Rainbow Sherbet 13, Peppermint 2: There Oughta Be An Award
Title: There Oughta Be An Award
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Rainbow sherbet 13 (silver), malt (PFAH: Aaron in disguise), peppermint 2 (bandana), My Treat (playing pretend), whipped cream, fresh blueberries ( Do not become hard and embittered, even if life tortures you at times. There is only one thing that counts: to live one's life well and happily... -Wilhelm Reich).
Word Count: 1093
Rating: PG
Summary: It is four-year-old Aaron's humble opinion that he has the best daddy in the whole world.
"Daddy!" Aaron tugged on his daddy's sleeve. "Daddy!"
Daddy wasn't paying attention; he was too busy staring at the telephone. He'd been talking to Mommy, he'd told Aaron, but he looked so sad that Aaron was sure it couldn't be Mommy he was talking to. Maybe Grammy. Grammy made Daddy sad sometimes.
Aaron didn't like it when Daddy was sad. That was why he didn't like going to Grammy's anymore, no matter what Grammy said. He scowled, thinking about it.
But anyway, Daddy wasn't talking on the phone anymore and Aaron wanted to play with him. It was Saturday, they always played on Saturdays, but Daddy wasn't paying attention to him.
Aaron pouted.
"Daddy!"
"Hm?" Daddy moved and blinked, like he did on Christmas morning when Aaron woke him up early. "Oh. Aaron. What's up, kiddo?"
"I wanna play!" Aaron said.
Daddy fake-smiled. His eyes were still sad. "We'll play in a little bit. I need to be by myself for a little while. Is that okay?"
Aaron pouted again, but said, "Okaaaay. But I wanna play soon."
"Soon," Daddy said. "I promise. Go pick out the game you want to play."
Daddy had promised; that meant it would happen. Aaron beamed, and ran to the game drawer to pick the game he wanted to play. There were lots and lots of them, brightly colored and fun, but he didn't want to play any of them. He didn't think any of them would make Daddy not sad.
He scowled at the open drawer a little longer, then had an idea.
---
Why the hell did Melanie have to do this? He wasn't even upset on his own behalf, or not much. He wouldn't pretend that it didn't still hurt a little bit, that she could stop loving him so easily, but that was all long over between them, and he was getting over it, day by day. Anyway, she loved Aaron, he knew she did. So how could she just drop it so easily?
Oh, by the way, I won't in town for Christmas. Tell the kid, will you?
Okay, so she hadn't exactly used those words, but Nathan was pretty sure that was what she'd meant.
It was what was going to happen, anyway. Poor Aaron. He'd be so disappointed-- he was only four, he didn't understand things like "delays" and "it's got nothing to do with you."
Nathan worried about his son sometimes. Aaron was so solemn for such a young kid, and why not? Where would he have learned differently? No mother around, or effectively none, and a father who brooded instead of playing with him.
Hell. What was wrong with him? He should've gotten up and played with his kid. Determined now, Nathan slapped his hands on his thighs, and got up out of the chair.
"Aaron?" he called, going to the living room door. Funny, Aaron wasn't at the games drawer, although it stood open. Nathan went to close it, and called his son's name again. "Aaron?"
"Hands up!" Aaron yelled, slightly muffled, as he ran back into the room, decked out in the strangest gear Nathan had seen on him yet.
He had a shiny silver colander perched atop his curls, sliding loosely around on his head. Somehow he'd duct-taped a piece of cardboard to his chest. He wore a bandana tied over his nose and mouth, but the little lines between his eyebrows told Nathan that he was making the fiercest face he could manage. In his free hand, he held the plastic sword that Melanie's mother had given him for his birthday.
"Stan' an' deliver!" he yelled, waving the sword.
Nathan stared at his kid for split second before waking up. Oh. Duh.
"Oh no!" he said, and raised his hands. "A fierce outlaw! What am I going to do?"
"Daddy." Aaron pulled down his bandana, the better to scowl at him. "Daddy, 'm not a robber, 'm a knight. A mean knight. I have a helmet, see?" He tapped the colander, and waved his sword again for emphasis.
"Okay," Nathan said, and raised his hands higher. "Oh, no, an evil knight! Whatever shall I do?"
Aaron stood straighter. "I challenge you," he said, "to a fight! To the death!"
Nathan pretended to consider this. "I don't know," he said. "I don't have a sword."
"Oh," Aaron said, and thought about that. After a minute, he brightened, and said, "Wait! Don't move," and ran back into the kitchen, colander slipping.
One very loud clatter and a few thuds later, he ran back in (the colander was now slightly dented and a lot less shiny) with a roll of silver wrapping paper in his other hand. "A sword," he said, solemnly, and handed it to Nathan.
Nathan accepted it just as gravely, and gave it a few practice waves. "Well," he said, "in that case, I accept your challenge, Sir Knight."
Aaron grinned, and flourished his sword. "Arrrr!"
Pirates, now? Okay. "Avast!" Nathan said, participating, and swung his wrapping paper.
--
When Mommy called back the next day, Aaron picked up the phone.
"Hi, Mommy!" he said, happily.
"Hi, Aaron," she said, voice warm. "How've you been?"
"Good," he said. "Daddy and me had a fight. A play fight," he added, just in case.
Mommy's voice got warmer. "Oh yeah? Who won?"
"Me," Aaron said, proudly. "I did. I got Daddy and Daddy died. But it's okay," he continued, fast, so she wouldn't get worried. "It was only pretend-dying. It looked like fun so I pretend-died too. And then we had ice cream 'cause Daddy said fight-winners should have ice cream."
"Your daddy is very smart," Mommy said. "Can you put him on the phone, please? I need to talk to him."
"Okay," Aaron said, and yelled, "Daddy!"
Mommy made a huffy noise. "Don't yell, Aaron, go and get him. Inside voices."
"Oh," Aaron said, not sorry. "Okay. Are you coming for Christmas, Mommy?"
There was quiet on the other end for a minute, then, "We'll see. Go get your daddy for me, please."
"Okay," Aaron said, and put the phone down (without hanging up; he hadn't done that since he was really little). He was a little sad, because 'we'll see' meant no, from Mommy.
But that was okay. She'd come when she could. Mommy loved him; he knew that, because Daddy said she did, and Daddy always told the truth. And even if Mommy wasn't here, there was always Daddy.
He was the luckiest little boy in the world, to have such a daddy.
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Rainbow sherbet 13 (silver), malt (PFAH: Aaron in disguise), peppermint 2 (bandana), My Treat (playing pretend), whipped cream, fresh blueberries ( Do not become hard and embittered, even if life tortures you at times. There is only one thing that counts: to live one's life well and happily... -Wilhelm Reich).
Word Count: 1093
Rating: PG
Summary: It is four-year-old Aaron's humble opinion that he has the best daddy in the whole world.
"Daddy!" Aaron tugged on his daddy's sleeve. "Daddy!"
Daddy wasn't paying attention; he was too busy staring at the telephone. He'd been talking to Mommy, he'd told Aaron, but he looked so sad that Aaron was sure it couldn't be Mommy he was talking to. Maybe Grammy. Grammy made Daddy sad sometimes.
Aaron didn't like it when Daddy was sad. That was why he didn't like going to Grammy's anymore, no matter what Grammy said. He scowled, thinking about it.
But anyway, Daddy wasn't talking on the phone anymore and Aaron wanted to play with him. It was Saturday, they always played on Saturdays, but Daddy wasn't paying attention to him.
Aaron pouted.
"Daddy!"
"Hm?" Daddy moved and blinked, like he did on Christmas morning when Aaron woke him up early. "Oh. Aaron. What's up, kiddo?"
"I wanna play!" Aaron said.
Daddy fake-smiled. His eyes were still sad. "We'll play in a little bit. I need to be by myself for a little while. Is that okay?"
Aaron pouted again, but said, "Okaaaay. But I wanna play soon."
"Soon," Daddy said. "I promise. Go pick out the game you want to play."
Daddy had promised; that meant it would happen. Aaron beamed, and ran to the game drawer to pick the game he wanted to play. There were lots and lots of them, brightly colored and fun, but he didn't want to play any of them. He didn't think any of them would make Daddy not sad.
He scowled at the open drawer a little longer, then had an idea.
---
Why the hell did Melanie have to do this? He wasn't even upset on his own behalf, or not much. He wouldn't pretend that it didn't still hurt a little bit, that she could stop loving him so easily, but that was all long over between them, and he was getting over it, day by day. Anyway, she loved Aaron, he knew she did. So how could she just drop it so easily?
Oh, by the way, I won't in town for Christmas. Tell the kid, will you?
Okay, so she hadn't exactly used those words, but Nathan was pretty sure that was what she'd meant.
It was what was going to happen, anyway. Poor Aaron. He'd be so disappointed-- he was only four, he didn't understand things like "delays" and "it's got nothing to do with you."
Nathan worried about his son sometimes. Aaron was so solemn for such a young kid, and why not? Where would he have learned differently? No mother around, or effectively none, and a father who brooded instead of playing with him.
Hell. What was wrong with him? He should've gotten up and played with his kid. Determined now, Nathan slapped his hands on his thighs, and got up out of the chair.
"Aaron?" he called, going to the living room door. Funny, Aaron wasn't at the games drawer, although it stood open. Nathan went to close it, and called his son's name again. "Aaron?"
"Hands up!" Aaron yelled, slightly muffled, as he ran back into the room, decked out in the strangest gear Nathan had seen on him yet.
He had a shiny silver colander perched atop his curls, sliding loosely around on his head. Somehow he'd duct-taped a piece of cardboard to his chest. He wore a bandana tied over his nose and mouth, but the little lines between his eyebrows told Nathan that he was making the fiercest face he could manage. In his free hand, he held the plastic sword that Melanie's mother had given him for his birthday.
"Stan' an' deliver!" he yelled, waving the sword.
Nathan stared at his kid for split second before waking up. Oh. Duh.
"Oh no!" he said, and raised his hands. "A fierce outlaw! What am I going to do?"
"Daddy." Aaron pulled down his bandana, the better to scowl at him. "Daddy, 'm not a robber, 'm a knight. A mean knight. I have a helmet, see?" He tapped the colander, and waved his sword again for emphasis.
"Okay," Nathan said, and raised his hands higher. "Oh, no, an evil knight! Whatever shall I do?"
Aaron stood straighter. "I challenge you," he said, "to a fight! To the death!"
Nathan pretended to consider this. "I don't know," he said. "I don't have a sword."
"Oh," Aaron said, and thought about that. After a minute, he brightened, and said, "Wait! Don't move," and ran back into the kitchen, colander slipping.
One very loud clatter and a few thuds later, he ran back in (the colander was now slightly dented and a lot less shiny) with a roll of silver wrapping paper in his other hand. "A sword," he said, solemnly, and handed it to Nathan.
Nathan accepted it just as gravely, and gave it a few practice waves. "Well," he said, "in that case, I accept your challenge, Sir Knight."
Aaron grinned, and flourished his sword. "Arrrr!"
Pirates, now? Okay. "Avast!" Nathan said, participating, and swung his wrapping paper.
--
When Mommy called back the next day, Aaron picked up the phone.
"Hi, Mommy!" he said, happily.
"Hi, Aaron," she said, voice warm. "How've you been?"
"Good," he said. "Daddy and me had a fight. A play fight," he added, just in case.
Mommy's voice got warmer. "Oh yeah? Who won?"
"Me," Aaron said, proudly. "I did. I got Daddy and Daddy died. But it's okay," he continued, fast, so she wouldn't get worried. "It was only pretend-dying. It looked like fun so I pretend-died too. And then we had ice cream 'cause Daddy said fight-winners should have ice cream."
"Your daddy is very smart," Mommy said. "Can you put him on the phone, please? I need to talk to him."
"Okay," Aaron said, and yelled, "Daddy!"
Mommy made a huffy noise. "Don't yell, Aaron, go and get him. Inside voices."
"Oh," Aaron said, not sorry. "Okay. Are you coming for Christmas, Mommy?"
There was quiet on the other end for a minute, then, "We'll see. Go get your daddy for me, please."
"Okay," Aaron said, and put the phone down (without hanging up; he hadn't done that since he was really little). He was a little sad, because 'we'll see' meant no, from Mommy.
But that was okay. She'd come when she could. Mommy loved him; he knew that, because Daddy said she did, and Daddy always told the truth. And even if Mommy wasn't here, there was always Daddy.
He was the luckiest little boy in the world, to have such a daddy.