"Get up! Get up! Get up!"

The bed dropped and rose uncomfortably under him. Only bothering to bite back a swear word because there was a three-year-old in the room, Casey rolled over and looked at his alarm clock.

6:49AM. Crap.

Groaning, Casey sat up and interrupted the chant of the bouncing little boy. "Alright, I'm up."

"Yay!" The child exclaimed, leaping up one last time and landing hard in a sitting position a few inches away from Casey. The bed transferred the motion, causing Casey to bounce about half an inch into the air before plopping back onto his bed. "Mommy said you need to get up or you'd be late for school."

Casey groaned. What had ever possessed him to take a job that required such an early wake-up? Not to mention working with kids day in and day out. Of course, shop and PE had been the only two classes he'd never been in danger of failing back when he'd been in school but...still. Who would've thought he'd ever be teaching them?

"Well, if I'm gonna be late for school then that means you'd be late for preschool. And we don't want that."

The look of sheer horror on the three-year-olds' face betrayed all-to-clearly his feelings about THAT. "No!" the child exclaimed. "Not late!"

"Well...you don't have to be." Casey responded, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. "Go ask mommy what you need to do to be ready. I'll be out in a minute."

The little red-head's enthusiasm shot right back up. "O.K.!" and with that, he leapt off the room and was out the door in a second. Casey shook his head and got to his feet. That kid was seriously the ultimate example of cute. Further evidenced when his head poked back through the doorway and he asked "Can I go see Uncle Don after preschool?"

"Don't see why not." Casey responded. "Better ask your mom to be sure though."

And he was off again.

Once dressed, Casey practically flew down the steps. He almost tripped when he reached the bottom, but caught himself easily enough as he shifted direction and started in the direction of the kitchen. As he entered the dining room, there was a squeal from the other side of the small room.

"Daddy!" the 7-year-old yelled, bolting across the room at him and leaping into the air at the last possible second. Casey snatched her in mid-jump and grabbed his daughter into a hug. "Hey kiddo. Whacha up to?"

"Setting the table. Then I gotta go clean out the cat box." The little girl wrinkled the nose at the thought of her other chore that morning. Casey sighed as he put her down. "Mom says that if I keep up like I have been, I may get off my extra chores duty early."

"That's great." Casey said. "In fact, that calls for a celebration. How 'bout we go see your Uncle Mike after school? Maybe get some pizza. Let's just hope he doesn't eat it all himself"

The girl's eyes shone. "Really?" She inquired, pleadingly.

"Really." Casey answered. "Well...if your mom says it's O.K."

The hopeful expression weakened. "Oh." She mumbled, waking across the room to return to her chore. "I know even after I quit being punished I'll still have to set the table...but it's just so...so...so..."

"So..." Casey prompted.

"So BOREING!" his daughter finally exclaimed as she set the last of the forks in place.

"Alyssa..." Casey began, having known this was coming. The truth was, having the kids do things, like setting the table and taking out the garbage, had been a source of small argument early on. Now, while Casey agreed it was for the best, it always irked him when the kids started complaining about it. because he usually agreed with their complaints. "We've already been over that. Just be thankful you'll be back to one chore a day when your mom and I agree you've learned your lesson."

The 7-year-old shot her father an accusing look. "I already have and you know it."

Casey shrugged. "Hey, you're just as boneheaded as me, and your mom knows it. So she knows she's gotta drill things into you pretty hard before it'll stick."

"Believe me." The girl said. "I'm DRILLED." Suddenly, she paused, and asked "did you just call me boneheaded?"

Casey, in an attempt to avoid the question, said "uhhh...I'm gonna go check on your mom now."

Alyssa rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right, sure, avoid the question, but I'll get you in the car!"

Casey hurried through the dining room into the kitchen. He loved his daughter more then just about anything. But he was seriously NOT looking forward to her pre teen and teen years. She had her mother's brain and his temper, a combination that had already proven dangerous. Like what had caused her punishment of extra chores...she'd smashed her old playhouse kitchen when she'd learned her brother wanted it for science experiments.

Just like her old man. Only...minus the baseball bat or hockey stick.

Both sports had become something of a family joke over the years. The kids teased along...though they didn't understand the back story behind it. And Casey and his wife agreed very strongly that it should stay that way.

As he entered the kitchen, Casey felt his breath catch in his chest. They'd been married for almost ten years, and he still couldn't get use to just how gorgeous she was. Slowly, and silently, he crossed the kitchen. He knew she knew he was coming, she couldn't have missed the racket in the other room, but they both enjoyed pretending.

As he came up to her, he put his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "What's a beautiful lady like you doing in my kitchen?" He teased.

"You married me. Remember?" she responded, also teasing.

"Oh yeah." Casey answered, turning his head and resting his cheek on her shoulder. "I remember now." And with that, he planted a kiss on her neck...burying his nose in her long red hair. He was rewarded first by a giggle...then by the shoulder jerking abruptly backwards then up and around, forcing him up and off.

"Later." April said firmly.

"Awwww..." Casey mock-protested as he backed away slightly. Casey grinned at his wife from a slight distance. "Why not now?"

"You know very well why not, Mr. Jones." April, formerly O'Neil, snapped.

Casey playfully crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you realize you take all the fun out of life, Mrs. Jones?"

A voice called from the dining room. "Do you realize that there were people in my class LAST YEAR more mature then the two of you?"

Alyssa's comment brought about a laugh. "You know." April began "she has a point."

"A very good point." Casey agreed. Wrapping his arms around his wife again, he added "But who needs maturity?"

Suddenly, the four-year-old boy walked into the kitchen. Without a word, he opened one of the bottom cabinet doors and started searching for something.

"Whacha looking for, sport?" Casey asked, turning around to watch his son and make sure he didn't completely crawl under the sink.

"The garbage bags." The boy stated mater-of-factly. "I 'membered that today's chore was taking out the trash...so I did it already. The can needs a new bag, right?"

"You walked all the way to the sidewalk by yourself?" April asked, worried.

The boy shook his head. "Uh-uh. No way. I left the garbage bag by the bottom step. I was gonna take it to the can on the way to preschool."

"That's...very...responsible of you, C.J."

The boy grinned. "Really? You mean it? I'm respon...respon..." suddenly, his grin faded as he struggled with the too-long word.

"Responsible." April understood "Yes, you are."

The grin returned and his eyes sparkled. "Could you tell Uncle Don? If he knows I'm 'sponsable he'll let me use his beakers! He said so!"

"Sure thing sport." Casey said, putting a hand on his boy's shoulder. "I'll tell Uncle Don today at school."

The boy's eyes danced as he shouted "Yay!" and practically leapt from the room. Casey and April looked at each other, but before any words could be exchanged, their son came bouncing back in. "Forgot the garbage bag." He stated, hurrying through and grabbing the required box from under the sink before bolting back out of the room.

"He so does not get that from me." Casey stated.