A/N: Sorry that the Logan story is not up yet. It will be soon! (: Sorry for any typos, I was rushed. BTW, sorry about confusing chapter order. I'm trying to keep them chronological!

3. Hard Knock Life

The baby standing in the playpen was grinning and shaking the side rail. He was unaware that he'd been placed there to give mommy a well-earned break. He watched her move around with the bright yellow feather duster. Every time she flicked the feathers, his eyes would light up and he would explode into a fit of giggles.

She smiled at him and shook her head. He truly was her pride and joy. He was just so energetic. He looked disappointed when she finished dusting and reached for the furniture polish, until he watched her buff the surface. He squealed, as if she were doing it solely to entertain him.

"Whaz so funny, huh? Whaz so funny?" she asked in a silly voice, unable to resist him.

He responded with an elated gurgle, basking in the attention. "I'm almost done, then I'll play with you." He rocked back and forth excitedly. She would swear that he 'wagged his tail', sometimes, just like a frisky puppy.

She quickly straitened the sofa pillows and stacked the magazines. She rolled the vacuum cleaner out of the closet. He bounced up and down with glee. She knew he wanted to ride it. He liked to stand on top of it and hold it tight, as she ran it up and down the length of the room.

She looked at her bouncing baby boy and laughed. "Oh, all right. I'm coming for you." She lifted him from the playpen and set him by the upright. He climbed on instantly, and wrapped both chubby little arms around it.

She turned it on and it hummed to life. He giggled, and she never understood how he wasn't the least bit intimidated by the sound of the motor. She was grateful that she owned a quiet model. He delighted in the ride, and clapped his tiny hands when it ended, finally getting his fill after a dozen trips around.

Exhausted, Mrs. Garcia blew a stray strand of hair from her eyes and sighed. "What am I going to do with you, baby?"

The rambunctious boy leaned over on his head and attempted a somersault, veering sideways instead, and knocking his head on the leg of the coffee table. He cried hard, and she rubbed and kissed the spot tenderly. "Aw, my poor baby," she soothed.

He sprung away and raced to the bookshelves. In a split-second, the majority of the books were in a heap upon the floor.

"No, Carlos!" she cried. "Mommy is cleaning!"

He grinned at her, and continued to empty the shelf. She groaned and went for a cup of coffee. She could sure use the boost. When she returned, not only had the bookshelves been emptied, but the media tower as well. She took a long sip of the coffee, before setting it down on a coaster.

"What have you done Carlitos!" she said, clicking her tongue in dismay. He of course, ignored the question. She groaned at the mess, and leaned down to pick some of it up. That was the precise moment that he chose, to tug on an interesting-looking cord.

A lamp toppled over, and struck him on the top of the head. He wailed, sending the young mother into a panic. She rocked him against her chest, and checked for permanent damage. Other than a small lump, he seemed fine. He sniffled here and there, but continued to disrupt the living room, while she righted the lamp. Its bulb rattled from the fall, and she went to find a replacement. On her way back, she gasped. "My coffee!"

She raced into the room, just in time to hear a scraping sound, as Carlos pulled the coffee mug from the coaster. "No-NO! Carlos! Hot!" He slid it over the edge of the table, and it landed with a mighty splash. The contents spattered like wet paint across the ivory Berber carpet and left a brown stain.

"You're lucky you're not old enough to spank, Carlos!" she cried in exasperation. He looked at the stain and back to her with wide eyes. He pointed at it excitedly and jabbered on, quite animated in his story-telling.

"Yes! That is bad! Look at that mess! Naughty Carlos!" she said. He pouted, his warm brown eyes threatening to spill over. The look he gave her left her feeling a bit guilty, and she quickly retracted her words.

"I'll clean it up. You won't do that again." He looked up at her, seeking forgiveness, and she smiled. He smiled back.

She left for a rag to blot it up with, but shortly returned to an empty living room."Carlos?" she called warily. She flung the rag over the stain and stepped on it. What was he up to? She searched behind the sofa and drapes, typical hiding places of his, and turned up nothing.

"Carlos!" she called. He wasn't in the hallway, and he wasn't headed for the bathroom, thank goodness. Hmmmmm...

CRASH! She flew to the scene of the crime. The kitchen. There she discovered her little boy beneath a bag of flour, several boxes of cake mix, and a mound of pans. The floor was strewn with dog food pellets, from the toppled over bin, and he was flat on his back.

"My baby!" she screamed, falling to her knees. He was out cold. She ran for the phone, and fumbled with the buttons, to call an ambulance.

"Nine-One-One, may I help you?"

"Yes! My baby is unconscious, what do I do?!" she asked frantically.

"Has he been injured?"

"Yes! He pulled some pots and pans down on himself in the kitchen!"

"Is he burned?"

"No! They were in a cabinet!"

"Is he breathing?"

Her heart sank. Oh my God! Oh my God! She listened to his tiny chest for a heartbeat. It was strong and steady. She placed her ear to his bow mouth. His breath was sweet and warm.

"YES!" she shouted into the phone.

"Okay, is he bleeding?"

She checked him over. "NO!"

"Has he ever had a head injury, before?"

"Yes. Quite a few...you see he's a very active boy."

"Mmmm-hmmm. Okay, just take him to the nearest emergency room for observation. See if you can wake him now."

She gently shook her baby boy and he slowly opened his eyes. "Carlos! Baby!" she sobbed. "He's awake!" she shouted into the receiver.

"Now, sit him up and see if he can focus."

She sat him up and he swayed a bit. "How old is the child, ma'am? Old enough to speak?"

"He-He's turning one year, this weekend," she said sadly. "He doesn't talk yet."

"Spank?" he said, with big eyes, as he thrust out his lower lip.

"Carlos!" she squealed happily. "You spoke! No, mommy's not mad, mommy's happy!"

"Ma'am?"

"Oh! I'm sorry! He spoke his first word! He said 'spank'! Isn't that wonderful?!"

"That's terrific ma'am. Now get that child to ER right away."

"Oh! I will! Thank you!"

After a clean bill of health at the hospital, Mr. and Mrs. Garcia drove home with their baby boy, sound asleep in his car seat. He was smiling in his sleep, and twitching like a dreaming puppy. Mrs. Garcia watched him over her shoulder while her husband drove.

"I feel so guilty that he got hurt like that," she said sadly.

"Well, Carlos is a handful. I don't think that I could do any better with him," he said, taking her hand in his comfortingly.

"I just don't know what I would have done, if he had been seriously injured," she continued.

"He's a rough and tumble little guy. It's a hard-knock life for little fellas like him and there will injuries in his future. All we can do is watch out for him and love him with all of our heart. He made to his first birthday at least," he said with a grin. He knocked on the dashboard. She swatted at his arm, in playful rebuke.

Friends and family gathered in the back yard to celebrate the birth of the energetic one-year old , who had once again tempted fate, and lived to tell about it. When he could eventually speak that is.

"AH, Carlos! Look at all your gifts!" his papi said. Carlos clapped his pudgy hands in glee, knocking over a glass of punch from the table for the third time that day.

"I think he should open up my present first!" his aunt called out, laughing.

"Really? Okay," Mrs. Garcia said, mopping at the new stain. Aunt Christa handed him a colorful gift bag with a smile. He ripped at it and pulled out a cup, jabbering all the while, and studying it every which way. It wasn't just any old cup. It was a spill-proof sippy cup with his initials monogrammed on it. He liked the sports balls on it and the built-in straw. He wanted to drink out of it right away!

Aunt Christa washed and filled the cup while Carlos went to work on tearing into the remaining bags and packages. He was a bundle of energy from all the excitement, and his cousins offered to play with him and his plethora of new toys.

"That would be wonderful!" Mrs. Garcia said to the mob of children. She needed the break to get the food ready.

"Wait! Wait!" Mr. Garcia announced. "I have one more present for my son!"

The murmurs died down and everyone waited in anticipation. He handed the glowing baby boy a large square box. His little chubby hands got busy and he finally tugged open the flaps to reveal its contents.

His face lit up, as he pulled out a miniature hockey helmet.

Everyone ooohed, and ahhhed. "So he doesn't wind up with a metal plate in his head!" Mr. Garcia said. Everyone laughed. He placed the helmet on his son's head and strapped it under his chin. They waited to see if he would protest. He grinned, all four teeth showing and picked up his sippy cup. They all took photos.

"Good thinking, sweetheart," Mrs. Garcia said, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek.

He gave her a playful swat on the rump in return. "Spank!" Carlos shouted happily. Everyone roared with laughter, and Mrs. Garcia blushed for the cameras.

Happy Birthday Carlos! (:

Thanks for reading,

Crumpet