Author's Note: Hey everyone. This is my first "Incredibles" fanfiction, so please be gentle.

Dedication: Quiet Infinity, cause she rocks.

Ever since Bob had announced that he would be getting his Sundays off, Helen insisted that he start giving Violet her baths. "It'd be a great bonding experience," she had said. Bob wasn't so sure, however. He loved his daughter, of course. More than anything in the world, but it made him so nervous to hold such a tiny creature in his arms and be entrusted with its safety. Especially when it was the life of his own child.

It seemed like such an awkward paradox.

Robert Parr, a.k.a. Mister Incredible, could do all the things a regular man could not, and then some. He could break through walls; lift objects with masses ten times that of his own; leap great heights and distances; anything. He had saved countless thousands, helped millions, but in the end he would never be satisfied with the seemingly insufficient amount of safety his arms appeared provide when holding the precious progeny that was his daughter.

Her eyes opened wide when Bob lifted her out of her playpen. Helen was out for the day, running errands and undoubtedly arranging to meet with Honey, Lucius' fiancee. It was her gossip time, and since Helen rarely got out of the house these days, Bob didn't want to deny her some free time. After all, talking to a one year old lost it's vigor after a while.

Or so he had thought.

When Violet smiled up at him, however, he felt as though he could stare into that face forever. He had never realized the magic of being a parent, and now he realized that he wouldn't exchange that blessed gift for anything.

"Hey Vi!" he said in his most adorable baby-talk voice. Part of him was glad Helen wasn't here to hear him. He'd never live a thing like this down no matter how many lifetimes they spent together. "Are you ready for your bath?"

She cooed and stuck her left fist into her mouth. Drool immediately admitted between fingers and gums, and Bob now realized why Helen made a fuss about the baby being clean everyday.

"Guess you're hungry too, eh?" he asked, wincing as she moved the wet hand from her mouth to her father's face. The touch was affectionate, and Bob truly didn't mind.
Until the gush of baby saliva could be felt dripping down the side of his neck.

"Ee-yuck!" he hissed, getting a wash cloth and rubbing his neck raw.

Violet giggled in her safety seat that kept her sitting up while in the tub. Sometimes Bob marveled really at the things people came up with to protect children, and this was definitely one of them. It seemed so simple, yet it worked perfectly. And it had toys attached to the table that encircled the child so that they were completely entertained while you washed them.

As Bob gently rubbed a new cloth over her skin, he realized that she wasn't playing with her toys. He stopped and for the first time took notice of her expression. She seemed completely captivated with her father's face.

Bob smiled warmly, not knowing quite else what to do. Much to his surprise, Violet returned it. He stopped, staring at her in wonder. As he did so, Violet stopped her smile and mimicked his expression. Bob blinked, not understanding.

Violet blinked too.

"Oh, I see," he said at last, grinning wide at his baby's clowning. "You're copying me."

As Bob continued on with Violet's bath (while certain to make plenty of funny faces for her) he remembered Helen saying how a child at Violet's age would often mimic the facial expressions of others. It was how they learned to interact with other children, and it had been proven that it increased a child's confidence in their own social skills as they grew.

Bob wasn't certain how something so simple could be put to use in Violet's later years of life, but he was having too much fun to worry about it anyway. He had progressed to sticking out his tongue and blowing raspberries, which Violet was now trying very hard to emulate. She got the tongue part all right, but all she succeeded in doing when blowing raspberries was pressing her lips together and spraying Bob with a shower of spittle.

"All right, I think we're finished," he announced after a while. Bob pulled Violet out of the tub carefully and wrapped a towel around her small frame. Pulling the plug from the drain, he took Violet into her room and carefully dressed her, diaper and all. He then took to brushing the short locks of black hair that curled around her head, and when all was said and done, he brought her back into the sitting room.

Just as Bob was about to put Violet back in her playpen, he stopped. It just didn't seem right to let her go back in there just yet.

He cast a glance over his shoulder at the paper. It could surely wait a few more minutes.

He took Violet in one arm, and with another supported both of their weight against the arm of the couch as he lay down.

With that, he allowed Violet to snuggle into the center of his chest where he wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling.

"Mommy's going to be happy that you're all clean now, you know?" he asked, knowing better than to think that she would answer.

The sound of the baby's breathing brought his attention to focus completely on her. She had her eyes closed, and the motion of her back had slowed to a steady rhythmic wave.
Bob smiled. She was sleeping.

He ran a finger over her head, feeling the soft silk that was her hair. It glistened a hue of purple in the sunlight that seeped in through the openings in the draperies, and for the first time since Helen had named her did Bob find that the name truly fit her.

"Violet," he whispered, smiling sincerely. "You'll always be daddy's girl."

The End