Challenge topic #58: Tag
Character(s): Maddie Fenton, Danny Fenton
Genre: Family
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.
I smile to myself when I finally hear the crashing noises on the stairs. Just on time, I think, setting a plate full of pancakes and sliced fruit at his place at the table. From the sound of it he hasn't missed more than the last couple of steps on the way down. I'm sure that if he were able to form actual words this early in the morning, he'd be using some language that I don't approve of. Instead, all I get out of him as he comes into the kitchen is an indistinct grumbling sound. It might be a 'good morning', but who can tell?
I ruffle his hair as he stumbles past me to fall into his chair. Then I lean back against the counter, watching him eat while I sip my coffee. He's slumped over the plate, leaning hard on one elbow while maneuvering the food into his mouth with his other hand. I never have figured out how he manages to clean his plate so thoroughly when he never opens his eyes. One of the small mysteries of my life, I suppose. He probably gets it from his father. I put my mug down long enough to slide a glass of milk into the path of his groping hand. He never remembers to pour it before he sits down. The milk is gone in a guzzled flash and he wipes his face with the back of his hand. I can only sigh. I've pretty much given up on the idea of table manners for the first meal of his day. Especially since I'm not one hundred percent sure that he's even awake. Mobile? Yes. Conscious? Undetermined.
He stands from his chair, stretching his arms up towards the ceiling with a mighty yawn. I can't help but join him. At least yawning keeps me from laughing at the belly button that peeks at me from under the raised hem of his t-shirt. He finally cracks his eyes and blinks at me, as if surprised to see that I'm here. I return his bemused smile. He heads out into the living room while I gather up his dishes. As soon as they're in the sink, I follow him to the door.
He's already grabbed his backpack from the foot of the stairs and is moving for the front door to head off to school. I guess he still hasn't noticed, then. Moving to intercept him, I stop him before he manages to turn the knob. Taking the bag from his hand, I grasp him firmly by the shoulders to pull him around to face me. Ignoring his confusion, I pull his shirt off, flip it right-side out, and drop it over his head again. He tugs it down into place with a look of pained embarrassment as I smooth my hand past his neck to tuck the tag inside his collar. The noise he makes as he kisses my cheek is more of a mumble than the earlier grumble, but I'm reasonably sure it translates to 'goodbye, Mom,' so I squeeze his hand when I pass him back his backpack.
I watch him all the way to the turn at the end of the block before I close the door. It's time to head on down to the lab to start my day. On the way down the stairs I smile to myself.
I love my boy.