Disclaimer: Drakken, Shego, and the henchmen aren't mine.
Shego stared into her son's green eyes. Filled with defiance, Indigo wouldn't drink his milk.
Shego had tried everything; force-feeding, waiting, prying his tiny mouth open, but nothing worked.
She set the bottle down and walked into the kitchen.
"Can you say 'Dada'?" Drakken asked Abbigail.
Abbi blinked and reached for the bottle in her father's hands. Still grinning, like she always did.
Drakken pulled the bottle back.
"Not until you say 'Dada'," he told her.
"Give it a rest, Drew," Shego sighed. "She's only four months old. When did you learn to talk?"
"Eight months," Drakken said pitifully.
"That explains so much," Shego replied with a wry smile. "Just feed her. At least she wants to eat."
Drakken glanced at the unattended Indigo who had picked up his own bottle and thrown it on the ground.
Shego sighed.
"Drink your milk you little brat!" she snapped.
Indigo looked like he was smirking. It was Abbi who began to cry at the sound of Shego's yelling.
"Shhh..." Drakken said, scooping up his daughter. "Mommy didn't mean to make you cry. Shhhh..."
Then the doorbell rang.
Shego stalked off to answer it, seeing as no one noticed with all the commotion.
To her surprise, all of the henchmen stood patiently at the door.
Shego imagined how unkempt she must look with baby spit up dribbling down her shirt.
"You look horrible!" one of the henchmen shouted.
"Why thank you," Shego said as she picked out which one said it. "Beat it."
"But Dr.D said Evil Activity would begin in nine months. But we waited for three more months, cuz he never called or nothin'," one justified.
Shego blinked skeptically, when she heard Indigo cry from the next room. She left, but the henchmen followed.
A/N: I began talking at eight months as well, and my friends know I don't shut up. Just a strange DYK?. Pointless, yet true. On to the next chapter!