets of London, Ben finds himself and his daughter in a mob of people.  

People desperately trying to find that one last, perfect gift for under the tree. People trying to get the last turkey from the store a few blocks down. People arguing. People yelling-- 

Oh the joys of Christmas. 

"C'mon, sweetheart." 

In a swift move, Ben raises Emily off the ground and holds her tight against his side. Her arms wrapping around his neck. 

"Where's mummy?"

"I don't know," ben mumbles, subtly pushing past the group of arguing women "but we'll find her." 

"We have too," Emily states as a matter of fact "we were going to bake cookies." 

"Yeah, did mum promise you that?" Ben asked curiously. 

Emily nods her head "with hot chocolate." 

It can't be hard to find you, right? A woman he came to love so dearly, walking around with his son, his carbon copy, sporting a seven month baby bump under a layer of clothes..not that difficult, if the streets weren't packed as if every store decides to give things away for free. 

Christmas with the jones..never the same. 

"Maybe Santa can give me the snow globe." 

"Maybe he will sweetheart." 

You push the stroller back and forth in the hopes to make your over emotional toddler sleepy and though he's dozed off minutes ago, you can't be too sure and stop it. 

Noah his rosy, chubby cheeks are squished as his head rests against the metal of the stroller. Quiffs of blonde peeking from under his red and blue, fireman Sam hat. Clutching onto a stuffed rabbit he'd gotten from his big sister. 

You rub over your still and seemingly never growing bump when little miss Jones causes a ruckus. Honestly, you're still surprised she hasn't broken any of your ribs or caused any internal bleeding, 

something you'd not had experienced yet, Emily and Noah were the easiest babies you'd seen among your friends, just like their dad, not only in looks but in manners but something tells you this little babe is going to be your carbon copy. 

Sitting down on the stone bench, your feet ache. A sigh leaving your lips when your son starts to shift in his stroller the second you stop moving it. 

Home, that's all you want at this moment. Gather your little family, walk home and heat up with some hot chocolate underneath the Christmas tree while watching a movie. Underneath a thick fluffy blanket preferably. 

Only if you didn't lose your husband in the madness called the great Christmas depression. Maybe it was a bad idea to do some Christmas shopping last minute after all. 

The cold England weather sends a shiver down your spine and you tuck the blanket further up Noah's body, carefully to not wake him up. 

The familiar sound of the voices belonging to those of your husband and daughter catches your attention. You stand up, looking around the bush streets and it takes a while before you spot the two blondies.

You wave in the hopes they see you and they do as Emily points into your direction. 

"It's a madhouse." Ben grumbles when he reaches you "lets head back home." 

"Gladly." You mumble back. 

The walk home isn't long. You've rarely left the block. You've walked this route a hundred times, ten minutes at last but with the ache in your feet and back, it made it look like hours but with Emily pushing the stroller, it gave Ben the opportunity to snake his arm around your back, helping you to find some sort of relief.

"This is the last kid, Jones." You complain "unless you're planning to carry them." 

"Don't think I'm able to be such an amazing human being," ben chuckles "I'm just a man." 

"This one better look like me." 

You watch Emily, carefully pushing the stroller with her little brother around. Nearly reaching the handles, even on her tiny toes but peeking around it to make sure to go straight. 

Both carbon copies of their daughter. 

"I'm sorry love, can't help it. My genes are stronger." 

"Mate, calm down." Ben laughs when he pulls his son hand away from the batch of cookie batter "when's the last time we fed you." 

You're seated at the breakfast bar, nursing a hot chocolate, like you imagined minutes ago.

Emily stands tall on her step, flour covering nearly every inch of her body, rolling batter into small balls, licking her fingers clean once in a while.

Noah on his knees on the kitchen counter, anything edible disappearing into his mouth whenever he can get his hands on it. 

Ben stands behind him, able to pull his son back whenever it's needed. Hand gripping the back of Noah's shirt. 

"Grandma says you get sick from eating it." Emily says, looking back from Ben to you and back "chickens will grow in your stomach because the eggs are raw." 

"Did she?" Ben raises his brow as he looks at his daughter, mouthing a 'What the hell?' In your direction 

"Is it true?" 

"No honey, grandma is crazy." You say "You can get sick from it, so don't eat too much." 

"Do you want some?" 

She holds out a ball of dough in your direction. A smile reaching her ears, showing off her pearly whites 

"No, the baby doesn't like it." You refuse but give her the same warm smile she's giving you. 

She turns back to her dad, holding out the same piece but when Ben refuses it too, she sets it in the tray in front of her, pushing it down with her hands. 

"I will make cookies for all of you!" Emily cheers "even for Santa!" 

"That's a good idea love," Ben smiles, "Maybe he'll get you that snow globe." 

"Yes!" 

The two of you share a smile but it falters fast when Noah gets a hold of the bag of chocolate chips, nearly stuffing his mouth with a hand full. 

"Mate, you need to calm down." Ben states "he's got that from you." 

"As if you didn't eat my last candy bar, Jones." 

"Go easy on your mum or you'll be the last one." 

You roll your eyes at Ben, his face close to your bump. The lights of the Christmas tree and the fairy lights illuminating the features on his face. 

With the two rascals all tucked in and sound asleep, it's just you, Ben and the little bean. A moment you'll forever cherish, a moment that rarely happened. 

"So, if you want a brother or sister-" 

"Ben, please," you chuckle "I don't want to think about another kid right now. She's not even born yet." 

Ben sits back up right and rests his feet on the coffee table, laying his arm on the couch behind you "What about a football team?" 

"I'll personally give you a vasectomy." 

"I'm joking." Ben throws his head back, nearly causing a whiplash as he lets out a laugh 

"I'm not tough." You smirk at him "I love you but I'm not going to care a football team, find yourself another wife if you have too." 

"I would never." 

Ben kisses your temple and places his hand back on your stomach and if on queue, the little bean kicks up against his hand. 

"Already a daddys princess." Ben jokes "three girls to fight for my attention." 

You raise your brows and fake a smile "Oh, I'll always fight for your attention." 

"These mood swings really getting to you this time, huh?" Ben chuckles "Where's the Christmas spirit?" 

You huff and lean back on the couch, throwing your legs in Ben's lap. Without thinking, Ben reaches for them, massaging away the ache in them. 

"We've to make sure we feed these kids," Ben says "look at our poor son." 

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