A/N: I think I told McKenzie' I'd write this like ages ago. Or maybe Mila, when she beta'd Hadassah? Well, anyway, here it is - Anthony's first day of school!

Ziva knew for a fact that cooking breakfast was much easier without a three-year-old clinging to her leg, but since she was sending one of her children off to public school for the first time ever today – she grinned, and bore it.

Until she had to get to the refrigerator and get milk, that is.

"Eli," she sighed, picking him up easily and swinging him onto her hip. "Are you getting too big to be held?"

Elijah raised his eyebrows at her comically, blinking at her with his warm brown eyes.

"No," he retorted stubbornly, crossing his arms.

Ziva smirked and touched his nose gently, opening the fridge with her other hand.

"Remember that," she told him under her breath, briefly thinking of her eldest son.

As if he sensed his mother's thoughts, Anthony came barreling into the kitchen, sliding ungracefully in his sock feet and nearly crashing into his mother as she shut the fridge and poured a cup full of milk. She put a top on it, sat Eli on the counter, and handed it to him, and then turned with a hand on her hip to approve of Anthony's attire.

"Look, Mom!" Anthony said, striking a pose. He grasped his shirt at the collar and composed his face, trying to look – well, suave, Ziva assumed. "I got style!" he drawled.

Ziva stared at him for a moment, a little startled. She had given in to Tony's desire to go first-day-of-school shopping for Anthony, but she hadn't exactly expected him to outfit their son in such a … smooth outfit.

Then again, she didn't know why she was surprised.

She crouched down and smiled indulgently.

"Anthony," she said quietly. "Is that hair gel I see?"

"Daddy did it for me," Anthony said smugly.

Ziva blinked at him, and then shook her head, reaching out to roughly his hair tentatively. She looked at the palm of her hand and rubbed it on her jeans, smiling at Anthony.

"What would you like me to pack you for lunch?" Ziva asked, turning back to the masterpiece she was cooking.

"Ham and cheese," Anthony retorted. He paused. "Wait, are we doing kosher right now still?" he asked.

Ziva shook her head. She'd been keeping kosher herself the past few months because of a loss they'd suffered over the summer, but she hadn't enforced it for the boys for a while.

"Ham and cheese it is," she promised. "Pick out one of the juice boxes from the fridge," she instructed.

He went over. Eli watched him, peering at him over his cup of milk and swinging his legs.

"I want school," he piped up.

Anthony, holding a box of grape juice in his hand, turned around and stuck out his tongue smugly.

"You don't get to go," he teased. "You're a baby!"

"Enough," Ziva said shortly. "Go sit down, Anthony, breakfast is almost ready."

"Mo-om, can't I skip breakfast?"

"Most important meal of the day, bud," Tony said, strolling into the room. He stopped off in the kitchen to grab coffee and kiss Ziva's cheek.

"Hair gel?" she growled in his ear.

"DiNozzo tradition, Ziva, c'mon," Tony whispered back, flashing a grin.

"He looks like Danny Cucumber."

"It's Danny Zuko, if you're trying to make a Grease reference," corrected Tony, snorting, "and he looks like a stud."

Ziva rolled her eyes, glancing over at the dining room table. She would have opted to but Anthony in a fun t-shirt and jeans, in case he got dirty at recess, but Tony had decked him out in nice khakis, a button down shirt with a Polo logo on the breast, and nice shoes.

"Mornin', Eli," Tony said, as he poured a lethal amount of sugar into his coffee and adjusted his tie. He held up his hand for a high-five from his youngest, and Eli obliged, beaming.

"I want to go, too," he piped up again, and Tony shook his head.

"Nah, you don't."

"Yeah huh," Anthony cried, standing in his chair. "Big kids go to school. I get to go to school!" he taunted.

"Ziva, these kids are way too excited about the end of their lives."

"Tony," she warned.

He smirked, and gave Eli a look.

"What's Ima cooking?"

Eli concentrated a moment.

"Shakshouka," he said, repeating the word his mother had been teaching him all morning. "Shak-shoooo-kaaah."

Tony turned his head to the side and inhaled, sighing contently.

"That's why you got up so early – Shakshouka on a Monday, Ziva?"

"I could not send my son off to school with a breakfast of mere pop tarts," she retorted, grabbing plates. "Convince Anthony to go sit down," she instructed.

Tony deftly removed the three-year-old from the counter and placed him on the floor, judging him playfully with his knees into the other room where Anthony was waiting.

Ziva rarely made Shakshouka, a Tunisian breakfast dish popular in Israel. They knew it was a good morning, a special morning, when she did – and Anthony was already on his knees in his chair, holding a fork in his hands.

Tony buckled Elijah into his booster seat and moseyed back into the kitchen to watch Ziva while she finished up and started fixing plates, downing his coffee quickly – he loaded it with sugar, and needed it these days, but he still didn't like it.

"Need anything?" he asked, offering help.

She turned and gave him a look.

"Time machine?" she muttered.

"Aw, Ziva," he teased lightly.

He kissed her forehead and took two plates to the boys. He knew she was having a slightly difficult time with Anthony starting school, and it's not that he wasn't – it just hadn't hit him yet.

Ziva pushed her hair back and finished making Anthony's lunch as Tony came back for his own plate, standing in the kitchen and eating it with her.

"You gonna eat?"

"It does not taste as good to the cook."

"Hm," he grunted – she hadn't even made enough for herself. "You okay, Ziva?"

"Yes, I am just flustered," she said simply, wrapping a sandwich up in foil and placing it in the sleek, shiny Magnum, P.I. lunchbox Anthony would be carrying – it was Tony's old one, and in vintage condition. "What if he does not like school?"

"He won't, he's a DiNozzo."

She gave him a look. Tony grinned.

"I mean what if he is bullied? Or he struggles with the work?"

"What? With gluing paper together and tracing his hand into a turkey?"

"Tony."

"Ziva."

She glared at him as she buckled the lunchbox, and Tony scraped his fork on his plate, stepping forward and setting it aside. He put his hands on his wife's shoulders and shrugged, running his hands up and down her arms.

"It's Kindergarten," he said simply. He laughed. "Hey, they all say the U.S. is so behind in education – imagine how easy our Kindergartens must be."

Ziva did not look comforted.

"We should have looked into private school – "

"Ah, c'mon, you saw how much damage that did me," Tony drawled. "You were the one who had to try and fix it for – how long?"

She gave him a wry look.

"Too long."

He nodded – exactly, and shrugged again.

"He's ready for it," he said.

Ziva nodded. Tony was right – Anthony was more than ready to be amongst his peers, and she was hoping structured schooling would curb his wild behavior at least a little.

"Besides, you still have Eli for two years."

At that moment, Anthony hurled a forkful of food at his brother, and Eli screamed, upsetting his cup of milk all over the table and retaliating with a saltshaker. Ziva grit her teeth and tilted her head, giving Tony a look.

"By that point, I may be ready to have them both out of my hair," she muttered.

Tony snorted, and then they put their game faces on and turned to do the required parenting.

"How many girls will there be in my class?" Anthony asked matter-of-factly.

Ziva glared at Tony immediately, lifting her head off of the window she'd been leaning against. Tony grinned sheepishly – they'd just made the last turn to pull into the school, and Anthony was peering anxiously out the window.

"What have you been telling him?" Ziva asked.

Before Tony could answer, Anthony unbuckled his seatbelt and turned, getting on his knees in his booster seat and looking out the window in awe.

"Whoa, look at the playground!" he yelled.

The car slowed to a stop as Tony parked, and Anthony nearly killed himself scrambling to get out of the car. Ziva snapped at him in cool, commanding Hebrew and he stopped, dancing on his feet as he waited for someone to help his little brother.

"No one else is gonna have a Magnum lunchbox," Anthony said loudly. He ran around the car. "Dad, I bet you and mom are the coolest parents," he babbled. "You got a gun, and Ima's a ninja," he went on.

"Yeah, uh, don't mention guns in school, got that son?"

Anthony rolled his eyes, nodded, and clutched at his backpack – this accessory, to Anthony's disappointment, wasn't inherited, and it wasn't Magnum; he'd had to settle for Iron Man, but he liked it because Gibbs had surprised him with it last weekend.

It came with a water bottle of its own!

Ziva came up to Anthony and held out her hand expectantly. He turned to her, eyeing her warily.

"Mom," he whined pointedly. "I'm a big kid."

Tony tapped Anthony in the back of the head.

"Hold her hand now, Anthony."

"But I'm in kinder—"

"Yeah, first thing big kids learn is never piss of your Mom."

"Bad word," Elijah said, poking his father's knee.

"When you're my age, you can say whatever you want," Tony said, looking down at him seriously.

Ziva rolled her eyes and held her hand back, giving Anthony a look that released him of obligation.

"Eli, ahuva, come here," she said softly, and he did, and he took her hand, and she satisfied herself with that.

Tony put his hands on Anthony's shoulders and they walked towards the school, where most other kids had parents with them as well. The school system had a policy of starting Kindergarteners one day earlier than everyone else, which cut down on the amount of people around the school. It was disheartening security mechanism, but convenient for parents who were worried about sending their kids off.

"Dad, you think they'll teach me how to make a jet pack?"

"Uh, no, you're gonna have to wait until MIT for that one," DiNozzo said dryly, giving Ziva a look. "'Sides, only nerds lock themselves up building weird stuff."

"Is Gunny a nerd?" Anthony asked curiously, tilting his head up.

"Ha!" Tony laughed wickedly. "Yes," he said solemnly, nodding. "You should tell him, every day you see him."

Ziva rolled her eyes and elbowed Tony in the side – there was no need to deliberately teach Anthony how to incite Gibbs.

"It is okay to be a nerd," Ziva said. "Or you can be a jock, or you can just be Anthony."

This time, it was Tony's turn to make a face, and they came to a stop in the hallway of the Kindergarten classrooms, while Ziva rummaged through her purse. Anthony looked around excitedly, holding on to his backpack and bouncing.

"I'm gonna teach one of the girls to read," he said smugly. He grinned. "Then maybe they'll kiss me."

Ziva said something in Hebrew that sounded like a prayer, and Tony grinned, crouching down and putting his hands on his son's shoulder.

"Listen, kid," he said in a deep voice. "In a few minutes, me and your mom are gonna go, and you're on your own. What's that mean?"

"Hmm," Anthony murmured, thinking. "It means I be a gentleman," he began smugly, "I listen to what the teacher says or Mommy and Gibbs and You will skin me alive," he took a deep breath, "and I do my best."

"You got it, Magnum," Tony said, holding out his fist.

Anthony bumped it eagerly, and Ziva pointed him towards a room, leading him in. Anthony's young, friendly teacher greeted him, and Ziva and Elijah helped him make a nametag while Tony talked to the woman.

"Can I do it?" Eli asked, holding two markers.

"Eeee-liiiiii," Anthony started to whine, and then caught sight of his baby' brother's face, and his mother's glare. He sighed. "Yeah," he sighed.

Eli beamed and sloppily drew some scribbles on the nametag. Anthony watched in pained horror – wearing the same expression his father sometimes wore during any conversation he had with Jimmy Palmer – and then Ziva quietly took a black sharpie from her purse and wrote Anthony's name neatly for him in a corner.

"Hey, decision time, bud," Tony said, coming back over. "You wanna go by Anthony in school? Or Tony, like me?"

Anthony, taking his nametag and slapping it on his shirt smugly, shrugged and looked up thoughtfully.

"What if I wanna go by Leroy, like a cowboy?"

Tony looked horrified, and gave Ziva a pale look.

"I had a nightmare about this," he hissed.

"Anthony," she said carefully, "It might be confusing to go by your middle name."

"But Gunny does."

"Gunny's a nerd, remember?" Tony protested loudly. "C'mon, stick with Tony or Al or – "

"Anthony," Anthony said with a shrug. "That's my name."

Ziva nodded primly and kissed his head. Eli reached out with a market and put one more colourful smudge on the nametag before Anthony leapt back dramatically and waved them off.

"Al, give me a kiss before – " Ziva began, but a classmate had run up to Anthony and tugged on his backpack.

"Hey!" a little girl with brown hair and freckles said earnestly. "Look, I got a Black Widow backpack!" she squealed, showing off hers. "It's Avengers, too!"

Anthony looked and brightened up.

"I'm Anthony!" he shouted at her.

Tony winced – a little aggressive on the introduction, but charming, nonetheless. The little girl beamed.

"I'm Wendy," she said.

Tony almost choked. Ziva stood, folding her arms, and arched her brows.

"Should I say something about apples and trees at this point?" she asked smugly.

"I'm named after Peter Pan's friend!" Little Wendy went on. "Did you let your baby brother make your nametag?" she asked.

"My mom made me," Anthony said, trying to look cool.

"That's nice," Wendy said. "My big brother is mean to me all the time." She waved at Eli, and Anthony looked smug, puffing himself up a bit.

"We're gonna go, bud," Tony said, speaking up.

"Bye, Al!" Elijah said, waving. His face puckered. "Miss you!" he said.

Ziva hugged him to her knee, ruffling his soft hair. Anthony waved at them, and started to run off – but then he paused, and turned around. He darted back to Ziva and dive-bombed her knees, hugging her tightly until she bent down to hug him right back.

She pressed a protective kiss to his head and whispered some words of wisdom in Hebrew, and then she waved him off.

With the other parents, she and Tony slipped off quietly, Tony swinging Elijah up into his arms to ferry him safely to the parking lot. Ziva got in the driver's seat, to take Tony to work, and waited as he buckled in their youngest and then got in and slammed the door.

She took a deep breath, and smiled – well, that hadn't been as bad as she thought. Anthony seemed happy, and well adjusted, and Ziva looked forward to hearing about his first day. She looked over to tell Tony she was going to be just fine, and noticed he had his head in his hands.

"Aba," Elijah piped up curiously.

"Tony?" Ziva asked. She smirked. "Are you worried about Little Wendy?" she teased wryly.

Tony sat back, pushing his hands through his hair, his jaw stiff. He stared ahead, and then he looked at her, stunned.

"Can't believe he's in school, Ziva," he choked thickly.

She stared at him, glanced at Eli, and then leaned over.

"Tony," she said quietly. "Are you crying?!"

She decided to bring Eli up to see the team, as she didn't have one of her self defense classes to teach until noon, and Elijah she wouldn't take Elijah to Maxine McGee's house until just before that.

She followed her suddenly dejected husband out of the elevator, letting Eli run ahead of her into the bullpen to throw himself at Gibbs.

"Hey, guys," McGee greeted, as Elijah crawled up into Gibbs' lap with a laugh.

Ziva raised her hand in greeting, and laughed quietly as the woman who occupied her old desk scrambled up in a panic.

"You do not have to stand every time I visit, Bishop," Ziva said lightly. "I will not be returning to kick you out."

Bishop sat back down slowly, and Tony slumped at his desk.

"How did it go?" McGee asked, looking between them.

"Well," Ziva said proudly. "He looked very sharp, and he made friends with a little girl," she said – though for now, she withheld the name to save Tony some embarrassment.

"What's a matter with him?" Gibbs asked, jerking his chin at Tony.

Tony groaned.

"I'm officially the father of a kindergartener," he muttered. "I'm so old."

McGee and Bishop laughed. Gibbs rolled his eyes, letting Eli stand up on his desk and lord himself over the bullpen.

"Least he's not in college," Gibbs muttered.

Eli whirled around and looked at Gibbs seriously.

"Daddy says you're a nerd," he sad matter-of-factly.

"What?" Gibbs growled, looking past Eli at Tony.

Tony blanched, and spluttered, shrugging.

"I – uh – hey!" he squeaked. "My firstborn just entered the real world, go easy on me!"

Ziva laughed at his distress, and went to snatch Eli off Gibbs' desk before his beloved Gunny let him smack his head on the floor or something. She glanced around the bullpen she'd left for her family, and smiled, fixing Elijah's hair.

She had one in Kindergarten, one to go, and she planned on valuing the time no matter how fast it flew.

also McKenzie asked me if it was hard to write fic, and i decided to prove her wrong.

-Alexandra
story #220.