August, 1954

In which James takes thing into his own hands.


"Hello!" Peggy called as she opened the door. "I'm home!"

"Shh!" James replied, running to the front door. He held out his arms for a hug and she scooped him up. "You gots to be very quiet, Mommy," he informed her quietly, then kissed her cheek.

"Have I?" she whispered back. She kissed him back. "Are we playing a game?"

"Nuh uh," he said. He pointed towards the living room, and she stepped in the direction he was indicating. "See?" he whispered. Steve was stretched out across the sofa, fast asleep. Michelle was on his chest, also asleep and drooling on his shirt. "They're sleeping," James added unnecessarily.

"I can see that," Peggy replied.

"Baby Marshmallow was crying very much today," James informed her in a slightly disapproving tone that suggested he would never do such a thing. "I think trying to make her better made Daddy tired."

"I believe you're right," Peggy agreed. She and Steve had both learned several useful tricks to soothe a crying baby when James had been small, but Michelle suffered from colic. It did seem to be winding down, as the doctor had assured them that she would grow out of it around four months, but last night had been a rough one with many tears and very little sleep in the Carter household. Evidently, her crying had carried on today. The methods that worked to soothe her changed with no discernable pattern, so if Steve was worn down to the point of falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon, it had evidently taken him quite some time to find the right one. Sometimes food worked, sometimes cuddling, sometimes warm cloths and sometimes massage, but one also had to factor in each of those methods in combination with dark or light, indoors or outdoors, standing, walking, sitting, silent or humming, and of course, the angle at which the baby was being held.

Today, it seemed lying down and massage had finally done the trick. Peggy imagined that the hand Steve had resting on their daughter's back had been rubbing in gentle circles until they both fell asleep. (Clockwise circles, of course. Michelle did not approve of anti-clockwise.)

"Well, let's let them keep sleeping, shall we?" Peggy said, stepping carefully across the floor around the toys James had been playing with quietly and in the direction of the kitchen.

"Marshmallow is very loud when she's awake," James agreed. "How comes babies cry so much?" he asked when Peggy chuckled.

"Because they're learning how to communicate," she told him. "They don't know how yet, so the only way to let us know they need something is to cry."

"Hmm."

"But it's getting better, though, isn't it?" The colic really was trailing off, for which Peggy imagined they were all very grateful. She was hopeful that last night and today might be a last hurrah.

"I guess," James allowed. "She doesn't cry so much as she used to."

Peggy stepped into the kitchen, thinking she would get started on dinner and leave Steve to catch some more rest where he could. "What's this?" she asked. There were breadcrumbs strewn across the counter, and a couple of mangled slices of bread lying next to an unwrapped loaf. Sticky streaks of purple and brown were smeared across the cabinets, directing her eyes to three plates sitting on the end of the counter. A sandwich and apple sat in the centre of each.

"I made supper!" James said proudly. "See? I made everybody peanut butter and jelly sammiches! And apples. 'Cause you gots to have something healthy too, but I dunno how to cook vegetables and I'm not allowed to use the knifes to open the oranges. So we havin' apples."

Peggy smiled warmly. "That was so thoughtful of you, love," she said, kissing his cheek.

He beamed. "Daddy seemed real tired, so I wanted to help. Is that okay?" he asked. "I know I'm not s'posed to do stuff in the kitchen by myself, but I thought maybe since I was helpin', it would be alright. I didn't use no knifes or glass or nothin' hot," he hurried to assure her, listing all the things in the kitchen that were off-limits.

"I think it's alright," she replied with a smile, touched by his kind gesture. "Since you were being so helpful." She looked around the kitchen. "It was a bit of a messy endeavor, though, wasn't it?" she asked, still smiling to let him know she wasn't upset.

"Yeah," James agreed. "I did try to clean it up," he said, pointing to one of the spots where a shredded paper towel was stuck to a blob of peanut butter on the side of the fridge. "But I figured maybe it needed soap and stuff, and the soap by the sink is empty."

"That's alright," Peggy said, glad that he was considerate enough to have made the effort, but also glad that Steve hadn't replaced the empty bottle of soap yet. She could only imagine the added mess of liquid dish soap all over the place. "Why don't we clean it up together?"

"Okay!" James agreed. He wriggled towards the floor and she set him down, then he held his arms out proudly, as if for inspection. "I did clean me off, though!" he said proudly. "See?"

"Very well done!" Peggy said. She did wonder what the state of the bathroom might be, but at least they weren't going to have to scrub peanut butter out of the carpet.

Peggy found a new bottle of soap and manned the sponge and water. James trotted along behind her with a tea towel, meticulously drying off the cleaned patches.

"How was your work today, Mommy?" he asked.

"It went very well, thank you."

"What did you do?"

"Well, there's a very bad man who we've been chasing for some time now. But today, all our planning came together, and I led a team out and we caught him." That was sanitizing their months-long chase of a black market arms developer somewhat, although once they'd tracked him down, the capture had turned out to be easier than expected. No one had even gotten shot.

"Good for you, Mommy!" James said proudly. He threw his arms around her legs and hugged her. "That's seventeen!"

"Seventeen what?" Peggy wondered.

"Seventeen whole bad guys you catched," he explained. "I been keepin' score since I learned how to count."

"You have?" Peggy asked. That was, well, it was a bit odd, but James did very much enjoy counting things since he'd learned how. And it was rather sweet.

"Uh huh. Seventeen is a lot," he said. "But I can count on more than just my fingers, so I can still count that high." He hugged her legs again. "That's very brave of you, Mommy, to catch so many bad guys."

Peggy melted a bit as he blinked those little hazel eyes up at her adoringly. "Thank you, love," she said softly, kneeling down to hug him back.

He hugged her tightly, then pulled back and grinned. "I think we should have cookies tonight after sammiches."

"You do, hmm?"

"Uh huh. To celebrate you catchin' the bad guy. We should even let you have two! 'Cause you did such a good job," he explained.

Peggy laughed. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."