"That outfit is not going to last five minutes."
Tim looked at Ziva as she stood in the doorway with her arms folded. In his hands, their one-year-old daughter, Sophia, wriggled about, trying to escape his grasp. She was wearing a fancy pink dress with a satin bodice and a chiffon skirt along with white tights and black Mary Janes. A matching pink headband completed the ensemble.
"My mom sent this and I thought it would be a nice surprise for Sophia to wear it today," he said as he attempted to keep the lively little girl from escaping from his arms.
"I understand," Ziva told him with an amused smile, "but I warn you, it will be destroyed very quickly."
"How?"
"Dirt, food stains, leaky diaper," she said, counting each one off on a finger.
"Oh, don't be such a worrier," he chided.
"Timothy, I am speaking from experience."
"What? You have another child out there somewhere?"
"No, but I was a little girl once. We get dirty."
Tim stood, Sophia in his arms, and strode past Ziva, stopping to give her a peck on the lips. "If she gets dirty, she gets dirty. It'll be a wonderful day nonetheless."
The two of them entered the newly decorated living room and kitchen area. Pink balloons and streamers filled the space, as well as a large banner reading "Happy 1st Birthday!" with pink flowers adorning it. In the kitchen were liters of soda, bowls of chips and dip, a veggie tray, a sandwich tray, a large birthday cake (the cake for the adults and older children), and a smaller cake which would be solely for Sophia to destroy.
"Do you think we needed all of this?" Ziva asked, gesturing to the decorations. "She will not remember this day."
"We'll remember it Ziva! And besides, there will be enough pictures taken to show her when she gets older."
He placed the baby girl down, having tired of her whining and struggling. "Go on," he said to her. "You're free! Just don't get dirty!"
"I doubt she can understand you."
"Do you ever stop talking?" he groaned as he pulled Ziva against him with his now free hands.
Her mouth squirmed into a pensive pout. "I suppose I could stop if my lips were occupied with something else," she hinted slyly.
He smiled as he leaned down, whispering, "You read my mind," just before their lips met. The taste of her morning coffee and eggs still lingered on her lips and tongue. He pulled her closer against him, letting his hands grasp at her hair, his fingers intertwining with the thick, soft strands.
Ziva's arms encircled his upper torso. She ran her fingers along the back of his neck, her nails gently scratching against his skin. She could feel the soft tresses of his newly-cut hair. She liked his hair when it was short. It felt so silky when she ran her fingers through it.
"I love you," He murmured when their lips parted momentarily.
She smiled softly. "I love y–"
Her declaration of adoration was cut off by a loud crash which came from behind him. The couple swirled to see their baby daughter—the daughter who moments earlier had been so clean and neat in her beautiful pink dress—sitting on the floor, covered in cake. It seems that young Sophia, bored by her parents' necking session, had curiously tugged on the pink tablecloth which hung too low on the table. The result was that her tiny, personal birthday cake had come crashing down, landing directly on top of her. The little girl didn't seem distressed by this new development, though; she only looked curious as to what this new texture was that now covered her head to toe.
"Sophia!" Tim hollered. He snatched her up, though he held her an arms-length away from his body. "Look at you!"
The girl's only reply was sticking her cake-covered hand in her mouth as she began licking at the frosting which covered her skin.
"I warned you, did I not?"
Tim didn't bother to respond to his wife's gloating. "Come on," he said to his daughter as she attempted to eat her hand, "we'll have to get you changed."
The duo emerged ten minutes later. Sophia had now been wiped clean and dressed in a green day dress. Ziva, in the meantime, had set about cleaning the smashed cake off the kitchen floor.
"I guess she got her cake a little early," she commented to her husband as she took Sophia from his arms. "I think we should keep her in the high chair for the time being."
He waited until the baby girl was securely placed in the high chair until Tim grabbed Ziva by the waist and pulled her back against him. "Now, where were we?" he murmured.
She turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling her face in closer to his. Just before their lips met, she whispered, "I believe we were right about here…"