June 21, 2034

"Hey, dad."

I turn from the fridge and find Freddie Jr. making his way to the island in the kitchen. The look on his face is a perfect example of how all Benson men wear their emotions right on their sleeve; there's no guess work needed to find out what we're feeling. Right now, my son is obviously upset about something. He takes a seat on the stool at the island and immediately props his head on his elbow.

"Hey, there, buddy," I greet cautiously, trying to decide between pressing him for information and letting him come to me naturally. At age eleven Fred has already discovered angst. I don't remember Carly or myself being this…emotional at that age, but then again, perspective makes a difference, I guess. These angst-y moments don't occur often, but when they do I tend to forget that I'm dealing with an eleven-year-old, not a pubescent teen. This instance was no different.

More importantly, everything about his current stance and expression says that this episode is about a girl. I can feel it.

"Rough day?" I ask. He shrugs in response, which is as good as a "yes." I give him a small smile and turn to the overheard cupboard next to the fridge, pulling out two glass tumblers. I set them in front of the pouting boy and go back to the fridge so I can pull out the perfect accompaniment to these father/son heart-to-hearts: chocolate milk. After I pour myself half a glass, I pour him the same amount, then look to him for approval. Fred looks at me with quirked eyebrows, then silently gives me a signal to pour him more until there's a full glass. Wow, this must be a real doozy.

"Alright," I say encouragingly. "Wanna talk about it?"

Fred takes sip of the milk, then sets the glass down on the counter.

"I think I'm in love, dad," he says. Even though I knew the issue was girl-related, actually hearing it from my eleven-year-old still take me aback. Suddenly, I'm struck by how much he looks like I did in that age. Though he has his mother's eyes and button nose, everything else, even down to his spiky hair, is a replica of me. And just like his father, he believes he's found love at a very young age.

"I can see why that would be depressing," I say with a smirk.

"Her name is Trista Barnes," he continues, ignoring my joke. "She's really pretty and super nice and always smells like sunscreen, so she reminds me of the beach."

I smile at my son's adoring description. "Is she at your day camp?"

Fred nods. "We're going on our trip to the zoo on Friday and I really want her to be in my group, so I thought I'd tell her that I love her before then so that she'd want to hang out with me. I told one of the counselors, Cindy, that I was in love and she said that I'm too young to know what love is, so I can't really be in love. But that's not true, right?" he asks with hopeful eyes. "Uncle Gibby says that you fell in love with mom when you were my age, so it can happen, can't it? Didn't you know you loved mom when you were eleven?"

I took a sip of my milk, then gave a slight nod. "Kind of, yeah."

Freddie Jr. looked confused. "Kind of?"

"Son," I begin, knowing that the conversation was going to get a little more complicated, "Love has many different definitions to many different people. Throughout your life, your personal definition of love is going to change often. When I was your age, my definition of love included wanting to hang out with that person all the time, feeling a need to defend them, and wanting to go to the movies with them, maybe even hold hands. At that time, I only wanted those things with your mother."

Fred nodded his understanding, and I continued. "Now, to other people, older people, my definition may have seemed a little immature, but to me it was the realest thing I've ever felt. Now, your definition right now may be wanting to spend quality time with them, whether it be at camp or at the zoo, and wanting to make them laugh and eat ice cream together."

"And play video games with them," Fred added. "I'd even let Trista win, and I don't even do that for my own sister!"

It's true, he can be quite competitive with Kailynn and rarely shows mercy towards her, even though she's only seven.

"Wow," I marvel, eyes wide. "You must really be into this girl!"

"I am," he confirms sadly. "But Cindy says-"

"Cindy doesn't have the right to tell you that your views on love are wrong, nor does anyone else," I interject firmly. "She may be one of your counselors and you absolutely have to respect her, but that doesn't give her the right to impose her opinions of what love is on you. That's for you to decide and you, alone."

The boy looks like he's really thinking about what I'm saying, then he looks up at me with questioning eyes. "So, when did your definition of love change?"

I smiled as I remembered the moment when my feelings grew even deeper. "When I was fifteen. Your mother, Aunt Sam, and I were taping something in our neighborhood for our webshow and while your mom was crossing the road, she was very close to getting hit by a taco truck. I ended up pushing your mother out of the way and taking the hit for her."

"YOU GOT HIT BY A TRUCK?" my son squealed in shock.

"Yup," I answered. "I was knocked unconscious for a few hours. When I woke up I was in the hospital with my leg and arm in a sling and my head wrapped in a bandage, but the first thing I asked was 'Where's Carly? Is she alright?' I thought that your mother may have been hurt as well and I was ready to hobble out of bed and rush to her side if she was. When they told me that she was fine, I immediately started to feel the pain I was in. And boy, was I in a lot of it. It was that moment when I realized that for me, love also meant a willingness to sacrifice your life and your safety for someone and doing anything to put their health before your own. There's not many people in this life that we would do that for. At that time, your mother was the only person I would give my life for. Despite the pain I was in, I knew that if I had to, I would do it all over again just to keep her safe. Your mom noticed, too. We even dated for a couple days because of it."

"Wait, you dated mom when you were fifteen?" he asked. "I thought mom said you got together when you were twenty-four at Uncle Spencer's wedding. Why did you and mom stop dating at all?"

"Well," I exhale, "it's a long story that involves Aunt Sam and…foreign bacon… you know what? It's not important."

"So," Fred begins, with great consideration, "you're saying that I'll never really know if I love Trista until I get hit by a truck?"

"NO!" I rush to clarify. "I'm just saying that, for me, that's when I learned just how much I was willing to sacrifice for your mom and, over time, you'll begin to figure out just what you're willing to do for the one you love. Trust me, you'll figure all of that out naturally. Please don't go wandering into traffic to test your feelings!"

Freddie Jr. slouches a little bit, looking entirely confused and frustrated. "Well, now I'm not so sure that I love Trista. I mean, I like her, but I don't know if I'd risk broken arms for her."

I smile at him sympathetically. "Don't worry. You may love her, or you may not. You don't have to have it all figured out right now. You've got plenty of time."

We both finish our milk and he props his head back on his elbow. "Love is confusing."

"It is," I nod.

"Girls are a lot of trouble."

"Yup. Funny thing is that they seem to think we're the mess. Have fun with that debate for the rest of your life."

His eyes grow wide and all I can do is laugh. I ruffle his hair just before he hops off the stool.

"Thanks, dad," he says with a small smile. "I'm gonna play online with Henry now."

He runs out of the kitchen and passes Carly as she enters, to whom he blurts a hurried greeting as rushes to his room. Carly turns to me with crossed arms and the best scowl she can muster, though I can tell she is trying to hide a smile.

"Oh, so us women are 'a lot of trouble,' are we?" she prompts.

"Oh, absolutely," I respond, unhesitant. "Even Kailynn's breaking hearts! Didn't she make a boy cry just last week?"

"Well," Carly approaches, "that had less to do with a broken heart and more to do with the sleeper hold she tried to put him in…which just has 'Sam' written all over it, by the way."

"Obviously," I agree as Carly makes her way to the fridge. "Still, you women have the power to throw us guys entirely off balance with just a flutter of your eyes. You don't call that trouble?"

She shrugs as she pulls out the pitcher of lemonade and grabs a glass from the cupboard.

"But we're worth the trouble, right?"

I grab my empty glass off the counter, place it in the sink, and swiftly turn to kiss her forehead.

"Without a doubt."

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read! For those who have been reading along: thanks for your patience! The past week has been a busy one, so this one-shot took a little longer to post than normal. I hope you all enjoyed it!

There are only two more chapters left! I hope to finish them by the beginning of next week. Fingers and toes crossed!

Hope you're all doing well! Please review, if you wish!

Hollaatchyagirl,

Phunky