a/n: I can't help help it; I can't sleep & it's so late & all this recent news about Cote de Pablo-well, I'm a Jibbs shipper, so loss just inflames my muse.

Tony held his hands like claws and shook them, about ready to head-slap his son silly. He let out a frustrated groan and picked up the spoon Elijah had just dropped for the seventh time. Pointedly, he scooped up a generous amount of puréed peaches and took the boy's hand, placing the utensil in it. He and Ziva had been trying to coax Elijah to feed himself for what felt like months, and he either couldn't grasp the concept or completely refused to consider it.

Tony clasped Elijah's hand tightly in his, showing him how to hold the spoon.

"Mmm, peaches," he coaxed. "Come on, Eli, you can do it."

There was a scraping noise as another little boy pushed a chair out of the way and scampered up to Tony's knee.

"Dada, I feed brother," Anthony said, poking Tony's knee insistently. "I feed him."

"No, bud," muttered Tony. He glanced down. "Go let Mommy put your shirt on."

Anthony shoved Tony's leg angrily, and Tony ignored him, rolling his eyes. Elijah stared at him, holding the spoon. His wrist twitched, and Tony held his breath, watching. Elijah promptly dropped the spoon, and puréed peaches splashed everywhere.

Tony glared at him.

"Anthony?" Ziva yelled. "Anthony, return to your room this instant!"

The three-year-old wrapped himself around his father's leg instead, waiting patiently for his mother to come get him. Tony didn't have the heart to shake him off, and he was too busy trying to get Elijah to eat anyway.

"Why is this so hard for you, dude?" Tony asked, picking up the spoon again and repeating his actions. "Your brother got this in a second," he grumbled.

He set Elijah up with the spoon again, and Elijah dropped it.

"Dammit!" growled Tony.

Out of nowhere, a hand shoved his head forward, chastising him sharply.

"I have told you not to swear in front of my children," Ziva hissed, crouching down and snatching Anthony up onto her hip. Tony muttered to himself, gesturing at Elijah. "He is still not feeding himself?" Ziva asked warily, standing up.

Tony started to answer, but Elijah moved his spoon towards his mouth, prompting eager looks from his parents. He fumbled the spoon and dropped it, but before Tony could let out a sob of despair, he picked it up again.

For a split second, Tony was elated as he watched the little boy scoop up some peaches and get them to his mouth before he realized Elijah was using the wrong end of the spoon.

Anthony let out a ridiculous giggle, and Tony groaned in disbelief.

"Honey," he groused sarcastically, "I think this one's an idiot."

Ziva didn't miss a beat.

"I do not see why this surprises you, Tony, half of his genetics are yours."

babiES ARE CUTE SOMETIMES
ugh, ziva is just my favorite

-alexandra
story #145