December 2015
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"It's perfect," Mike announced as he held up a box containing a giraffe riding toy with a removable handle that allowed an adult to push it without bending over.
Whitney barely glanced at her father before turning her attention back to the cans of formula that were, after all, the reason that they were here. Debbie had tipped Mike and Christine off to the fact that this store occasionally stocked hypoallergenic formula and now Mike made a point of coming by every few days. After seven months, he was damn tired of cleaning up vomit, baby or otherwise. "Mom will never go for it. Remember what she said when you brought home the jumperoo?"
"It's not that big." Mike frowned at the toy he was holding. Christine had been less than thrilled when he arrived home with the jumperoo, which came in a box the size of a small car, but she got over her annoyance once Kaito figured out how the thing worked. Some days he would jump for a full thirty minutes, giving Christine a dedicated chunk of time to cook dinner or clean the kitchen or even take a shower.
Whitney rolled her eyes. "It's your funeral."
Mike considered his options. Kaito would love the giraffe, of course, just like he adored the swing and the jumperoo and the walker and the play gym (okay, so maybe the kid did have a lot of toys). He could say it was for Christmas, but Christine had already told him no more gifts, assuring him that all three kids had plenty, a statement which Mike knew perfectly well was a nice way of telling him that he was spoiling them. It was hard, though. After losing Lucas and not knowing whether Whitney and Shaylyn were alive for months, all he wanted to do was make the girls happy. And if a small purchase here and there made them smile, well, Mike didn't see the harm.
And if to prove his point, Whitney suddenly held up a wooden box full of some sort of beads and thread. "Hey, Dad, look, it's a friendship bracelet kit. Shay would love it."
Mike waffled for all of half a second. "Okay, throw it in the cart."
Decision made, he added the giraffe as well as a couple cans of formula, despite it being a brand that Kaito disliked, not wanting to take the risk of running out. Now that he was seven months, Kaito was eating some solid foods, but his main food source was still formula, something that Rios and Christine (who Mike trusted far more when it came to the kids, even if Rios was doing an apprenticeship with a pediatrician in his spare time) both agreed was age appropriate. "Seriously Dad? You know she's going to be pissed."
"Who said it was for Kaito?" Mike asked as he pushed the cart towards the front of the small store.
"Uh-huh." Whitney crossed her arms, tapping her foot, before she smiled. "I won't tell her you bought if you let me go to the movies with Sean Abbott tomorrow night."
"Not a chance in hell."
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"It's for Frankie," Mike explained, ignoring his wife's skeptical look as he set his purchases, including the giraffe, down on the table.
"You bought a riding toy for Frankie without checking with Danny and Kara?" Christine asked, picking up the formula with a slight frown. "None of the soy-based brand?"
"No, although Tex says there is a shipment coming in this week," Mike replied. Sending Tex over to chat up the owner of the small store had been stroke of genius. If anyone could sweet-talk their way into preferential treatment in the form of advance notice when the soy formula would be arriving, it was Tex. Mike looked up to find Christine waiting, arms crossed, the giraffe on the table between then. "I'll text Danny right now. He won't mind."
"Of course he won't," Christine replied. "But he'll end up in the doghouse for agreeing to it without checking with his wife. Text Kara instead."
Before Mike could respond, Shaylyn shuffled into the kitchen, Kaito holding onto her hands, his feet on top of hers. "Look! He's walking."
Mike and Christine exchanged amused glances. Kaito was barely crawling and certainly nowhere near walking, but Shaylyn looked so proud of her brother than neither of them was willing to pop her bubble. Mike leaned down to press a kiss to Shaylyn's forehead before sweeping Kaito up in his arms, tossing the child into the air despite knowing how nervous it made Christine, reveling in the sound of the boy's gurgling laughter. "What a big boy you are Mr. Kaito!"
"Can I go to Ashley's house for dinner?" Shaylyn asked. At Mike's confused glance – Tom wasn't the best cook – she added, "Sasha's making lasagna."
"Sure, honey, but don't be too late. School tomorrow," Christine replied, turning back to the stove, stirring something that looked like chop suey – in other words, leftovers.
Shaylyn was pulling on her jacket when Mike recalled what else he bought at the store. "Oh, hey, take this. Ashley is into those bracelets too, right?"
"This is awesome! Thanks Dad!" With a kiss to his cheek, Shaylyn was gone.
Christine waited until the door was closed. "Remember what I said about buying them so many gifts? They love you, Mike. They're happy to be back together. You don't need to atone for anything."
Mike fought the urge to make a joke as he tossed Kaito in the air again. It was one of the things that their family therapist frowned upon, Mike's rather irreverent sense of humor. "They went through so much and it's such a little thing, Christine. Besides, it helps boost the economy. The government is one of the few employers paying people in cash right now. The more we spend those greenbacks, the faster the country gets back on its feet."
Knowing better than to toss Kaito again unless he wanted to be covered in puke, Mike sat at the table, putting Kaito in his high chair where the child immediately reaching for the bright yellow toy that took up two-thirds of the space. Christine sighed. "Make sure to hide that somewhere he can't find it."
"Yes, ma'am."
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"Michael Joseph Slattery!"
Mike came awake with a jerk, realizing only as he was rolling to his feet that he was on the couch, rather than his bunk at sea, and that the voice calling him was not the OOD, but his wife. "I'm up."
It took a moment for him to figure out why Christine was pointing at the Christmas tree, her face a combination of exasperation and incredulity. There, surrounded by a sea of shredded wrapping paper, cardboard, and toys, sat a very happy Kaito. The infant gurgled and smiled at his parents as he gummed at a piece of festive wrapping paper, extremely happy with the progress he had made in dismantling the gifts while his father snoozed three feet away.
"Fuc...oh." Mike tried to think of something to say. "Sorry?"
"Christmas is in two days, Mike! Two days! I spent hours shopping and wrapping and getting everything ready and now it's all destroyed." Christine picked up a piece of torn and gummed packaging, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. "Some of these presents are ruined. And there's no time to buy new ones. Tonight we have the girls' holiday concert and tomorrow we're both working and everything will be closed by the time we get out. We won't have any gifts to take to the party at Danny and Kara's house."
"Hey." Mike wrapped his arms around his wife, cutting off her rambling. "This is my fault. I'll fix it. You focus on the stuff you need to get done."
Christine leaned her head against his shoulder. "How in the world are you going to take care of all of that?"
Mike snorted, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "What's the point of having an assistant if you can't make them do menial tasks?"
Leaning back, Christine narrowed her eyes. "That's not really an appropriate use of governmental resources."
Ignoring her, Mike turned his attention to the phone. "McMahon? Good, just the person I was looking for."
His ever ready assistant, an eighteen-year-old kid who acted more like she was fifty, running Mike and Tom's office with an iron fist, didn't hesitate. "What can I help you with, sir?"
With a huff and a roll of her eyes, Christine gathered up Kaito and left the room. "You know that bag in my office?"
"The one full of gifts?" McMahon confirmed and Mike heard the shuffle of paper, no doubt the woman taking notes.
"Yup, that one." Mike hesitated, making sure the door was closed behind her before he spoke again. "Take it over to the Greens' house. Once you do that I need you to come wrap some things here. Christine and I are heading out to the girls' concert in about thirty minutes so I will leave everything on the kitchen table."
"No problem, sir, I'll make sure it is taken care of."
Hanging up, Mike knelt down before the tree and began picking up shredded and crumbled paper, whistling an off-key tune.
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"He's doing it by himself!" Shaylyn squealed as Kaito managed, through sheer luck, to move the giraffe slightly forward on the rug. As a reward, she took him for another spin around the room, stopping twice when the rather uncoordinated child almost took a header.
"He does like it," Christine said, slightly grudgingly but with an indulgent smile. "It was lucky that the store had another one for you to give Frankie. Did Leah have trouble replacing any of the other gifts Kaito got into?"
"Not at all, that kid is a miracle worker," Mike replied from his position lounging on the couch. It was true, too. No matter how crazy the request, McMahon figured out a way to handle it. The kid was smart and resourceful – not unlike a female version of Tex now that Mike thought about it.
"Are you girls happy with your gifts?" Christine asked. Kaito crawled off the giraffe and headed towards his mother, most likely ready for his mid-morning bottle.
"My favorite is the guitar. Uncle Rick promised to teach me and Ashley how to play." Shaylyn stopped, frowning slightly. "Assuming that Ashley got a guitar too."
"She did," Mike confirmed, having discussed this particular gift with Tom and Rick prior to making the purchase. With any of the other guys, Mike would have worried about the girls learning more about cursing than guitars, but not with Miller. If anything, the guy was overly respectful, so uncomfortable calling Christine by her given name – a request that she had made repeatedly – that the two finally compromised on "Mrs. S."
"And you, missy?" Christine asked Whitney.
"This is a pretty cool camera," Whitney responded, which was about as excited as she got about anything these days. "I bet Kat will like it too. She's really into photography. She even set up her own black room in the cellar at Andrea's house."
Mike relaxed, relieved that the present had gone over well. It wasn't difficult to find things that Whitney liked – clothes, makeup, and movies passes were pretty much sure bets – but finding something that would keep her too occupied to spend all of her time with the Abbott boy was a bit more of a challenge.
"Although I wouldn't have minded some earrings like Mom," Whitney continued. "Can I borrow those sometime?"
"No."
Mike and Christine spoke simultaneously. Beaming, Christine reached over to give Mike a brief kiss. As he admired the flash from the diamond studs, Mike made a mental note to thank Andrea for the suggestion. He had wanted to do something special for Christine this Christmas – their first Christmas back together, the first time they would be celebrating the holiday since Lucas's death – and from the way Christine's eyes lit up when she opened the box, he was pretty sure he succeeded. "Those belong to your mother."
"Now that we're done with gifts, it's time to eat," Christine interjected, plopping Kaito on Mike's lap. "You girls clean up the paper while I finish lunch."
Shaylyn bounced up. "I'll help you, Mom."
With a sigh, Whitney began gathering up the discarded wrapping paper and packaging, stuffing it into the plastic bag Mike helpfully pulled from under the couch. When she reached the riding giraffe, Whitney turned to Mike with a suspicious look. "You know, I went by the store with Tex and Kat last week and they were out of these giraffes."
Mike shrugged. "They must have re-stocked."
Whitney shook her head, and Mike saw a hint of a smirk. "That's your story? Do you think Mom would buy it? I know that you planned that little stunt with Kaito."
Mike raised an eyebrow at his oldest daughter. "Do you have a point?"
"Nope." Whitney's smirk turned into a full-blown grin. "Just that I'm impressed. Well played, Dad. Well played."
