The night in Texas was crisp and warm. Mother Nature would pucker her lips and blow a cool breeze. Dinner was over at the Cooper's. Sheldon's mother was busy cleaning up as did a typical housewife doting upon her grown son, his wife and granddaughter. Aleah Cooper. "Sheldon, put Aleah to bed?" asked Amy as she grabbed a few plates to help Sheldon's mother.
"You have done the deed of putting Aleah to bed since we both signed the marriage contract," informed Sheldon. He was right, she had. Amy rolled her eyes, behind her glasses. At least, Sheldon was acknowledging the fact they were married.
His mother whipped around and her harsh gaze which was meant for her Shelly, softened as she gazed at her granddaughter. "Do you want yer daddy to put ya to bed?" she cooed. Aleah wrapped her small arms around her father. "Or do ya want yer mommy to put ya to bed?"
"Daddy!" Aleah cheered, reaching her arms above her head. Aleah's signal she wanted her daddy to make her go up up. Sheldon did just that. He was tall, so up up time for her was much more fun then when Leonard would give her up up.
"Okay, what do we say to mommy and mee maw?" asked Sheldon. Amy sighed happily. Sheldon made such a great father no matter what anyone else said.
Aleah pumped a fist into the kitchen air, overly happy. Amy smiled at her happy daughter in Sheldon's arms. Sheldon's mother smiled and put a delicate hand on Amy's shoulder. "Wil Wheaton stinks!"
Amy rolled her eyes but still, she laughed. Sheldon Cooper was her husband and together, they made Aleah Cooper, she wasn't in any position to say: what else? A good night would have been good but a Wil Wheaton stinks was wonderful all the same. Sheldon carried his daughter up the stairs, dressed her for bed (Leonard's The Wesley Crushers bowling shirt) and yellow pants. He flopped her into bed, smiling down at her. "Daddy?"
Sheldon craned down to the bed she was using during this visit. His father's office, the room his mother converted into the guest room for her granddaughter. What was once...somewhat smart, if you cocked your head and winced, was now pink and brown with butterflies everywhere. "What is it, sweetheart?"
Aleah screwed her face up, pink flesh becoming a twisted mess of tears and no sleep. "I want mama!" she cried, squeezing out a few tears, her pink blankets balled up in her fists of anger.
Her father sighed and kneeled by her bed. "Mee maw asked you if you wanted mommy or daddy to be you to put you to bed. You replied with daddy. I am your father. I am trying to put you to bed," scolded Sheldon. That did not seem to make his little girl wise up or soothe her. "Under the covers, please."
Aleah did as told but was still in a fit of tears. Screaming and kicking. "I want my apples!"
Sheldon had no idea what she was crying about. He decided to ignore her request, probably a lame excuse to get out of bedtime. Her father kissed her head of brown hair. "Okay, night night."
"Daddy!?" Aleah cried, as if Sheldon were never going to come back if she didn't stop him. He had been near the door when she called out for him. Her daddy turned around. "Does Jesus love me?"
Sheldon recalled his mother always saying that. So in that theory, yes, Jesus did love Aleah. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Jesus loves you."
"Can I call him?" she asked, sniffling back tears.
Sheldon had no answer. How would one call Jesus? "You can ask your Meemaw tomorrow," he said. If anyone could call Jesus, it would be her grandmother. Without a doubt.