Disclaimer: Not mine, not that I wouldn't mind Josh, though…I've been good!

Notes: Here it is, finally! I hope you like it; I'm not so sure about this one, so let me know…feedback would be a lovely present!

Just to make this clear: this story is an alternate "25 Things" universe, where Josh beat his cancer and is therefore still alive, per requests.

MORE COMING SOON!

Original Notes: I've decided to do each one chronicling a day/event in JJ's life, usually from one perspective. The title will begin with his age, so you'll have a frame of reference. This one is sweet and simple; it will get a bit angsty as the years go on, I think. I'll try not to make it too bad! I can't seem to keep away from it, though. And the letter will resurface, I promise…I couldn't do this universe in such a terse format, unless I'd tried describing photographs or something, which I didn't want to do.

"Daddy?"

He's shrinking back into the chair, trying not to look worried. "Don't worry, Jay. It'll be fine." He bobs his head in a heartbreaking little nod, and we wait together for the doctor.

He's getting glasses, and, according to Donna, is rather nervous, although he tries to hide it. Donna designated the appointment with the ophthalmologist a "Daddy duty," just like his first real haircut, dentist appointment, and swimming lesson. She claims that he feels especially secure when I'm there for these landmarks, but I think she just can't handle it. Now, don't misunderstand. My wife can handle anything she sets her mind to; I've never met a stronger woman. Except when it comes to some things with JJ. She gets all…weepy. Emotional. So I go. I don't mind, though. I love "Daddy moments," (although I wouldn't admit it to just anyone, because…)

I almost didn't have any.

The doctor comes in. He's young, and cheerful, and immediately teases a laugh or two out of JJ, who loses his shyness quickly. The next half-hour passes in a whirl of lights, lenses, and eye charts. When JJ confidently begins reading his letters, to the doctor's astonishment, I feel this warm swell of pride in my chest. I'm so distracted that the only words I hear as the doctor leaves are "eye drops."

I loathe eye drops. Donna practically has to put mine in when I get them, because I just can't stand them. I hate having things in my eye. What if he takes after me? I can't deal with this. Donna has to deal with the physical pain things. I'm really not good at this, not really. I mean, I won't not do anything for him, I just…take a while to get over it. I'm sitting in my chair hyperventilating, practically, when the doctor touches me on the shoulder. "Mr. Lyman? We're all done. He just needs to sit for a bit and let the drops take effect, and I'll come and take a look, and you two can be on your way."

I nod my thanks, feeling somewhat embarrassed. My five year-old handles eye drops better than I handle the idea of him having them! What does that say about me, exactly?

I'm not sure I want to think about that too hard.

After leaving the doctor's he gets quiet. He approaches LensCrafters with less enthusiasm than I would have thought; after all, he gets to pick out his own glasses, and things like that always make him feel adult and important. He stays relatively quiet through getting his glasses, which, I have to say, look pretty darn cute. In the manly Lyman way, of course. As I pay, he softly asks me a question:

"Daddy, are they still gonna like me at school?"

I look at him quickly, astonished. "What do you mean, Jay?"

"Do I look silly? Derek said only dorks wear glasses."

My jaw clenches. Who the heck is this little punk? "You are absolutely, positively not a dork. You know who's a dork? Derek, for saying those things."

"But…"

All of a sudden I understand why Donna asked me to go with him today. I'm guessing she didn't know about the thing with Derek, 'cause I would have heard about it, along with the entire DC area, but she knew he wouldn't take the truth about this from anyone but me. But…can a kid really have manhood issues at five? I guess JJ is, which just goes to show how, you know, advanced he is. Not that that's really a good thing in this case, but… He's staring down at the floor, scuffing his toe against the carpet. I crouch down so I'm at his eye level. "Listen, JJ, I absolutely promise that people will still like you. You know, some of the greatest Americans wore glasses. Ben Franklin, for one. Your Uncle Jed. You don't think he's a dork, do you?" He shakes his head no. "And Uncle Sam does…" Wait. I don't think Sam of the penny monologue will help much here. Who else? Ah…CJ! Yes! "Your Aunt CJ does, and she's pretty cool, right?"

He smiles. "She takes me out for ice cream."

I'm not being maneuvered, am I? "You trying to tell me something, kiddo?" I arch an eyebrow at him, and he giggles, and tugs at my hand.

Score one for the junior political operative.

I follow him out the door, a dopey grin pasted on my face.

Score one for Daddy duties.