'B' is for Bedtime
D of The DA's Office
Chris sat on the floor of his ten-month-old daughter's bedroom. She, in turn, was perched on his lap, leaning back against his chest as she pored over a board book about shapes.
"Which one is the star?"
A tiny finger pointed to the picture.
"Yeah! There it is. Mama and Daddy's badges are stars, aren't they? You like those. What color is this star? Is it yellow? Yeah... The badges are a kind of yellow, too, right? That color is called gold. Are you gonna get a gold badge? That means you're a detective – just like us and like Suzy Pratt in your book. You're going to have to work really, really hard to earn that gold star. Your mama was the youngest woman in the history of Palm Beach to ever become a detective. Isn't that cool?"
The baby put down the book and turned in Chris' arms, taking to bouncing on him.
"Are you gonna tackle me? Agh, I surrender!" Chris braced his daughter and went crashing backwards, making her squeal. "You're tough! Just like Mama. She can tackle me to the ground, too. One time, when the Department made her take a self-defense class, she tossed me right over her shoulder! Just like this!" Chris carefully tumbled his little girl in the air, laughing as hard as she was.
"There was also a time when a bad guy wanted to know Mama's name so she gave it to him reeeally slowly – and told him he might want to get a crayon and write it down before he forgot it. You don't know about crayons yet. You, are gonna love them, but for a grown-up bad guy, that jab was parfait!" Chris tickled the ribcage in front of him, eliciting more laughter from its petite owner. She wriggled away from him and headed for a nearby receiving blanket. Scooping it up with one hand, she crawled back over to Chris' lap where she proceeded to flop down, said blanket thrown over her face.
"Where did you go?" Chris asked in amazement. "Where are you?" Chuckling, he added, "wow! You're a natural at being a detective! You're 'under covers!' Only usually, being 'undercover' doesn't include an actual blanket. Well, sometimes it does – but we totally won't go there. No, usually, detectives just get to pretend they are different people! Mama and I like that game. Oh! And speaking of games, there was one case where we got to play card games all night. I pretended I wasn't a cop, just a player. Mama pretended to be a dealer. She handed out the cards. But, since the bad guy wanted me to lose all the money I brought, he told Mama to change the rules of the game! She could deal the cards in a certain way to make me always lose and not know it! That's another thing about being a detective: not only do you have to make your body strong, but you make your mind strong, too. Yes, you do!"
"Ahem?" Rita's exasperated, disembodied voice came through the baby monitor, interrupting the father-daughter game. "X-ray 9 to X-ray 16, do you copy?"
"Busted!" Chris whispered. "I forgot! Your room is bugged!" He could hear Rita burst into laughter from her place downstairs.
Back through the monitor she continued, "at the tone, the time is nineteen hundred thirty hours. Any chance you could wrap up this story time – I mean – this debriefing session?"
"Ah, yes, ma'am." Chris replied, feigning repentance.
"Get your book," he exclaimed, flying the tot like Superman back over to it, then tipping her nearly upside down so she could make the grab. A loving smile flashed across his face as he watched the effects of gravity on her wispy brown hair during the changing of positions. "Can you put it back in the basket? She shoots, she slam dunks!" Chris righted her and held her close in a tender embrace. He spun back around, now the only one facing the entryway of the room, and froze dead in his tracks.
Rita was leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded across her chest, regarding him with dubious amusement.
Chris spoke softly into the baby's ear, "wow! Your Lieutenant Mama is good – did you hear her come up the stairs?" He looked to his daughter, who was still unaware of her mother's presence. He made a surprised face at her, bringing a flat hand up to his gaping mouth. She copied him, making him beam. As he pointed to Rita, the surprise became real for the littlest Lorenzo and she shrieked with delight. She reached for Rita and, in ninety-mile-an-hour babble, conveyed all the fun she just had with her daddy.
"I know!" Rita responded in complete agreement as she accepted the jubilant bundle. "Daddy's bedtime nights are the best. I'm sorry to break up the fun, but you have an early, big day ahead of you tomorrow with Grandma and her friends."
"Oh, no," Chris groaned in affectionate defeat. "Please tell me Fran isn't taking them all to the mall again. Last time, it took me three trips to her car just to unload all our new loot."
"I have noooo idea," Rita responded. She widened her eyes playfully at her daughter and rubbed noses with her. "Grandma outranks me!" she laughed, sticking with Chris' police theme for the evening.
The pintsized tot rubbed one eye and then ducked her face under Rita's chin. Rita melted, cradling the back of the small head and swaying slowly side-to-side. She continued the gentle motion a few minutes longer, ensuring the desired effect of bringing her daughter closer to slumber. "All right, my little one, let's tuck you in for the night."
With a kiss and a whispered, "I love you," Rita laid the sleepyhead down in her crib, and brought up the thin blanket. She chuckled silently as the baby immediately assumed the quintessential pose of arms draped on either side of her head.
Chris moved flush behind Rita, embracing her around her waist and basking in the overwhelming love he felt for his two ladies. Finally, he moved slightly to lean into the crib and offer his own barely audible confession of love and feather-light kiss. Righting himself, the two parents gazed with humble fascination at the rhythmic rise and fall of their child's chest as she slept. Rita leaned her head back against Chris for a moment before nodding toward their own room.
When the nursery door was quietly shut, Rita turned, walking backwards down the hall as she pulled Chris by the hand. He closed the distance between them, sinking a hand into her hair and nuzzling her neck.
Rita purred her appreciation of the gesture, languidly dipping her head back. "So, tell me, partner... How much resistance would you offer if I told you I wanted to tackle you to our bed?"
"No resistance at all, partner. None at all."
"Oh good..."
The End