Jack did his best to wipe the dripping ice cream off his spoon on the side of his cup before holding it up to his sister. "Open up, Lyssa," he said sweetly, pushing the spoon against her lips. "You're gonna like it."

Emily looked down to the seven month old in her lap and tapped lightly at her bottom lip. "Open up."

The dark haired little girl looked wide eyed to her big brother before opening her mouth.

"She likes it!"

Hotch grinned around his spoon as he watched his son fill his spoon with another glop of his melting ice cream. "Well I'm sure glad she does," he nodded. "You know the rule: you can't be a Hotchner if you don't like ice cream."

Jack looked at his father like he had three heads. "Really daddy?"

"Daddy's fibbing, Jack."

"Am not," the Unit Chief laughed, his spoon swirling in the chocolate ice cream. "Jack, do you like ice cream?"

The five year old immediately nodded his head.

"And mommy likes ice cream. I like ice cream, and now so does Lyssa. And you know what else we have in common?" He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked at his son with his brows raised. "We're all Hotchners."

Jack's jaw dropped. "Wow."

Emily snorted, her free hand slapping her husband's shoulder. "You're ridiculous."

"Am not."

Looking to her son, the woman with the baby sitting on her lap shook her head. "Jack, is daddy being silly?"

The five year old giggled into his hands.

"Jack, is daddy the best parent ever?"

Emily shot a glare over her daughter's head as she readjusted her on her lap. "That's low," she spoke quietly, fighting the smile wanting to spread over her face when she heard her son trying to hold back his laughter.

Hotch winked at the younger woman.

"Mommy, who's your favorite?"

Looking down to her son, the mother of two wiped the drool from her seven month old's chin. "What do you mean? Out of you and Alyssa?" The brunette immediately shook her head when Jack vigorously nodded his. "I don't have a favorite."

Jack frowned. "What about you, daddy?"

"I don't have a favorite either," the older man said.

"Why not?"

Hotch gestured for his son to come closer and he picked him up from the floor, setting him on his lap. "It's like you with me and mommy. You don't have a favorite," he shrugged. At least he hoped the five year old didn't. He stood no chance against the woman who baked cookies and read Jack's bedtime stories with the funny voices.

Jack smirked. "What if I have a favorite?"

The adults glared playfully to their son.

"Just kidding!" he laughed, jumping off his father's lap and running back over to the counter in the ice cream shop.

Emily shook her head as she watched their son ask the girl behind the counter about her braids. "Imagine him having a favorite," she snorted. "We'd both think it was ourselves and then he'd be one of those children who spends his entire adolescence going from parent to parent saying he didn't get something from the other when he really did," she huffed, needing to take a breath, "and then he'd have double everything."

Hotch watched as his wife took another spoonful of her ice cream to sooth her now dry mouth with an amused grin. "That's quite the scenario."

"I got worked up."

The Unit Chief laughed. Leaning over the small table they sat at, he pressed his lips to hers. "Love you, crazy lady."

Emily's eyes crinkled as she laughed against his lips.