Entertainers in Rehearsal
Dr. Mallard regarded the man before him and attempted to speak soothingly. "All right, Jethro, now you settle back and remember that this will make you sleep for some time. One of the benefits of an on the job injury remains the rest that follows. Try to enjoy it, rather than resent it."
Cradling his head against the back cushion of the couch and scowling angrily, the NCIS team leader protested instead. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I do not need mollycoddling, Doctor Mallard?"
Normal people would respond to the brusque tone of the very socially compromised Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs with trepidation. Dr. Mallard, though, having spent years as both a friend and a coworker, dismissed the claim out of hand.
"Hmmm…" Ducky regarded him, adjusting his glasses to peer at Jethro's pupils. "Mollycoddling certainly occupies a place in our lives."
"Forget it," Jethro ordered, closing his eyes in resignation. "Let me say, though, that it will end up your fault if this case stalls. None of my team wants to investigate this whole day care business, much less come into contact with kids. I have forced them to approach the preschool only by threatening them. Though they pride themselves on their tough exteriors, toddlers terrify them. Unsupervised, they will gratefully ignore what I have instructed them to do." Gibbs opened his eyes and narrowed them at his friend. "Preschoolers scare them, Duck."
Unrepentant, the doctor merely nodded that he had heard.
Shutting his eyes again, Gibbs pondered another possibility. "Of course, with four adults suspiciously identifiable with toddlers on any given day, who act as preschoolers already, throwing them into the lion's den with others in their maturity level certainly demands strict supervision."
Refusing to be baited, Ducky did not respond right away. Instead, he listened to Jethro's thoughts while reviewing what he knew of the case.
NCIS had investigated a Marine thought to have sold drugs under the cover of a child day care business. After nearly two weeks of intense investigation, Team Gibbs knew they had the evidence to convict the military officer within their grasp.
When confronted by Team Gibbs the Marine had pulled a gun and started firing, however. The team had reacted in kind, and in the melee, a bullet grazed Gibbs and knocked him to the ground.
Thus, Dr. Mallard had offered him the option of a visit to the hospital or confinement to his own home.
Jethro had chosen his own house, though ungraciously.
Ducky would perform the Marine's autopsy later that day.
Swabbing his patient's arm as he addressed Jethro's earlier qualms, Ducky spoke sympathetically, "Just give them a chance to conduct themselves away from your supervision and maybe they will surprise you. Let them leave the nest, Jethro."
The pinch of the hypodermic silenced any rejoinder from Gibbs.
"Dad, no, please," eleven year old Tony begged. Leaning over the back of the chair where his father sat with the telephone in hand, the child's breath blew across the receiver.
"Please, please, please," the boy continued, his voice laden with dramatic emphasis.
Adjusting his glasses, Jethro spoke in a soothing voice. "Son, now I explained my position to you. I can not permit you to stay home alone at your age. Maybe in a couple of years I will consider it, but you are not mature enough right now."
Flinging himself towards the doorway in dramatic fashion, Tony did not try to mask his outrage. "That is just not fair and you are making me stay a baby! I wish I lived somewhere else with a parent who trusted his kid instead of the one I got born with here!"
With that he stomped up the steps and to his room. Gibbs listened for the footsteps to retreat before massaging his temples and attempting to unkink the tight muscles of his shoulders.
Truthfully, he sympathized with his oldest, understanding how badly Tony wanted to separate himself from his brother and sisters. Unfortunately, though, as a single father to four children his focus generally gravitated towards the good of the group rather than the good of the one.
His children had finished up their school years in the past days, and none of the summer camps began for a solid two weeks. In the interim, NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs depended upon day care to oversee his children, who ranged from eleven to eight years old. Though they certainly had matured over the past months, they were nowhere near the ability level to stay anywhere without supervision.
Jethro gazed at the framed pictures on the mantle. His youngest, Abby, grinned gap toothed from this year's school picture. Loving and cuddly, she still possessed a strong sense of her own identity. These days she insisted that she only would wear her dark hair in pigtails, and refused to dress in outfits other than long, flowing dresses. Usually gregarious and optimistic, she generally cooperated with the household rules and procedures.
Gibbs stood up and stretched, and straightened Kate's photo on the opposite end of the mantle. At ten, his oldest daughter considered herself quite mature and the most responsible member of the family. A great deal of the time that proved correct. With hair a couple of shades lighter than her sister's, she possessed more of a regal poise and tended to adopt a ladylike bearing.
He focused on his younger son's photo next. A nine year old, his sole blond child approached every event or situation seriously, and Gibbs reminded himself that even as a newborn, Tim had managed to appear solemn. Though not the attention generator his brother was, Tim nevertheless grabbed his share of his father's notice.
Last the agent studied a picture of his oldest, Tony. Extremely handsome, Tony knew how to use his great smile or glimmering eyes to his advantage. However, he gained popularity from his friends because of his innate athletic ability, and though still a pre-teen, females flocked to him in response to his charm and suave approach.
Gibbs drummed his fingers onto the mantle, mentally reviewing the day care arrangements he had confirmed for his four. Until they could all function independently, he would not entertain the idea of a no- child- care- summer.
A crash from upstairs followed by outraged shrill voices warned him that his boys had done something to anger the girls again.
One of the most perplexing aspects of his fatherhood lay in the fact that his children ganged up and banded together or operated as lone entities with no set timetable. One day two of the four would tease, exclude, or separate from the others, while another day the four refused to participate in any activity other than a group one. Then, at one time or another they would insist they wanted to spend time away from each other. Though Jethro Gibbs had some talent in predicting who would or would not unite, he could not always guess correctly. Even after eleven years as a parent, he considered himself a novice because of issues like collaboration.
His daughters stomped angrily down the steps, both calling out for him and promising their brothers they planned to tell and expose their crimes. Gibbs noted that his sons did not summon him as well, which alerted him to their guilt in the current crime.
Sure enough, in outraged tones Abby and Kate insisted that Tony and Tim had sneaked into their room and run down the paper dolls that they had dressed and posed with Tim's battery operated parachutist. Now, the females confirmed, three of their paper toys lay mutilated, and the outfits appeared shredded.
Enlisting their father as an ally, they grabbed his hands and tugged him back upstairs to view the damage. Of course when he approached their room he saw no sign of the boys. In fact, he had to cross the hall and summon the boys, who appeared engrossed in the books they held. They feigned surprise, and he almost smiled at their blatant acting, especially when Tony arched his eyebrows.
It took a few minutes to salvage the dolls, correct the boys, and restore a semblance of peace. Finally, though, he retraced his steps to the bottom floor and began preparations for supper.
Tony dashed into the room a few minutes later, peeped into the pots on the stove, and raced towards the front door.
"Hang on," Gibbs directed. "Do not head into the yard right now, because I have almost finished supper."
Immediately the child ignored him, throwing open the door instead.
With an adamant, "Shut that door right now, young man!" Gibbs pointed towards the stairs. "You may stay upstairs, or you may stay down, but it is too near supper to go out of the house."
Fuming, Tony closed the door with a bang, threw himself against it, and crossed his arms defiantly. He regarded his father with a stormy expression. "What can I do, then? You just make me stay home like a baby because you want to treat me like Abby. I never get to do anything or go anywhere or have fun at all!"
Breathing in a breath steadily to calm himself, Jethro motioned Tony over to him. Determined to communicate his unhappiness the boy obeyed by shuffling as slowly as he could to his father's side, lips formed into a pout.
Gibbs leaned against the counter and tapped his son under the chin. His steely blue eyes met his child's smoldering green ones and he made no attempt to hide his impatience. "Son, I understand that you feel cheated that I will not let you stay home alone but plan to send you to day care, instead. As your father, that decision belongs to me, and believe me, Son, when I think you are mature enough to spend time by yourself I will allow it. However, that day will not exist in your immediate future."
Tony tried to pull away, but Gibbs grabbed his upper arm and reminded him sternly. "I did not dismiss you."
When his son did not respond other than to scowl, he warned quietly, "Again, I know you feel upset with me. However, if you do not get a handle on your behavior quickly, you are going to find yourself on the receiving end of a spanking. My patience has diminished with you, Young Man."
He regarded the child and watched the play of emotions cross the boy's face. It had been quite a while since he had spanked his oldest, and he knew Tony was assessing the likelihood of it happening that evening. Finally Jethro prodded, "Do you think you can take care of your attitude by yourself, or do you need me to do it for you?"
Tony regarded his shoes and kicked at the tile, still wanting to communicate his displeasure through sulking, but not willing to push his father into carrying out the corporal punishment threat.
"Son, answer me now," Gibbs warned, turning loose of the child's arm.
"Ok, ok," the eleven year old acknowledged. "I understand."
Jethro relaxed. "All right, then, come help me with supper."
Still unhappy, the child nevertheless obeyed, not willing to risk the outcome of provoking his father any further. Wordlessly he assisted, and at supper managed to improve his attitude enough to join into the conversation.
Later as Jethro tucked a sleepy Kate into bed she grabbed his shirt tail as he turned to leave. He regarded her quizzically, not sure what she needed.
"Daddy, I think that you can skip any day care for me, too. It probably is only necessary for the little kids."
"Is that so?" he responded.
"Absolutely," she beamed. "and I already told you my teacher said girls mature faster than boys."
Gibbs admired her well thought out attack. He rubbed his chin, then leaned down and kissed her again. "That may be true, Katie, but I do not consider either you or your older brother capable of staying by yourselves."
She reacted with a scowl, and turned over so that she did not face him.
His children took their communication skills seriously, even the non verbal ones!
Gibbs leaned against the door jamb almost a minute regarding the dramatic display of her obvious displeasure.
Finally he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in resignation. Parenting meant he would end up angering his children at times if he took his responsibilities seriously. Jogging back down the steps he acknowledged that tonight the issue of day care definitely had set him up for a clash with his two oldest.
Of course there was no real argument. After all, he was the dad.
Still, sometimes he felt such guilt at the amount of time he stayed away from them, on duty and on the job.
Then, when he did get physical time with them, he felt the majority of that quality time was spent saying no to one request or another.
Nevertheless, with four personalities and four little people dependent on him his duty lay in keeping them protected, loved, and supported a hundred per cent of the time.
Three weeks later he stood in the laundry room, holding out a tee shirt and shorts as an offering to his eight year old, Tim.
"We need to leave soon. Tony and the girls already have their things together."
Attired in a long sleeve shirt and jeans, the child protested, "Daddy, I said I am already dressed. I prefer what I have on now."
Staring at the child's earnest expression Gibbs tried to reason with him. "Son, look, you are scheduled to spend the day outside. The clothes you have on just will not do. It is supposed to be hot, hot, hot today."
Tim pursed his lips. "I want to stay inside and read. This will be fine."
"What do you have against a nice hike with the other kids? Think of all the interesting plants your group will find along the way," Gibbs wheedled, adding emphasis to his words to entice his son.
Stubbornly, Tim stuck to his choice. "No, Daddy, no, I want to stay inside today. These clothes will do for me."
Out of patience, finally, his father closed the discussion. "I said no. Your class plans to have the entire day in the outdoors and you will join them there. Hurry and change."
Ignoring the directive, Tim remained rooted to his spot.
Jethro counted to ten under his breath before he impatiently reached for him and skillfully unbuttoned the striped shirt. Reaching for a hanger he commanded, "Get your jeans off so I can hang them, too, and hurry."
When he turned back to find his son pouting, rather than obeying, he hurriedly grabbed the boy's waistband and unbuttoned and unzipped, using the opportunity to smack his son's bottom as the pants fell.
Tim's eyes filled with tears, but he did step out of the pants legs and stomp backwards as he watched his father grab the trousers and hang those, as well.
Eyeing Tim's lack of progress and continued defiance, Gibbs warned, "If I finish putting up this outfit and you still have not put on your tee shirt and shorts, I will blister your bottom."
Not willing to risk a spanking, Tim reluctantly did as his father bade him, then left the laundry room with a face positioned in a sulk to display his misery.
Gibbs followed on his footsteps, clapping loudly and calling for all four kids to climb in the car.
Tim bounced onto Kate as he climbed in the back, deliberately trying to provoke her.
It worked, and it took Gibbs a couple of minutes to calm everyone.
Then he saw Tim's bare feet.
Not willing to send his youngest son back into the house, he sent Tony back to grab Tim's shoes, which he had left in the laundry room.
Abby and Kate began singing in the car as Gibbs backed out of the driveway. When the younger child began singing at the top of her lungs, Tim reached over a clamped a hand over her mouth, angering her.
Gibbs called out a warning.
She bit the side of his hand, and he shoved her as far as he could get her from him.
Still mad, Tim kicked at the seat in front of him, Tony's, until the older boy reached around and popped his foot. "Quit, Tim! I told you to stop six times!" Defiantly the younger boy kicked again and Tony exploded in anger.
Gibbs reached over and grabbed Tony's hand before he punched his brother. "Ok, that did it," he announced, turning the car back towards the house.
"He started it, Dad!" Tony protested, his green eyes blazing with indignation.
Steering the car back into the driveway, Jethro did not respond. When he parked he made eye contact with the kids through the rearview mirror. "Do not move from your seats for any reason."
Nodding, Kate, Tony, and Abby settled back into the cushions. Gibbs got out and snatched open the back door, pointing towards the front door. "Inside!"
Tim attempted to change the course of events by responding hurriedly, bottom lip wobbling, "I stopped, Daddy. I finished acting bad!"
"Now!" Gibbs repeated, and the child obeyed then, sliding from his seat. Gibbs grabbed him by the arm and ushered him into the house, heading straight into the kitchen. Yanking a chair out from the table Jethro sat down and yanked the squirming boy over his lap without saying a word.
Moving his son's hands away Jethro stripped away shorts and underwear and leveled five stinging smacks to the boy's derriere, ignoring Tim's pleas and promises of immediate good conduct to deliver a painful, decisive lesson instead.
Gibbs kept him across his lap until the sobs turned to shuddery breaths a few minutes later. Finally setting Tim on the floor, he held him by his shoulders and warned, "I will tear your bottom up again this morning if you do not change your attitude and behavior immediately. Do you understand?"
Nodding miserably, Tim responded, "I understand."
Gibbs turned him loose. "You got your bottom torn up because you did not take care of your behavior yourself, and your attitude was unacceptable."
Tim reached down to pull up his clothing but Jethro stopped him. "Hold on- I am not positive that you plan to do any self correcting."
"I am, Daddy, I will," the boy nodded earnestly.
Jethro tipped up his small chin and his expression softened as Tim reached back to rub some of the sting from his bottom. "Ok, then get dressed and get back in the car immediately."
Rising from the chair he leaned down to kiss the top of the boy's head.
Hurriedly his son straightened his clothes.
Gibbs grabbed his hand and they made their way back to the car.