All familiar characters belong to Janet. The mistakes are mine alone.
The next morning, Stephanie and I stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor, each holding one of Olivia's hands in ours. The three of us took a few steps ... and then we let Olive take the lead and enter command central ahead of us.
The busy workspace silently screeched to a halt as our daughter showed her Uncles what she learned how to do, with Ammo and Gunner literally on her heels. We'll need all the watchdogs we can get. Knowing our days just got exponentially more active, Steph had chosen Olivia's clothes this morning with being able to spot her in a sea of black in mind. Our baby stunned the control room wearing little ruffled-bottomed glitter jeans, a bright pink ruffle-sleeved t-shirt, and matching pink sneakers with soles that light up in three different colors.
And just for a few inches of added height, Olive is sporting two pigtails placed high on her head and held by two pink pom pom-topped elastics. Day or night, we'll know where she is and be able to thwart any attempts at escape.
"We've got a baby on foot," Woody said, holding his hand to his ear like he was on a security detail for a VIP and communicating via earpiece. "I repeat ... baby on the move ... on foot."
It's accurate if not a bit dramatic. Olive wasted no time going from the safety of her parents, into the thick of the unknown wilds that the fifth floor provides.
"When the fuck did this happen?" Tank asked, stepping out of his office just in time to see his Goddaughter cruise by it.
"Last night," Steph answered. "Olive, with Gunny's help, got onto her feet and really wanted to remain on them. She spent the hours between letting us get more squashed food into her system ... and eventual sleep after a lengthy bath, practicing how to get around on her own."
Vince's body made what could be called a grimace. "Can't she give a guy some notice when she's about to go solo?"
"No," I answered. "If she didn't clue us in on when she planned to gain even more independence ... she wasn't going to inform any of you."
"Roger that, Boss," Ram said, "but what do we do now?"
"You help us make sure she's happy, amused, and doesn't bump her head on - or grab a hold of - anything," Steph told him.
"This is why I ordered her to stay an ankle-biter," Lester commented, scooping Olivia up after he purposely made himself a roadblock in front of her. "She's easier to protect when her mobility is limited. There's no hurry to grow up ... is there, Olive-pit?"
"Clearly, since you still haven't," Tank told him, bending his head to kiss Olivia's cheek. He paid for that affection by getting his face grabbed by two damp, baby vise grips. "And my streak is still going strong ... the ladies still prefer me over you."
He stole Olivia and our baby appeared smaller than she had only moments ago with Tank's torso as a backdrop. She let herself be contained for a grand total of two minutes and thirty three seconds, and then her entire body wiggled to get free.
"Hah!" Santos said to Tank, "the 'ladies' you claim prefer you ... obviously can't take more than five minutes in your presence."
"It's quality time over the quantity of it, Santos," he stated in a smug tone, as he put Olive on her feet.
"How do you guys get so much work done?" Steph asked them. "To the untrained eye, it looks like you spend all your time picking on, or competing with, each other. No, Olive, let's stick to just walking for now. Don't try to scale anything beyond parents or RangeUncles ... okay?"
I let my wife go so she could disengage our baby's fingers from the drawer pulls on a filing cabinet closest to Ram. Mo and Gunny were on alert, but as Steph reached them the expressions on both canine faces explained that they can only do so much.
Olivia 'Mama-ed' a response and redirected her attention and forward motion to Ella, who was coming out of the control room kitchen.
"Oh my," she said, after an awed look and a hug when she leaned down to child-height, "looks like our precious baby girl is getting to be a big girl."
"Yep, also a smart and persistent girl," Steph told her. "We were just telling her Uncles how Olive practiced walking all the way up until it was her bedtime just so she'd get it right and be able to show off today."
"What a job well done, Olivia," Ella said to our daughter. "You're already walking like a pro."
"Or like a drunken skip," Lester said, echoing my own thought from last night.
"Possibly a cowboy who's been on the trail too long," Woody added.
Steph had walked back to me, but she turned to silence the men with a glare and one raised eyebrow that she had worked to perfect as diligently as Olivia had with walking.
"Hey, Olive!" Steph called, so Olivia would hear her across the room where we could just spot the pom poms in her hair. "Your Uncles aren't playing very nice. You should come back to Mommy and Daddy so we can get to work and leave them alone to think about their actions."
"We're only messing with you, Steph," Lester admitted. "We thought we'd have more like a year before we had to form a mobile Army to keep tabs on the mini-Rangequeen. I have a bad feeling that this isn't the last time she throws us a curveball."
"Olive's our daughter," Steph reminded him, "you'll be getting off easy if a curveball is all she lobs at you."
Olivia didn't understand any of their conversation beyond her name and 'Mommy' and 'Daddy', but after a few seconds she did reappear from around the other side of Vince's office chair. She saw us watching her and with her pigtails swinging and her smile and sneakers lighting her way ... she ran straight back into my arms.
