After I finish loading the dishwasher and start it running, I wipe the table off and lob the washcloth into the sink. Donna will be happy when she gets home and sees that the kitchen is clean. Now, if I can get Lulu down for a nap, I can get a couple hours of reading in.

Speaking of Lulu, it's awfully quiet. My heart gives a little lurch. It's not usually this quiet when she's playing with her dollhouse. Normally there is a running commentary of all the activities that the dolls are undertaking.

My heart moves to my throat, when I pop my head in her room and she's not there. The Daddy doll is standing at the sink, and the Mommy Doll is laying across the room, a testament to the fact that Lulu is less than thrilled at the amount of time Donna's been gone, but neither the little girl doll or my daughter are in her room.

"Lulu!" I call, quickly making my way down the hall. In the bathroom I find the dolly laying on the floor, and one of the drawers open, but still no Lulu.

My heart is pounding as I race towards the den. She has to be in the apartment. Chip and Mark would never let her get out the front door.

"Lulu!" I call again, my voice rising frantically as I make my way towards my room. Where is she?

She's not here. I've looked everywhere. My God. I feel like I'm going to pass out. I have to find her. I push my back against the wall so I can breathe, drawing in a shaky breath.

Then I have a moment of clarity. I haven't looked everywhere. I drop to the floor to look under the bed and happen to glance to my left. That's when I notice a pair of little feet behind my bathroom door.

Oh thank god. "Lulu! I found you." I call out in a happy voice that hopefully hides how my heart is racing.

She doesn't move, so I get up and walk into the bathroom, opening the door carefully so that it doesn't hit her or pinch her fingers. I peek around the door, but the 'gotcha!' I was planning on shouting dies on my lips when I see what she's done.

She's drawing a huge mural of scribbles and shapes on the wall.

"LEONORA MOSS LYMAN!" I bellow, stunned to catch her in the act of naughtiness that she was obviously trying to keep me from discovering.

Her eyes, wide as saucers, quickly fill with tears, and her lip pops out into a split second pout before she bursts into sobs.

"Oh no, baby, no. Daddy didn't mean to yell. Don't cry. It's okay." I scoop her up to comfort her, as the bath crayons fall from her hands.

The bath crayons that Zoey and Charlie gave her. The bath crayons that Donna hates. The bath crayons that only belong in the bathtub, as we remind her every time we let her use them. The little scamp knew exactly what she was doing. She knew she wasn't allowed to play with them and she came in here to try to get away with something.

Damn it. I'm going to have to discipline her.

Holding her tightly to me, I rub her back soothingly, as I walk down the hallway to her room. I can almost feel the time out chair mocking me from her closet. I hate that little chair, with its cheery yellow paint.

Donna gives Lulu time-outs like they are going out of style. Plopping her in the chair and setting the little chicken shaped egg timer to two and half minutes with ease.

I usually make myself scarce. I can't stand to see my bundle of joy sitting there contemplating her misdeeds.

And the fact that we have a special chair and timer. Like we figured she'd be a juvenile delinquent and planned ahead for it! It just irks me.

But I made my case to Donna for getting rid of and she just laughed at me and told me I was overthinking it. At least she agreed to keep the chair in the closet, out of sight.

But she's not here now. And as much as I'd like to let this slide, I know I can't. This isn't a close call. Lulu's smart. She knows what she did was wrong. She needs to have consequences. And she needs to know that Donna isn't the only one who will deliver them.

Man, this sucks.

At least she's not crying anymore.

Leaving the time-out chair in the closet, I sit down in the oversized rocker with Lulu in my lap. She keeps her head buried in my shoulder and sighs deeply.

I know if I keep rubbing her back, and if I sang to her even just a little, she'd fall asleep. But if I do that, I'm not doing my job. Like Donna keeps telling me, parenting isn't always fun and games and I can't expect her to do all the hard parts.

So I pull her off my shoulder and look her in directly in the eyes.

"Lulu. What did you do?"

Her eyes drop from mine. Oh yeah, she knows she was naughty.

"Lulu?" I'm trying to keep my voice light. This isn't an interrogation. I don't want her to be scared of me. But we need to talk about this. She needs to know why she's being punished.

"I drew the picture."

"Where did you draw the picture?"

"Ondawall."

"Are you allowed to draw on the wall?"

"I sowwy." She offers quickly rather than admitting that she knows she's not allowed to draw on the wall. It works. My heart melts. I don't know how I'm going to do what I'm supposed to do.

"I know you are,sweetie. I love you." I give Lulu a quick hug to reassure both of us. "But . . . you do the crime, you do the time."

I stand up, still holding her in one arm, and open the closet door. Lulu's bottom lip juts out as I place the little yellow chair in the middle of the room and set her down in it.

"You need to sit here for two minutes and think about making better choices next time." I inform her using my best Donna impersonation.

I set the time for two minutes but I refuse to add the 30 seconds like Donna would. The rule is one minute per year. She's not three yet and I'm not counting fractions.

Then I leave the room.

That's the hardest part. I want to stay in there and talk her through it. Make sure she's okay and that she knows I still love her.

But Donna says that it's hard to think when someone is talking at you non-stop about something and that a few minutes of quiet reflection won't hurt her.

Still, I stand just outside her doorway in case she starts to cry again or calls out for me.

But she doesn't. She sits there good as gold, whispering to herself, "only in the tub, only in the tub."

When the timer buzzes, she jumps out of the chair and runs to me.

"All done, Daddy! I good!"

"Yes, you are, angel! Now, let's clean up the picture before Mommy sees it, okay?"

"Okay!" She agrees. Which just reinforces my judgment that she understands it was wrong. If she didn't, she'd want Donna to see it.

I grab a bowl of hot water and two washcloths and we march into the bathroom. We each take a washcloth and Lulu copies me as I start to scrub.

"Clean up, clean up, everybody, everywhere, clean up, clean up, everybody do your share." She sings one of the songs Nicole taught her as she works, and luckily within a couple minutes the wall is completely devoid of any evidence.

"Good job, baby girl. Let's go read some stories, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy!"

She takes my hand and skips down the hall. Happy as can be. I'm having a little whiplash, from all of this, but she seems to be taking it in stride.

Lulu grabs "I'll Love You Forever" off the bookshelf. How the hell am I supposed to read that without crying right now?

But when she hands it to me and climbs into my lap to snuggle into my arms, there's no way I'd ever say no.

I'm proud of myself for making it to the last page in one piece, but my voice cracks a little at the end.

"I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."

Lulu's eyes flutter back open and she gives me a little smile, so I sing the last verse again looking right into her eyes. I hope she never forgets this moment, even if she can't remember it.

Her eyes close again. So I sit for a few moments, never wanting this to end. But life doesn't allow for that, and it's better if she gets a real nap in her bed, so I stand up and lay her down in the crib.

But now I'm in no mood to read briefing books about mundane topics. There is something I need to do. And now is a good time to do it.

. . . .

Once I have the camera all set up, I sit down in the chair in my bedroom and stare into the lens.

The red light is mocking me. But eventually I pull myself together enough to start speaking.

"So, um, I thought it was a good time for another one of these little talks. Your Mom's out on the campaign trail today, so it's just you and me and you're taking a nap right now.

Whenever I make these videos it makes your Mom cry. She doesn't like thinking about that fact that someday I'll be gone and this will be all you have left. I admit, it is kinda morbid. And I don't like making her cry. I hope that we have a long, long time together, and you'll be an adult long before you ever see these, but I still worry sometimes, and I want to give you everything I possibly can. So this is the compromise, I make these tapes when your Mom is out of town so she doesn't have to think about it.

Speaking of crying. I made you cry today. I had to discipline you and you cried. God, it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Don't do it again, okay? Just be my perfect little angel and never do anything wrong.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that. Hopefully by the time you see this you'll be able to laugh and I won't have given you a complex. Maybe I should just erase that part later.

Anyway, you drew on the walls with crayons. And from the devilish look in your eyes and the fact that you did it behind the door, I'm pretty sure you knew it was wrong. I don't know if you were testing me or what. The parenting books say it's pretty common around two or three for children to test the waters. To see if their parents will set boundaries and enforce them. To see if they'll still love them if they aren't perfect.

Well, you're perfect to me Lulu. But you're still a human being. You're going to make mistakes. You're going to have regrets. You're going to make choices that end up not being the best ones. But no matter what, I'm going to love you. I don't want you to ever wonder about that. So I'm going to tell you all the time. By the time you're a teenager, you're going to be sick of hearing it. But I'm still gonna tell you. Probably in front of your friends."

I pause a little and take a deep breath.

"I love you Lulu. I love you so incredibly much. And Donna, I love you too. I wish I could be with you both right now."

I have to turn off the tape for a minute. I don't want them to see me all sad and broken down. If they ever need these tapes because I'm not with them, I want it to be something that makes them feel better, not worse. And I definitely don't want them to see me crying.

. . . . . .

"I see it, Daddy!" Lulu demands, when my phone bings and I pull it out to look at the text.

"It's from Mommy. She'll be here in about 45 minutes." I show her the text, even though she can't read it.

"Yay!" She responds after looking at it carefully.

"Most definitely, yay!" I agree. "Do you want to help me start dinner?"

"Uh huh."

"Was that a yes?"

"Yes, Daddy. I help."

"Great!"

Lulu runs into the kitchen and then pushes a chair to the sink. She's helped enough, she knows what comes first.

"Wash your hands!" She instructs me in a voice so much like Donna's I can't help but grin. I'm pretty used to being bossed around by the women in my life.

When we're done with that, I pick Lulu up under the arms and move her and the chair back to the table. It would completely defeat the purpose to let her touch the chair now that her hands are clean.

"Stay put." I tell her as I gather supplies and quickly rewash my hands. She's very obedient, and it only takes a minute to set her up with a bowl and a head of lettuce to pull apart for a salad.

While she's busy doing that, I turn the oven on to preheat and pull a box of garlic toast out of the freezer. For her next job, she can place them on a tray.

When the oven lets me know it's ready, I slide the lasagna in. I'm glad I remembered to take it out of the freezer this morning. We've eaten enough take out this past week. I think Donna will be really glad to have a homemade meal.

"I'm a helper, I'm a helper, yes I am, yes I am. I can help make dinner. I can help make dinner. So can you. So can you."

Lulu serenades me while we work and then encourages me to sing along. By the time all the veggies are chopped for the salad and everything is ready to go, I'm pretty sick of the song but she's still going strong. Still, after the trouble earlier, I'm just glad we're both in a good mood, I don't want it it end.

So I grab a brownie mix and another bowl.

Lulu does a great job greasing the pan while I stir the eggs, water, and oil into the mix. Then she helps me scoop it out of the bowl and smooth it out. Then we sprinkle some mini m&ms on top. I set the pan off to the side so that it can go in as soon as dinner's done. We can celebrate Donna's return with brownie sundaes.

The kitchen is kind of a mess again and so is Lulu. This adulting thing is never ending!

Lulu notices the brownie batter on her fingers about the same time I do and is about to lick them off.

"Ew. Let's wash your hands, sweetie. It's not really safe to eat that."

Once her hands are clean, I hand her a washcloth and let her go at the table while I get the mixing bowl and cutting board into the sink. They can wait until after dinner to get washed.

I'm picking up the last of the stray veggies from the floor when I hear the front door open and Donna wishing the agents a good night.

"Mommy's home!" I exclaim.

Lulu's face lights up and she slides off the chair. "Mama! Mama!"

We both run into the living room where Donna is setting down her briefcase.

"Hey you guys! I'm glad to be home. Did you have a good day?"