Daniel looked up from where his work was spread across the table as the door banged open. His son, Ethan, ran past him, shedding his backpack on the kitchen floor and racing upstairs to his room, an unhappy frown on his face. Before Daniel could follow him to ask what was wrong, Vala came into the kitchen, holding five-year-old Sophie's hand and looking stormy.
"Daniel, do you have to spread that out all over the table?" she said, stooping to pick up Ethan's backpack.
Daniel looked down. "Uh . . ."
"You have a desk!"
"Sorry?" Daniel said, knowing it was just going to be one of those days.
Vala shook her head, sighed heavily and went into the living room to hang up Ethan's backpack.
Sophie ran over to Daniel and climbed up into his lap. "Watcha doing, Daddy?" she asked, looping her arms around his neck.
He smiled and kissed her cheek. "At least someone loves me," he said, illiciting a giggle. "I'm just working on some translations, sweetheart," he said, answering her question.
"Can I help?"
"I don't know, how well do you know Ancient?" he teased.
"Daddy," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "I'm only in Kindergarten!"
Daniel feigned shock. "What? They don't teach you Ancient in Kindergarten?"
Sophie giggled. "Nope. We're still working on Goa'uld," she said, her blue eyes glinting mischievously.
Daniel laughed. "Goa'uld, huh? Well, how about you help me by telling me what's up with Mom and Ethan today." Sophie was his frequent source for information on the other two family members as she was always more willing to tell him what was wrong than they were.
"Well," she said seriously, settling down on his knee. "Ethan was upset because Payton and Jarret and Carli were making fun of his glasses, so when he got in the car he was all cranky and told Mommy he wasn't going to wear them anymore, and then Mommy got mad and told him he had to wear the glasses 'cause he can't see without them and she paid lots of money for them, and Ethan said he wasn't going to, and he took them off and threw them on the floor of the car, and Mommy got really mad, and told him he couldn't play with Dallas and Andrew anymore 'cause they're being a bad influenza on him," she explained, not even pausing to breathe.
Daniel raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. "I think you mean "influence," sweetheart."
She nodded. "That's what I said, silly!"
Daniel chuckled and kissed her hair. "I guess I should go talk to your brother, huh?"
"Yep. Mommy said he should talk to you 'cause you have glasses too and people probably make fun of you too," she agreed solemnly.
Daniel laughed again. "Thanks, baby. Go help Mommy clean up the living room a little bit so she's in a better mood, okay?"
"'Kay," she said, hopping down. "I'll help you later with your translerations, Daddy."
"Okay," Daniel said, shaking his head and smiling as she scampered off into the living room. With a sigh, he got up from the table, trying to stack his papers neatly. He soon deemed that task impossible and with another sigh, went to talk to his son.
He listened at Ethan's door for a moment, trying to assess what kind of mood the nine-year-old was in before knocking softly and pushing the door open.
Ethan was sitting on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, and glaring at his pair of glasses he'd thrown on the floor. He didn't even look up when Daniel came in.
"Hey, kiddo," he said, coming over to sit next to Ethan on the bed.
"I don't wanna talk about it, Dad," the boy grumbled, scooting away.
"Well, how about I talk about it?"
Ethan slid his eyes to the side to look at Daniel. "Nope."
"Okay, maybe you want to talk about why you were rude to Mom today."
Ethan lifted his head. "Sophie's such a tattle-tale."
"We're not talking about Sophie. We're talking about why you were rude to Mom about your glasses," Daniel said, adding a hard edge to his voice.
"Dad, it's not a big deal."
"Yes, Ethan, it obviously is a big deal," Daniel said, reaching out and laying a hand on his son's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, okay?"
"I'm not mad, I just want to help you, kiddo."
Ethan sighed. "I don't really need those dumb glasses anyway."
"Ethan, your teacher told me you can't even see the whiteboard if you sit in the front row. Believe me, you need the glasses."
"I don't need to see what's on the whiteboard. I already know most of it anyway," he said, picking at his blanket.
Daniel didn't quite know what to say to that. Ethan had already been moved up a grade, and could probably be moved up further, but Daniel and Vala had both been determined that their kids have as normal a childhood as possible, despite their high intelligence and the fact that their mother was an alien. "Are you really that bored, buddy?"
"Yeah, but if I went to sixth grade, they'd make fun of me more."
Daniel sighed and scooted closer so he could drape an arm around his son's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I know it's hard."
"I try and ignore them like you said, but . . ." Ethan shrugged, still staring at his bedspread intently.
"It still hurts, doesn't it," Daniel said, giving his shoulders a little squeeze.
Ethan nodded and Daniel could see the tears gathering in his eyes. "I hate being smart."
Daniel wasn't sure what to say to that. He did remember how that felt, however. "I used to feel the same way, you know."
Ethan looked directly into his face for the first time, and Daniel could see the curiosity in his eyes. "What'd you do?"
"Well, I pretty much just felt awful about it until college." Ethan's face fell. "But," Daniel added quickly. "You don't need to wait that long, because I'm going to tell you the secret."
Ethan looked doubtful. "There's a secret?"
"Yep. You ready?"
Ethan looked at him with his you're-just-making-me-annoyed-at-this-point face. Daniel grinned and leaned in closer. "It's really easy. All you have to do is think of something everyday that you're proud of yourself for."
Ethan wrinkled his nose. "That's what you did? It works?"
"That's what I did, but I didn't figure it out until a friend of mine helped me out." Ethan still looked skeptical. "Here, we'll get started with three, and then everyday from now on, you have to think of one and write it down. Go grab a notebook and pencil."
Ethan slid off the bed and grabbed a notebook and pencil from his desk. "I can't think of any," he said, sitting down next to Daniel again.
"I'll help you with the first one. I bet you're proud of yourself for getting second place in the chess tournament last week."
Ethan smiled. "That was pretty cool when I beat that eighth grader."
"No kidding. Remember the look on his face?"
He giggled. "Yep, he was pretty mad."
"See? Write it down though, or it won't work."
Ethan hastily scribbled it down. "What else?"
Daniel thought for a minute. "How about when Sophie fell off her bike and you gave her a piggy-back all the way back to the house?"
Ethan wrinkled his nose. "That counts?"
"Are you proud of doing that?"
He thought about it for a minute. "I guess so."
"Well, I'm proud of you, for that," Daniel said, squeezing his son's shoulder.
Ethan shrugged and wrote it down. "Now what?"
"How about you come up with one, now," Daniel encouraged.
"Um . . ." Ethan thought for a minute, his eyebrows drawing together. "I finished all the Lord of the Rings books last week."
Daniel was surprised. "You did? All three?"
Ethan shrugged. "Four. Counting The Hobbit."
"That's awesome, Ethan," Daniel said, grinning down at him.
Ethan shrugged again, studying the three things he'd written down. "I'm gonna write some more."
Daniel gave him a one-armed hug before getting off the bed. "Write down as many as you want. I'd better go clear off the table before Mom throws my stuff away."
Ethan looked up at him with sympathy. "She probably already did. She's in a bad mood today."
Daniel smiled at him and picked up his glasses he'd left on the floor. "It would probably help if you wore your glasses."
Ethan sighed but leaned forward to take the glasses, sliding them onto his face. "Probably."
Daniel shook his head and turned to leave, pausing in the doorway. "Love you, buddy."
Not looking up from his notebook, Ethan replied, "Love you too, Dad."
