Han didn't know why people made such a big deal out of this baby thing. It wasn't like there was a whole lot to do. Just watch it. Wasn't like it ever did anything. Just sat mostly.
Watching it wasn't so bad. It was kind of cute. Pretty squishy-looking, like somebody took a regular person and bloated it up, but all and all pretty cute, he guessed.
Definitely cuter than anybody else's bloated, mini-person, anyway. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. This was easy. He was really good at this 'parent' thing.
Then the baby started to cry.
Hours later, he'd tried everything: changing, feeding, that thing where you patted its back, bouncing it. But nothing helped.
This was ridiculous. He was Han Solo. Captain of the Millennium Falcon. He'd faced off against some of the biggest bads in the galaxy. He couldn't be beaten by this.
His head was pounding. Desperately, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out some keys. He dangled it in front of the baby's face. It took a second to notice, but then its eyes latched onto the sparkling, shiny thing in front of it. It shut in awe and for a few moments there was silence. Han took a deep breath and exhaled as softly as he could. Even though he knew he shouldn't bother. This was just the calm in the storm. It wouldn't last.
The baby started to cry again.
Two hours later, Han was sprawled out on his back on top of the carpet. His keys lay beside him and he snored loudly with every breath.
The baby lay on top of his chest, snuggling deep into Han's shirt. It breathed out little puffs of air. With every snore, its hair tufted back and forth in the wind.
Leia looked at her husband and child and smiled. Carefully, she bent down and kissed the top of both of their heads. Then she stood up and walked slowly out the door, turning off the lights behind her.
She couldn't wait to hear all about their day together when Han woke up.