James awoke from his nap to the sound of pellet guns and banging. "What's that?" he grumbled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Leila? Honey?"
He heard little James laughing and screeching at an ear-splitting tone, his wife laughing lightly in return. He followed their noises through the hallway and to the dining room. Through the sliding glass doors behind the dining table he saw the two of them outside.
And they were dressed as pirates.
He began to march to the door, infuriated, then paused. His son was standing outside, his side facing him, with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. He had a pellet gun in one hand and a plastic compass in another.
Leila, his always breath-taking wife, was facing little James with her hands in the air in surrender. She was trying, and failing, to hide her own smile behind a pout. At her feet laid a drawn up treasure map and some fake, gold coins. "You ga' me, Matey!" she called to her son in a piratey drawl James had never heard her use before. "I surrenda'!"
"Arr!" little James grunted, drawing a big, plastic sword one might use for a party prop. "Yer walkin' thee plank!"
"No, no! No' dee plank!" Leila pleaded, her eyes growing as she bent to her knees. "Honor among thieves!"
"No honor, just death!" little James exclaimed, clearly enjoying himself.
"You'd kill yer own mum?" she threw out there, all traces of the smile now gone. Little James' own smile faltered as he considered this.
James Norrington had had enough. He slid open the glass doors, drawing his family's attention for the first time. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
Little James dropped his sword, gun and compass and quickly shot a look to his mom, who was standing and removing her pirate apparel.
"Oh, James, we were just playing," she told him loosely, trying to brush the incident away.
"Is this what you do when I'm not around?"
The two exchanged a worried glance. "It's not real, honey. It's just a game."
James grunted. "A game, huh? I'm sure it all started as a game with Jack, too." He turned and glared at his son. "Go to your room!"
Little James began to open his mouth to object, but the look his mother gave him told him better. He shut his mouth and ran inside.
Leila approached her husband now, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling against his cheek. "You're overreacting a bit, don't you think?"
James pulled away, not returning her affections. "If you wanted a pirate, you should have married a pirate."
She looked into his eyes now, sadness in her own. "But I wanted you. I married you. I love you."
He sighed, looking into her eyes as his heart softened once again for her. "I don't want our son being a pirate," he told her, feeling his words fall away.
"He's our son. Whatever he decides to do or be, we'll still love him, will we not?"
James sighed again, looking away from her. "Yes, of course, but that's not the point. I want him to want to be better. We have to raise him to be a good man. We can't let him decide on his own. Later, maybe, but not now."
"But it's just pretend. If you forbid all play of pirates, it makes it that more appealing," she reasoned.
She was right, and he knew it. "I-I just don't like it." She kissed him then, and he felt all reservation slip away from him.