The setting of this story takes place after Miracles Come in Extra Small, but it's not supposed to be a sequel or anything. It is simply just something short and silly I wrote after this long chat with my father, whom I've construed Syaoran to resemble. Sakura is based on no one. She may seem a bit OOC, but you know, if I kept her the way she is supposed to be I would have had to work with a rather impossible personality here. I mean, who acts all cute and bubbly when she has four children or five if you include the husband? I got a kick out of writing this one because I had to write in the POV of a guy (and let's just say I'm not good at it, so I make it into a long joke). I had to think, hey, if I'm a man how do I think a woman might react to, you know, stuff in general? I enjoy mutilating the genders. We're all ridiculous when it comes to being human.

Anyone who has not read Miracles Come in Extra Small will be confused as to who is who, so I'm going to briefly explain the structure of this family. Syaoran and Sakura are parents of adopted twins, Hiroki and Ayame, after their unexpected marriage (full story if you read Miracles…). Later they give birth to a son, Marco and another son, Daisuke. Hiroki, Ayame, and Marco got a lot of attention in the previous story (but I added a tidbit somewhere in the epilogue for Daisuke during my editing round). So, Daisuke is the main hero of this story and his brothers and sister are briefly mentioned. Daisuke show time!

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: If you don't know the owner or author or creator's name, then the material is stolen. I do know that Card Captor Sakura is created by CLAMP, authored by CLAMP, and owned by CLAMP, thus I have not stolen anything from CLAMP.

CLAIMS: Syaoran is like my daddy, completely out of his mind, but a silly, fun-loving dude at the same time. Daisuke is my extraordinary and extra smart infant I wish to call mine. He is also loosely based on my cousin, who does this cute thing of planting wet ones on familiar faces. When you hold her close sometime, she chortles and snatches your face with that cute mouth of hers.

Man Talk

"Syaoran!"

Syaoran dropped everything and frantically ran into his youngest son's playroom to find his wife in a state of distress.

"Look! This is your fault," she cried, gesturing wildly at the floor.

Syaoran skimmed the floor with the contents of a child's toy box scattered around.

He scanned the area dumbly. "My fault? I don't understand, Sakura… If you're so bothered by the mess, just ask the kid to pick it up. Don't go dumping the blame on a third party."

"Will you look at what I'm pointing at?"

Syaoran spared a glance at their son sitting in the middle of the room with a few stuffed animals fallen around him. A wry smile played at the man's mouth "Yeah, I know who that is. Do you?"

Sakura dropped to their child's level and kneeled beside Daisuke. She scooped up some hair on the side of Daisuke's head with her thumb and received a startling cry from their son. "Maaaa!"

"Don't fuss, Daisuke. Show your father what's wrong."

"Why don't you just say it otherwise we're going to get no where."

She cast him a stern glare. "Look at this hair! Marco never had a problem with hair! I can't use Hiroki as another example since he's not biologically yours, but he didn't have a problem with hair either."

"Are you blaming Daisuke's hair on me?"

"Genetically speaking, yes!"

"I'm sorry, Wife. I wasn't born bald!"

Sakura crossed her arms over her chest and threw a scathing look at him. "This is not a joke. I wish you would take this more seriously because I'm being dead serious here."

"I am being serious. So serious I'll let you know that you would be doing the kid a favor if you just whipped out your magic scissors for him."

"A favor? It's too soon to be giving out favors! He's only fifteen--"

"Sakura, look at him. Someone could mistake him for the opposite sex. We, meaning us men, aren't supposed to have long, wavy locks!"

"And whose fault is that?"

"Instead of pointing your finger at me and my genes, why don't you just go downstairs and whip out those scissors. In the meantime I can give Daisuke some reassurance before you begin."

Sakura huffed. "What's wrong with being a girl?"

"Top drawer of the dresser in the living room. If a pair isn't there, try the medicine cabinet in one of the washrooms." Syaoran was not going to encourage the fight out of her. It would be like adding fuel to an inferno. Not a good idea. It was just his luck that Sakura shrugged him off and trotted out of the room.

Heaving a relieved sigh, Syaoran plopped to the floor in front of Daisuke. "That was a close call! Hate to go through the same thing again."

Daisuke picked up his rattle and shook it broadcasting his agreement with his father.

"She goes bonkers every time a son comes of age and gets his first haircut. Not my fault I wasn't lucky like her, born a bald baby until the ripe age of two—Marco had the most hair when he was three. A haircut was due by then and I had to prepare him for that. She sees this as a coming of age ceremony and it brings out the worst in her knowing that you are growing up and steadily growing apart from her."

Syaoran fixed Daisuke with a man-to-man look. Daisuke returned the stare with his wide amber eyes, unblinking. He remained still as he brought the rattle deftly to his mouth, eyes still looking up to meet his father's stern gaze.

"Look here, Son. You need to listen and listen carefully because I'm going to give you a lesson. This isn't going to be too hard for you--heck--your big brothers learned it the hard way. The thing is, you have to worry about your mama—"

"Ma-maaa," he crowed, releasing the rattle from between his lower gum and bunny teeth. He handed the toy to his father.

"Thanks—yes, your mama is the one we have to worry about. She's going to be crying when she starts snipping your bangs. That's how she starts with everyone. With sons it's the same. With daughters…" Syaoran paused for that hard frown to take over. The frown disappeared when he finally recalled the time with his daughter. "I think for Ayame she was balling over taking her off her pacifier. With the boys, she thinks that the first haircut is the turning point. She's probably right, but we both know you need it."

Daisuke reached for the miniature beach ball and slowly explored the smooth plastic with his mouth. His eyes were trained to the look in his father's eyes. "We can both agree that men should look like men, right? I mean there is nothing wrong with your sister or your mama. We both like women, don't we?"

"Ma-Ma!"

"Yeah, mama is a very sentimental woman, so keep this in mind. She's going to cry. You have to let it leak out without complaining too much or else she might find cause to refuse you a second haircut in the future. You don't want that. We have to keep our image as men. That crying and complaining stuff is constricted to women. You'll learn more about women things as the years go on."

Syaoran caught a glimpse of a stack of newspapers by the leg of the crib. "Can I have that, Son?" Syaoran stuck out his hand and the ball was fitted into his palm. "Thanks. Don't mind me. I'm just going to get set for mama. You know…" Syaoran lifted Daisuke in one arm as the other arm was used to spread the newspaper around the room. "She bared a women thing just a moment ago; that flame-like temper of hers. Just a little word can thrust her over the edge. Here's a word of advice; in that situation you need to back pedal and change the subject. I set an example right there. It works."

"Ma-ma!"

"Gee, little buddy. I'm beginning to get the feeling that your first word is engraved into that tiny skull of yours. I guess it's not a bad thing that a good word can stick so strongly."

Syaoran set Daisuke on the papers and proceeded to unbutton the boy's shirt. As he took off the shirt, Daisuke kept eyeing the doorway.

"Okay, let's go over the simple ground rules for this momentous occasion. First, be a man. Complaining is an absolute no-no, but buddy, chuckling is even worse. She'll take your laugh as defiance and you don't want to never have a second haircut. Rubbing the fact that you're a man into her face is a step into big doo-doo. The last thing she wants to learn is that her youngest is coming of age like the rest of them. Understand, Daisuke?"

The boy hung to every word, evidenced by the intent stare he gave his father. Syaoran held out his arms for the boy to crawl into them.

"Okay, you're ready."

Just then, Sakura walked in on them. She sniffled as she stared directly at Daisuke. "Alright, I'm ready."

Daisuke turned his head to his dad and chuckled. Syaoran made a motion and whispered quietly, "Laugh now, so I can take it and stash it away. No more laughing, Son, remember?"

Daisuke reached up and cupped his father's face. He kissed the rough jaw.

Sakura giggled at the appalled look Syaoran returned. "How cute."

Syaoran retorted profusely. "No it's not—Daisuke, remember. Don't get distracted by your little fancies and cute ways."

Sakura scoffed, picking up the boy. "Don't be ridiculous, Syaoran. A fifteen-month-old won't get much out of your pep talk."

"I beg to differ."

Sakura shoved the man by the shoulder. "Go on you! The kids are waiting for a pick-up at daycare."

"Set a similar example, Daisuke." Syaoran's reminder was quiet, but audible.

"Go," Sakura barked the order again.

Even after Sakura turned her back to him, Syaoran hung behind the doorframe making faces and wild hand signals. Sakura began the first snip of a lock of hair, but immediately noticed the distracted look on her son's face. If she turned to stare at what Daisuke stared at, Syaoran would be in deep trouble no matter how fast his reflexes were. The woman had eyes that burned holes through walls.

"Ma-ma!" Daisuke gave the shout to create the necessary diversion.

"Yes, Sweetheart?" His mother averted her eyes to him.

Daisuke gave his mother a shy grin and, in return, he glimpsed his father giving him two thumbs up.

--No clue what the funny man called my daddy said. I like him. I like Ma-ma. Almost as much as I like this thing that's so smooth and makes a squeaky noise when I bite into it… What's he doing behind the doorframe? Why is my hair falling out when Ma-ma puts the silver clippers through it? Ma-ma! What are you doing?!