Author's Note: Hello again! This story was requested by kayladchristine on tumblr. It's going to be quite a few chapters long, so I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

Eighty-six thousand, four hundred seconds in a Monday, and still, there never seems to be enough time for anything. Not enough time to mow the lawn, water the garden, make dinner, and fix the leaky faucet all in the same day, but just enough time to do the little things—like pack two lunches and tell someone you love them, or get reckless and then be stopped by the police.

But more on that later…

Dad's in an absolute panic because he's already running fifteen minutes (nine hundred seconds) late, and there's heavy traffic on the highway, which means he's going to have to confront some very displeased patients once he finally gets to the office. And if there's one thing Dad can't stand, it's tardiness.

It is, however, good news for both Amelia and Madeline, because it means they won't have to sit through Mr. Braginski's morning biology lesson on the human anatomy of growing adolescents. Which, to be fair, isn't an easy job to do, no matter who is teaching the subject.

"Damn it all to hell," Dad hisses, clenching his hands tighter against the steering wheel. He rubs a frustrated hand over his weary eyes and takes a deep breath, hoping to regain some composure.

Amelia frowns back at him. "Dad?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Janie got a new puppy last week."

"That's very nice," Dad replies absently as the car inches forward at the crawling pace of a small toddler.

"She taught him how to sit, roll over, fetch… He likes to play and cuddle, and if you scratch his belly, he makes a funny squeaking noise."

"Mm-hmm."

"So, when are we going to get a dog?"

Dad sighs heavily. "Not any time soon."

"Why not?"

"Who's going to take care of the dog, Amelia?"

"I will."

"Of course," Dad grumbles, not sounding very enthusiastic about the idea despite Amelia's eagerness. "A dog is a big responsibility, especially a puppy. It's akin to raising another child, and I, for one, am not prepared for another child," he explains before honking at a person in front of him. "Damned idiots… How these people haven't had their driver's licenses taken away yet is beyond me."

"But Dad—!"

"No, Amelia. You don't need a dog. Madeline, are you cold back there, poppet? Would you like me to turn the heating up?"

Upon hearing her name being called, Madeline rouses herself out of her thoughts and smiles sheepishly at her father. "No, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh."

Dad's phone rings, and he hastily goes to pick it up. It must be someone from the office because they sound pretty peeved. "Hello? I'm on my way… I still have to drop the girls off at school. I know… I know… Well, tell her I'm terribly sorry, but there's nothing I can do about it at the present time. I think there was an accident on the bridge. All right… Hopefully, I won't be much longer. Goodbye."

He puts his phone down, and just as he does, a police siren goes off somewhere behind them, and Dad stares at the rearview mirror for a good minute, stunned with pure disbelief. He swears under his breath, and shouts at no one in particular, "Really? Now? How do you expect me to pull over?"

"What did you do, Dad?" Amelia asks, a tad mockingly as she turns her head around and looks at the flashing lights of the cop car right behind them. "Oooooh, you're in trouble."

After some maneuvering, Dad gets to the side of the road, brings the car to a full stop, and rolls down the window on his side, furious.

"Are you going to get arrested?" Madeline wonders innocently, sounding quite concerned. "Should I call Papa?"

"No!" Dad assures, a bit too sharply. "Everything's all right, and no one is getting arrested."

"That's what he wants you to think, but it isn't true," Amelia tells Madeline with a snicker. "We're going to have to visit him in jail for Christmas."

Dad growls. "Amelia, I heard that! One more cheeky comment out of you, and you'll get an early bedtime."

For eleven-year-old girls full of as much boundless energy as Amelia, an early bedtime may as well be a death sentence. She immediately opens her mouth to protest, but just then, a young, serious-looking police officer walks up to the window on the driver's side, leans one hand on the roof of the car and says, "Sir? Do you know why I pulled you over?"

"No, officer," Dad replies, trying to sound polite to no avail. His patience has completely thinned. It's definitely not shaping up to be a good day for him.

"It's against the law to be on your cellphone while driving. I'm going to have to ask for your license and registration, please."

"With all due respect, I wasn't driving. I was at a standstill in traffic."

"Sir, that's no excuse to show disregard for the rules of the road. License and registration."

Conceding, Dad takes both of the aforementioned documents out of his wallet and hands them over as the girls look on in great interest.

"Is he going to jail?" Amelia suddenly asks the officer, causing Dad to drop his head into his hands and groan in embarrassment.

"We don't take people to prison for minor traffic offenses," the officer responds casually before walking off for a minute to write up a ticket.

When he's out of earshot, Dad turns around, looks Amelia directly in the eyes and says, "You're grounded."

"Why? I was just asking the policeman a question!"

Dad looks away, scoffs, and shakes his head. "I should have just adopted a dog after all… Would've spared myself the trouble of—"

"Drive safely," the officer announces, coming back to the window and handing Dad his ticket. It's a whopping three hundred dollars. Papa is going to be upset.

There's no point in arguing, and so Dad reluctantly nods and says, "Good day."

Fortunately, the gridlock lightens up once they get back on the road, and it only takes another twenty minutes to get to the girls' school. Dad parks not far from the entrance, circles around to help the twins out of their seats, and says, "Be good at school, especially you, Amelia."

"I'm always good," Amelia huffs, standing in front of him. "Toodle-loo, kangaroo!"

And just like that, Dad's former anger all but dissipates. He and Amelia always play this little game before they part ways, she'll say something silly and ridiculous and he'll have to respond in an equally ridiculous way.

"What about my hug, ladybug?" he mumbles to her with a wan smile, pressing a warm kiss to her forehead before embracing her. He does the same with Madeline a moment later, and then he watches the two go off toward the school building.

When they disappear behind the double doors and are safely inside, Dad returns to the car, pauses to smirk, and finally gets himself to work.

Papa is home early today, and while an immaculate fish is being cooked on the stove, he busies himself with styling Madeline's hair because the girl is still learning to make her own braids, and he's been helping her experiment.

"If you clipped your bangs back, we could see your beautiful face more often," Papa tells her softly with a smile, carefully managing to create a nice French braid that cascades down past her shoulders. He is the one in the house with nimble fingers and an apt attention to detail, which is probably why he is such an excellent chef and owns such a well-established restaurant. "Did you learn anything in school today?"

Madeline holds up a hand mirror to her face to judge Papa's work and gives him her seal of approval in the form of a bashful smile that makes her cheeks glow pink. "We learned how to multiply fractions in math."

"Ahh, and was it easy?"

"Yup!"

"That's what I like to hear," Papa praises her, petting her head. "And how's that boy doing? I think you said his name is Gilbert?"

Madeline flushes and lowers her head in shame. "He probably doesn't even know I'm in his class."

"Oh, don't say that! You're such a beautiful girl, I'm sure he has noticed you!"

"You think so?"

"I know so!" Papa reassures her, turning down the burner on the pan with the fish fillets in it. "Mon lapin, maybe he's too shy to approach you. Boys are cowards sometimes."

"I don't know…"

"Give it time."

The sound of the front door being unlocked fills the house, and Dad walks in a moment later, a little slouched and haggard from the undoubtedly hectic day he's had. "Honey, I'm home," he calls out dryly to Papa, straining a good-humored grin as he enters the kitchen and steals a peek at what is sure to be a delectable dinner. Then, he tiptoes over to Papa and wraps his arms around the man's waist tantalizingly.

"Oh, Arthur, you are so predictable," Papa sighs, shrugging out of the man's hold. "I know why you're suddenly being so kind to me. I want you to explain the ticket you received. Apparently, you were almost arrested," he says, adding that last part with the intention of teasing his husband.

"Amelia," Dad snarls as Papa laughs.

"Who else? You can tell me the whole story later."

"Oh, I'm looking forward to it. Speaking of Amelia, where is she?"

"Moping in her room, I'm sure."

"And why's that?"

"I don't know what's gotten into her. She's impossible to talk to. I've simply given up! I asked her to clean her room about an hour ago, and she snapped at me with that new attitude and temper of hers. I won't let this go on any longer. She needs to have a little more respect for me!" Papa complains. "I know the girls are starting to enter a difficult age, but Madeline never acts so childish."

Dad purses his lips and says, "Amelia and Madeline are two very different people, and we can't expect them to behave the same way. It's just a phase, but if you're truly concerned, I'll talk to her about it."

"Thank you," Papa murmurs, checking on his fish. "But that can wait until later. For now, who's ready to eat?"

He knows there are certain things that he won't understand because he's never been in an eleven-year-old girl's shoes. He knows some things are wholly womanly, and no matter how hard he tries, he won't be able to take on the role of a mother for the girls. He knows all of this. He just wishes Amelia could at least give him a little credit for making an effort to reach out, but lately, their relationship has been splintering more and more.

He's alone with the girls over the weekend while Arthur is at work, and things had been going swimmingly until Amelia decided to lock herself in the bathroom at noon.

And now, he's face-to-face with a wooden door, feeling helpless because he can hear Amelia crying, but she refuses to let him in no matter how much he pleads with her or tries to get her to explain what's wrong.

"I'm dying, and I want Dad!" she howls, loud sobs echoing throughout the house.

"Amelia, ma choute, just tell me what's wrong, and I'll try to make it better."

"You can't make it better! I'm going to die!"

He is starting to become just as panicked as she is, and so, he takes his cellphone out of his pocket and decides he has no choice but to disturb Arthur at work. Maybe he'll be able to restore peace. He has his husband on speed-dial, and although the first call goes to his voicemail, the second call is answered.

"Hello?"

"Arthur, thank god… I need you to speak to your daughter, Amelia, because she claims she's on the verge of death, but won't tell me how she came to such a conclusion."

"What—? On the verge of death? Is she in pain?"

"She told me earlier that her stomach was bothering her, but I don't know if that's the reason she's crying."

"She's crying?"

"Yes, and she said she wants you."

"Let me speak to her."'

"I can't, she's locked herself in the bathroom. Hold on…" Francis says hurriedly before knocking on the bathroom door again. "Amelia, I have your father on the phone. He wants to talk to you."

Amelia merely wails again. "I want him to come home!"

Arthur seems to overhear her request because he clicks his tongue worriedly and says, "All right, bring her down to the office, in that case."

Francis frowns. Ideally, he would've liked to have handled the situation himself—to have shown Amelia that she can trust him just as much as she trusts Arthur, but it doesn't look like he's going to be able to accomplish that today. He feels hurt knowing his daughter prefers Arthur over him, and he wonders if that's because he hasn't been a good enough papa to her.

When he tells Amelia he's going to bring her to Arthur, she doesn't hesitate to open the door.

"What's all this fuss about?"

Amelia wipes her tears away with a quivering hand when she sees Dad walk out to the waiting room to speak with her. Gently, he puts an arm around her shoulders and guides her away from Papa and Madeline and into one of the exam rooms, so they can have some privacy, and so Amelia can tell him exactly what's been bothering her.

Dad's dressed in his white coat and stethoscope, and almost instantly, Amelia feels safer in his presence. He picks her up with a little "oof" and sits her on the exam table, calm, smiling, and radiating warmth. He brushes his hand across her forehead, and lets it fall back to his side when he doesn't feel a fever. "What's wrong, love?"

"I don't feel good. I think I'm dying," Amelia tells him very quietly, sniffling.

Dad takes some tissues off of the counter and wipes her face. "Why don't you feel well? What hurts?"

"My stomach hurts a lot, and I'm bleeding."

"Bleeding?" Dad asks with alarm, furrowing his brows. "Bleeding where?"

Amelia bursts into a fresh waterfall of tears. It takes Dad a few moments to understand, and when he does, his face and ears become scarlet and flushed. He tucks Amelia's hair away from her eyes and pulls her into a hug before fervently rubbing at her back.

"Oh, Amelia. That's what all of this is about? You're menstruating. It's nothing to get so worked up over," Dad sighs, a bit uncomfortable with the situation himself even though he knows he shouldn't be. "This is a good thing. It means you're healthy and growing into a young woman."

"B-But maybe I don't want to b-be a woman!" Amelia stammers, burying her head in her father's shoulder. The rubbery tubing of his stethoscope squishes against her nose.

"Why not?"

"Because then I won't be me anymore."

"You can be a woman and still be Amelia," Dad assures, kissing the top of her head.

"So I'm not going to die from blood loss like Maddie said I would?"

Dad pulls back from their hug briefly. "Madeline told you that?"

"She said that's what she heard from another girl at school."

"When I come home tonight, we'll sit down with Madeline, and I'll explain exactly how it works. But to answer your question, no, you're not going to die. You are going to be perfectly fine, my love," Dad says soothingly. "I'll get you some pain medication for the cramps. Sit tight."

After a hushed discussion with Papa out in the hallway, it is agreed that the Frenchman will run to the nearby drugstore to get some sanitary napkins so that Amelia doesn't have to continue to walk around with toilet paper stuffed in her underwear. He's back soon enough, and then Dad enlists the help of the female RN in the office to show Amelia how to put a pad on in the bathroom because he's sure Amelia would be more comfortable having a woman help her. He's right.

Once that's all settled, Dad gives her some Advil and says, "Go out to Papa and tell him you're sorry for worrying him so much. Then, tell him how much you love him because he needs to hear it. He'll take you and Madeline home. I'll join you all in a few hours."

And everything is okay again.

"So that's where the baby grows?" Madeline asks, eyes wide.

"If all goes as it should, then yes," Dad affirms, taking a sip of water as he explains the diagram on his laptop to the two girls on the couch. They are all snuggled together under a heavy quilt to fight off the winter chill with Dad in the center as he points out the various structures in the female reproductive system.

Meanwhile, Amelia crosses her arms, unimpressed. "I thought only chickens had eggs."

She doesn't know why Dad laughs at that comment, but he does, so much so that he chokes a bit on his water. "Well, it's a different type of egg."

"Then how come I didn't see the egg come out of me?"

Dad bites back a smirk. "It's microscopic."

Papa walks by once or twice, amused by the scene. He is undoubtedly glad that he can leave these types of conversations to the medical doctor in the family. "Would the ladies or the gentleman like any tea?"

Unsurprisingly, Dad and Madeline raise their hands and accept the offer while Amelia wrinkles her face in disdain.

"I'll put the kettle on, then. If there's anything else I can bring, let me know."

Dad tilts his head at him and asks, "Aren't you going to stay for the lecture?"

"As much as I'd love to talk about the ovaries and the fallopian tubes, I have some vacuuming to do," Papa retorts, fabricating an excuse. He'll leave this one to Dad. He's clearly got it under control.

"So, when am I going to get my period?" Madeline asks out of curiosity.

At that, Papa makes a gasping sound and clutches at his chest. "Don't tell me I have to go through this again!"

Dad rolls his eyes and chuckles, doing his best to ignore the dramatic outburst. "It depends. Everyone's body is different. Some girls get it earlier or later than others. It doesn't mean you're any less healthy or that it's abnormal. Generally, most girls have their first period by the time they're sixteen, but it's not unheard of to get it even later than that."

Both of the girls consider this for a moment, until Amelia finally declares, "I should just be a boy. It's easier."

"No, you're both perfect the way you are, and you shouldn't want to change a single hair on your head because there's no reason to," Dad insists. "Now, if you don't have any more questions, it's time for you girls to start getting ready for bed."

They all rise from the couch, and Amelia races Madeline up the stairs and tries to see who can brush their teeth and get changed first. Because of the dull aching still residing in Amelia's abdomen, Madeline ends up winning, and they go to their separate rooms, waiting for Papa and Dad to say goodnight to them.

Papa goes around to tuck them in first, followed by Dad.

"Toodle-loo, kangaroo!" Amelia tells Dad as he covers her with an extra blanket and makes sure she's comfortable for the night.

"Where's my hug, ladybug?" Dad replies habitually before giving Amelia one last hug and turning out the light.