"Ooofff!," Splinter let out a harsh huff of air. Eyes wide open he struggled to capture his breath. "Yay! Wa da de da du!," sang the small orange banded turtle tot that sat atop the rat's diaphragm. His youngest son, Michelangelo, sat atop his chest with his binkie in his mouth and baby blanket in hand. Splinter groaned and closed his eyes as the young tot continued to sing. "Ugh..." He rubbed his temples as he rolled over sitting up on his floor mat allowing his intruder to lazily fall from his lap. The tot simple rolled onto the floor giggling along the way.
"KER KLACK!" A loud nose in the next room stole Splinter's attention. He rushed to the dojo to find his red and blue banded tots, Raphael and Leonardo, sitting in a pile of blocks. A sigh of relief escaped his throat. Walking over to his sons Leonardo was the first to come to his feet. At almost three years old Leo was pretty sturdy on his own. Raphael rolled over onto his shell with a low, "Ooofff..." The red banded turtle opened his green emerald eyes looking up at his father with a toothy smile. "We go boom!," Leo exclaimed. Both turtles quickly jumped up to the scattered blocks and started to immediately rebuild their tower. Splinter smiled tiredly at his sons. The three continued to rebuild the tower getting lost in there time together.
After quite some time had gone by Splinter realized that he had not yet seen his middle son, Donatello. He stood up from the mess of colored blocks on the floor leaving the blue and red tots to continue building their fort on their own. Slowly he walked into the large living area of the turtles lair. The TV was on with loud brightly colored characters dancing back and forth. Its hypnotic spell had long over taken the orange turtle tot. He lay on the hard brick floor wrapped in his blanket. His binkie had fallen from his mouth with a trail of drool behind it. "Hmmm...," Splinter thought to himself. "Where is Donatello?," he said aloud to himself. Splinter headed to the kitchen. No one there. Heading up the spiral stairs splinter could hear some slight muffling from the third bedroom down the walk way.
Topping the stairs Splinter made a left turn as the sound grew louder. Once he reached the door to Donatello's room Splinter paused with his ear to the door. "Well I think... Blah, blah... Then we could... " Splinter's brow crinkled and his nose twisted. "Whom is my son talking to?," he thought. Slowly the large iron door creaked open as Splinter's hand turned the knob. One red eye peered inside. The purple banded tot sat atop his computer chair spinning in slow circles. He kept his right knee on the chair and barely, was able to reach the floor with his left foot to continue spinning. All the time, while Splinter watched, Donatello never stopped talking. The door opened gently. "Donatello?" The tot immediately stopped spinning with his back to his father. Squeaks left the spinney chair as the tot maneuvered himself turning it so he could face his father. "Hi Dad!," he exclaimed with a big smile that revealed the gap between his two front teeth. "Good morning my son," Splinter greeted back. "My son, to whom were you speaking to?" Donatello's smiled immediately fled his face at his father's inquire. Looking to the floor he slumped from his chair stating, "No one."
Splinter's face grew curious, but he decided not to push the matter. He gently picked his son in his arms. "Come on its time for breakfast." Donatello's eyes lit up with a big smile. "Pop tarts!" he exclaimed. Entering the kitchen Michelangelo was found with the refrigerator door open. Small grunts and groans could be heard from him as he struggled for something inside. Rounding the kitchen table a loud thud, followed by a final grunt from youngest turtle tot, ended with an entire gallon of milk on the kitchen floor. Setting Donatello down in a kitchen chair Splinter quickly grabbed the jug before it could spill all of its contents. "Michelangelo! What are you doing!?" he scolded. The milk covered tot stared up and at his father, his lip quivering. His crystal blue eyes swelled with tears as he stood there. "hhh..." A small sigh left splinter and his taught face fell gentle again. "Michelangelo, its alright." He picked up the two and a half year old and sat him in the kitchen sink. He wiped the sticky milk from the tot's plastron down to his toes. "There we go my son," he smiled. "Now lets settle down for pop tarts." Michelangelo lit up, his reddened eyes cooling again. "Why don't you two go get your brothers." Splinter sat Michelangelo down and Donatello took his hand. The two trotted off together in search of their brothers. Splinter smiled looking towards the dojo where he assumed the two oldest were still playing. A warm feeling of content filled his chest as he opened the kitchen cabinet reaching for the sugar filled breakfast he had promised his sons. "So far, so good today," he thought aloud.