#some more daddy victor because i know ya'll love him

[thedummysdummy]

When Dummies are Pregnant

“What are you doing up there? Get off that ladder!” 

Victor’s sharp voice echoed into the unfurnished room, bouncing from the bare walls and floor into a rumble which startled the girl and caused her to lose her balance. Her arms windmilled and the ladder rocked as a squeak escaped the girl’s lips. Victor rushed forward and grabbed the ladder, steadying it with one hand and his wife with the other. “Get down. Now.” 

The girl scowled and descended the three metal steps to plant her feet on the floor directly in front of Victor. His arms were crossed tightly against his chest and his face had pulled deeply into a frown. The girl stood as tall as possible and mocked his body language and expression, hoping Victor would crack a smile. 

However, he merely grabbed her arm and dragged the girl back to the living room. Once she was safely seated on the couch, Victor fussed with her hair and ran his hands up and down her arms, checking her pulse and breathing rate. “Did you hurt anything? Is your back alright? You didn’t hit your belly, did you?” 

“Victor, I was perfectly fine until you snuck in behind me and yelled at me! I’m perfectly capable of helping to hang the pictures and lights, you know. Being pregnant doesn’t make me turn into porcelain.” The girl pouted and crossed her arms, resting them atop her belly bump. Victor placed his warm hand atop her belly and the corners of his lips turned just so slightly upward. “You need to stop worrying so much.” 

Victor’s lip twitched and he shook his head. “No, you need to stop worrying me so much! We are getting so close now. You don’t want to hurt the baby because you’re being careless, do you? You have me here to do all the dangerous things. Your job is to relax, eat enough, sleep enough, and bring our little boy into the world safely. Not to climb ladders! Or use the saw, or breathe the paint fumes, or lift the furniture.” 

“I just want to help with the nursery…I’m not going to hurt him.” She gently rubbed her belly and turned her eyes upward to meet Victor’s. The fear and annoyance in his eyes melted slightly as she maintained the solid eye contact. 

A sigh finally slipped from Victor’s lips and he retracted his hand. He straightened his spine and turned toward the kitchen. “I’m going to go make lunch. I want you to rest and get your blood pressure back under control. And before you ask, no. I’m not making pudding. You need nutritious food if Little Vic is going to grow properly.” 

He disappeared into the kitchen and the girl shook her head fondly. Such a worry wart…the pregnancy was going perfectly, easily even. But that didn’t stop Victor from being, well, Victor. She settled more comfortably into the pillows and closed her eyes. Fatigue settled over her as it did every afternoon for the last few months. 

Her muscles relaxed and her hand rested idly over her stomach where Little Vic was sticking out his little feet. She pushed back against them and he kicked harder, extending her belly enough that she was able to gently grab his foot. The little one seemed to panic, pulling his foot free as his mother giggled. 

Victor returned with a bowl of soup and an elaborate sandwich, tilting his head curiously. “What’s so funny?” he asked as he set the food down on the coffee table. He joined his wife on the couch and again placed his hand on her belly, his favorite pastime lately. Little Vic immediately began kicking his father’s hand as if he were displeased by his space being invaded. Victor chuckled and kissed the girl on the cheek. “He’s an opinionated one, isn’t he?” 

“You would know,” the girl teased, resting her head on Victor’s shoulder. “There’s a reason he’s named after his daddy.” She shifted to reach for her food, which Victor picked up from the table. He spooned the soup into her mouth a little at a time, his eyes filled to the brim with tenderness. “You don’t have to feed me, you know. I still know how to feed myself.” 

“Maybe I just want to,” Victor huffed, mimicking the girl’s usual childish pout. He scooped another spoonful of soup and brought it to the girl’s lips. 

She giggled and accepted it with an indulgent smile. “I suppose that’s acceptable.” 

~

Victor arrived home from work much later than he had expected. The meetings had run long and exhaustion hung heavily from his shoulders. He slipped his coat from his back and hung it while pulling his feet from his shoes. The room was dark aside from the lamp on the table next to the couch, which his wife had left on for him. Its soft glow gave him enough light to navigate the room without stubbing any toes or running into any furniture. He nimbly made his way through the living room toward the bedroom, one thought on his mind. 

The bedroom was completely dark; only the vaguest black outlines of the bed and other furniture could be seen. Victor crossed the room by muscle memory alone and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shirt and tie. He hung them on the desk chair and settled himself into his pillow, ankles casually crossed and one arm behind his head. He let out a long sigh and reached over to the other side of the bed to brush his fingers down his wife’s cheek. 

Only…she wasn’t there. The smallest jolt of panic twinged in the pit of Victor’s stomach and he leapt up, his unbuttoned pants slipping down as he stood. He simply stepped out of them and hurried back into the living room to check the couch. She wasn’t on the couch or in the arm chair, which only caused the seed of worry to sprout. 

Intuition led him to check the nursery next. He softly opened the door to the room which had been painted a soft yellow with ducks and carousel horses on every surface. The white crib and changing table nestled along the far wall, while a plush couch and recliner rested on either side. 

Settled comfortably across the couch was his beloved wife. She had changed into her pajamas and wandered into the nursery, and fallen asleep with a teddy bear under one arm and her phone in the opposite hand. 

A tender smile crossed Victor’s features and his eyes crinkled just a little in the corners. “Dummy,” he whispered, his feet shuffling silently through the long, soft carpet. He pressed his lips to her forehead and swept away her bangs. “Let’s get you to a proper bed.” 

Victor slid his arms beneath his sleeping wife and lifted her easily, cradling her against his chest. He returned to the bedroom and tucked her in, sealing it with another kiss. 

~

“You would think that I would have taught you well enough that your cravings would at least be something palatable,” Victor complained as he held the car door open for his wife and helped her into the seat. “Are you sure that you want grocery store sushi and milk tea from the convenience store vending machine? I can make much better sushi and milk tea.” The girl shook her head and buckled the seatbelt, carefully positioning it to be the safest for her distended belly. “No, I want a particular roll and that specific brand of milk tea. Yours are delicious, my husband, but…” Her pleading eyes met Victor’s and he let out yet another sigh. Not that she hadn’t already won. They were in the car, after all. 

Victor climbed into his own seat and started the car, immediately taking the girl’s hand in his own as they began rolling down the street. “Only a week or so, now,” he murmured, shifting both of their hands to rest on his wife’s belly. They received a solid kick in response, which brought a chuckle to Victor’s lips. “I think he’s getting eager to get out of there.” 

“And I’m eager to get him out of there,” the girl replied, wincing as the little one kicked her ribs and punched her bladder simultaneously. “I feel like a beached whale! There’s no comfortable position to sleep in, I can barely walk, and the braxton hicks are happening more and more frequently.” As if to prove her point, a ripple of pain shot through the girl and she tensed up, slightly crushing Victor’s fingers. 

A pained expression flashed across Victor’s face, though if it reflected his feelings about his crushed fingers or his miserable wife was impossible to tell. They pulled into the parking lot which held the required stores and Victor withdrew his hand. “You wait here. I’ll get the sushi and tea.” The girl began to make a fuss about going with him, but a look and a reminder of her complaints only moments ago convinced her to remain in her seat. As she watched Victor’s back retreating into the darkness, a wave of fondness washed over her. Despite all of his whining and moaning, Victor really did give her everything her heart desired. She almost felt overwhelmed by the intensity of the love she could feel from his quick pace and intent gait. 

Victor returned only minutes later with the requested snacks. He balanced them in one hand while using the other to open the door. As soon as it was open, he handed them to the girl and slid into his seat. She accepted them gratefully and reached out to grab Victor’s collar. He made no move to resist as she pulled him close and locked her lips around his. “Thank you, my love,” she whispered as they finally parted. “You’re the best husband I could have ever asked for.” 

“Well, dummies are pretty easily satisfied,” Victor replied, though a slight tinge of rose colored his cheeks as he put the car in reverse and exited the parking stall. “And what’s the saying? ‘Happy wife, happy life’?” 

The girl giggled and popped open her milk tea, sighing contentedly as she took the first sip. “I prefer ‘happy spouse, happy house.’ I want you to be happy, too.” She brought the can to Victor’s lips to give him a taste before taking his hand back and closing her eyes and smiling. Victor gave her fingers a squeeze. 

This dummy is pretty easily satisfied too, Victor mused. All I need is your smile.

[thedummysdummy]

#2

“You’ve barely touched your food.” 

Victor turned his eyes up from his meal and they lingered on his wife, who was pushing the mashed potatoes around her plate. She shrugged and scooped a small amount, bringing it to her lips before putting down the spoon. “Are you not feeling well? Why don’t you go lie down? I’ll take care of Little Vic.” 

“Yeah, I’m feeling a bit nauseous,” she admitted. Her stomach lurched as if to prove the point and the girl sprinted toward the bathroom, leaving her husband and son with concerned looks on their faces. Victor stood and pushed his chair under the table to follow her, his steps akin to a run as he crossed the dining room. 

The girl knelt on the bathroom floor, wiping her lip and shivering slightly. Victor hurried to her side and placed his hand on her back. He rubbed it in small circles until her form stopped quivering beneath his touch. “Are you finished?” he asked in a soft voice rimmed with concern. She started to nod only to lurch forward as another wave hit her out of nowhere. Victor pulled her hair away from her face and continued to caress her back comfortingly until she dropped back onto her feet. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured as she again wiped her lip and looked up at Victor with watery eyes. “I must have eaten something sketchy for lunch…” A tear ran down her cheek and Victor scooped her up into his strong arms. 

Victor carried his wife into the bedroom and tucked her into bed. “I’ll get you some ginger and peppermint tea. You get some rest, you hear me? No phone and no distractions.” His warm lips pressed lightly against her forehead, noting only the slightest bit of a fever. She closed her eyes and nodded as he left the room. 

He was met at the bedroom door by a 3 year old completely coated in mashed potatoes. “What did you do?” Victor snapped, pursing his lips as he ran his eyes up and down his completely filthy son. “Now you need a bath, dummy. Come on, go take off your clothes and put them in the hamper. I’ll run your bath after I get mommy’s tea.” 

“Does mommy have a tummy ache?” Little Vic frowned and tilted his head, the expression so like his mother that Victor couldn’t help but place his hand on the little one’s hair with a nod. Little Vic sighed and turned toward his bedroom. “Poor mommy,” he muttered as he disappeared down the hall. 

Victor hurried to fill the kettle and place it on the stove to heat so that he could head off any mashed potato painting that might occur. He found his son completely naked and exiting his room with his favorite plush in his arms. “Where are you going with that, sir? You need a bath.” 

The naked three year old dodged his father’s hand and ran across the living room toward the master bedroom. His shiba’s feet dragged on the floor as he ran yelling, “Mommy! Mommy, Shee-ba will make you feel better!” He pulled his dirty self up onto the bed and presented the plush to his mother, who smiled and accepted the offering. Victor approached his son silently and snatched up the squirming little boy from behind. 

“Get down from there! You’ll cover the bed in mashed potatoes!” 

Little Vic giggled as his father pinned his arms to his sides and carried him out of the bedroom toward his bathroom. Victor set him down and looked at the boy sternly. The tea kettle began to whistle and Victor sighed. “You wait here while I bring your mom her tea. Don’t. Touch. Anything.” He hurried from the bathroom to the kitchen, poured the steaming water over the diffuser of loose leaf tea, and brought the cup and saucer to his wife. The girl was curled up on her side with the shiba plush in her arms, her brow creased. 

A little sigh slipped from Victor’s lips and he placed the tea on the side table. He gently massaged the girl’s brow until they loosened up and took her hand. “The tea is on your table. Give it a few minutes and drink up, okay? I need to go wash the filthy child and put him to bed, but if you begin to feel worse, just call for me.” The girl nodded slightly and Victor again tenderly brushed his lips to her forehead. “I’ll be back soon.” 

The bathroom was suspiciously quiet as Victor approached. His eyes narrowed and he opened the door, fully expecting that the child had loosed all hell while being left alone. He was not incorrect; Little Vic stood in the tub with his hands covered in pink shampoo, which he was using to paint pictures on the white wall of the shower/tub combo. “The tub needed to be cleaned anyway, I suppose,” Victor sighed, picking up the child again and placing him on the bath mat. 

He turned on the water and placed one hand in the stream to test the temperature, his other hand holding Little Vic’s arm firmly. The water rushed cheerfully into the tub and Victor hoisted his son in to join it. The little boy smiled and flopped onto his belly, kicking his feet and waving his arms as if attempting swim practice. Water droplets flew everywhere and soaked Victor’s front, bringing a sigh to his lips. “That’s enough of that, little dummy. You’re making an even bigger mess!” 

“I’m three,” Little Vic replied, crossing his arms obstinately across his tiny chest. “Making messes is my job!” 

A snort escaped Victor’s nose and he rolled the boy over, turning off the water and beginning to run his fingers through Little Vic’s hair to loosen the potato-based hair product. “Your job is to learn how to be a presentable human being. Now hold still so I can get you washed up.” The little boy giggled, but allowed himself to be scrubbed and rinsed. Before too long, he stood wrapped in a fluffy towel with a hood and panda ears. His little cheeks were rosy from the hot water and his little bare toes sunk into the fluffy mat. 

Victor scooped up the adorable little bundle and carried him to the nursery. His strong arms were gentle and little Vic leaned his damp head against his father’s chest. “Daddy?” he asked, tilting his head upwards to make eye contact with Victor. Victor made a soft questioning sound in response. “Is mommy all better yet?” 

“Not yet,” Victor replied with a chuckle. “Things don’t always happen instantly, son. You’ll learn that as you grow up, I’m sure. Now, let’s get you dressed and tucked in for the night, hm?” He placed his son on the carpet next to the dresser and pulled out a pair of panda footie pajamas. Little Vic extracted himself from the towel and stepped into the pajamas, a little yawn escaping his lips. 

Once the zipper was zipped, Little Vic climbed into his toddler bed and Victor pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Good night, young man. Get lots of sleep so you’ll grow strong and tall.” He kissed his son’s cheek and the boy grabbed his dad’s face, pulling him close so he could plant a wet kiss on Victor’s cheek in return. 

“I love you, daddy,” Little Vic yawned, closing his eyes and cuddling up under the blanket. Victor smiled and tucked one of the boy’s many plushies in with his son. 

“I love you, too.” 

Victor backed out of the nursery and closed the door, pausing for a short moment outside the door to ensure his son didn’t immediately climb out of bed. When all he heard was the whoosh of the air conditioning, he hurried back to his own room to check on his wife. The girl was curled up in the same position, though her teacup was now empty. Victor lightly pressed the back of his hand to her forehead; she still didn’t seem to have too high of a fever. He nodded to himself and gathered up the dishes to return them to the kitchen and clean up after dinner. 

It didn’t take long to clean up. With the kitchen clean, the family asleep, and work still to be done, Victor grabbed his phone and headed for the bedroom. I can answer a few emails from bed, he reasoned. He removed the damp clothes and dropped them in the hamper before climbing beneath the covers and cuddled up to his wife. The light of the screen played on his features, casting them into sharp relief as he scrolled through email after email. 

The girl whimpered softly in her sleep and Victor sighed, glancing at the top of his phone screen to check the time. His eyes settled on the date, however, and a thought crossed his mind. He made a mental note to stop by the pharmacy on his way home the next day and set the phone face-down on the nightstand. Victor slid down the bed to lay down and draped his arm loosely over the girl, falling asleep almost immediately. 

~~~

Not feeling any better in the morning, the girl rolled over with a groan before again launching herself out of the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. Victor was woken by the sudden movement and followed her, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. She again knelt next to the toilet and Victor went to get her a glass of water. When he returned, she accepted it gratefully. “I think you should stay home and get some rest today. Your shoot finished yesterday, right? You have worked your body very hard these last two weeks. You definitely need some rest.” 

She nodded and allowed Victor to again carry her back to the bed. He smiled and brushed the hair from her eyes. “I don’t have to be in the office very long today, so I’ll be home as soon as my only meeting is over. I’m going to go shower and get ready for work; just call for me if you need anything.” 

The girl again nodded and Victor set about getting ready. He departed after a quick kiss, his mind fixated on his wife and his theory. The meeting went by quickly; Victor was only halfway invested, but he managed to get through it. It seemed the only person who noticed was Goldman. 

“What’s going on, Boss? You seem distracted today.” Goldman handed Victor his usual cup of coffee and sipped at his own, his eyes curiously searching Victor’s face. 

Victor nodded and held the cup without drinking from it. “My wife has fallen ill. I’m going home as soon as Mr. Vincent sends over the signed paperwork. I expect you’re capable of keeping track of things around here?” 

Feigning offense, Goldman snorted. “I keep the place from burning down weeks at a time when you’re traveling or disappear from the face of the earth. I will be fine for a single afternoon. But is she okay?” 

“She will be fine, yes.” The sound of an incoming email pinged on Victor’s phone and he checked it, nodding when he saw Mr. Vincent’s email address in the preview. “I’m leaving now. If anything comes up, call me.” Goldman didn’t even have a chance to reply before Victor turned on his heel and strode toward the elevator. He shrugged and went back to his own office where he was greeted by a pile of paperwork that would definitely take him the entire day to work through. 

Victor pulled into his driveway and picked up the small bag from his passenger seat. He hurried inside, immediately finding himself with a small child attached to his leg. "Daddy!" exclaimed Little Vic, his face beaming with excitement. 

"Hello junior. How is mommy?" Victor scooped up his son and slipped his shoes from his feet. Little Vic pointed to the kitchen where the clinking of dishes could be heard. "You seem to be feeling a bit better," Victor called ahead, stepped into the kitchen, and gave the girl a tender kiss. 

She wrapped her arms around her boys and nodded. "A bit, yes. At least, off and on. I made some lunch, though. Why don't you get Little Vic set up at the table?" 

Victor nodded, snuck one more kiss, and headed for the table. "You sit here like a good boy," he sternly warned Little Vic, who sat up straight and nodded furiously. Victor patted his son's head and returned to the kitchen with his little bag still clutched in his hand.

He placed the bag on the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, holding her tight as he rested his chin on the top of her head. "You've been very distracted the last couple of weeks," he began, his voice tender with a teasing lilt. "Distracted enough that you might have forgotten something very important."

The girl turned in Victor's arms and looked up at him questioningly. He chuckled and opened the bag, pulling from it a small white box. The girl's eyes widened as she saw the object and immediately knew what Victor was referring to. "Why don't you go take the test right now?" he suggested, handing her the box which contained a pregnancy test. 

She took it with trembling hands and disappeared into the bathroom while Victor placed a sliced sandwich and grapes on Little Victor's plate. The little boy chattered away about his favorite cartoon, but Victor’s thoughts were about twenty feet away. 

He didn’t have to wait long. Only minutes later his wife returned, and a single glance at her face told Victor everything he needed to know. He leapt up from the chair and swept the girl up into his arms, the widest grin spreading across his cheeks. “I knew it!” he laughed, kissing her deeply. She handed him the test and he stared at the double lines for a long time. 

Victor laughed and scooped Little Vic up in his free arm, squeezing him until the child squeaked. “Two kids. We have two kids!”

[thedummysdummy]

Victor’s daughter playing with pudding the cat

Snacks for Pudding

When Victor went into his home office and closed the door, he was completely confident that everything was going to be perfectly fine. Little Vic had been taken to school on the bus and Cleo was happily playing with Pudding in the playroom. “You be a good girl and just play with the kitty while Dad is on his video call, okay Lolo?” he asked, and the toddler nodded fervently with her big, bright eyes wide. 

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.” 

Cleo hung her head and dragged her little feet down the hallway into the bathroom. Victor watched and, when the door was closed, found that he could do little more than laugh helplessly as he returned to the office. Suddenly, he had a long day ahead of him…