"Adrien, get up," My dad says, as he pulls back the curtain. The morning sunshine streams through the window. I groan and pull the covers over my head, blocking out the sunlight.
"Adrien," my dad sits down on the bed, and I feel it creak gently. Father puts a warm hand on my back and even through the blanket his touch is loving. "Don't you want to spend time with your dad today?"
I peek my head out from underneath the covers. My father, Gabriel Agreste, is a world-famous fashion designer and he's very busy. If you look closely you can see the wrinkles on his face and the start of grey hair. But I love those features on my dad.
The grey is for creativity, when you have so many ideas zooming around your brain must be exhausting! And the wrinkles? Tape measures, pins, needles, this are just a few of Father's tools that he uses each day, peering closely at his creations so that that they look perfect for his paying customers.
"Okay, Dad," I slip out of bed, yawning, wearing my Ladybug t-shirt and blue shorts, for its summer and is to be spent outside. Father makes pancakes for breakfast, and having burning several he finally gets the hang of it. Well, a few "hang" on the ceiling, but we're laughing so hard, it doesn't matter.
As long as I'm with my dad, I'm happy. And today, its just me and my dad. After breakfast, we decide to head to the farmer's market and choose some fruit and vegetables.
Paris is a big city, so I hold my dad's hand tightly as we walk. His hands are callused and strong, signs of a good worker. I don't know for sure, but my father has sewn so many dresses, I'm sure he could tell you how many stitches a dress needs.
I skip besides my dad, happy to be out of the house. "Stay close, Adrien," Father says. My parents are protective but I know its because they love me.
When we get to the market, I stop skipping, my green eyes widening in wonder. People bustle everywhere, holding baked goods, pushing their shopping baskets.
So many smells to smell! Sweet and savory from the food stalls, flowers from the flower stalls, smells are everywhere!
Slowly we walk through the crowds of people, and I drink in the sights. At one of the stalls we stop at, a young girl with black hair in pigtails says hello to me, and I say hello back. She looks like the girl on my t-shirt, but we don't stay long, only to buy a loaf of bread.
Soon, we come to one of the fruit stalls that are selling watermelon. "Listen carefully, Adrien. Some day you'll be choosing what melon to pick with your son," he tells me.
Father snaps his fingers against the green melon, and listens carefully. He presses gently, to see if has any give. Finally, he selects a dark green one, and my mouth waters. The warm summer sun is nice, but at this time of day its hot and scorching.
Father buys us lemonade and we sit on a bench, away from the crowds down at the beach. Father has bought us straw hats to keep the sun off our heads, and he wears his at a jaunty angle. My just sits on my head. Its a bit small, but I like it.
Father cuts open the melon, slicing a couple of pieces. Handing a piece to me, he grins. "Remember to spit out the seeds, son. The farther to better."
I bite down into the juicy melon, the sweet red juice, dribbling down my chin. Its delicious and sweet, and it reminds me of picnics and bonfires out in our back garden.
I laugh heartily as Dad spits a seed out, the small seed flying. Dad is usual stern and serious, so its fun and funny to see him relaxed like this. Wanting to try myself, a bite down on my melon, coming up with some seeds in my mouth. Its not as easy as it first looks, spitting seeds that go the distance!
Father shows me how, and soon the seeds are flying. To soon it is time to go back home, and soon we are back to holding hands heading towards the Agreste mansion.
Back in my room, I draw and color my day, happily. These are moments I'll remember when I'm older.
But just because you grow older, doesn't mean you can't have fun times with your dad. Parents like to know their child's interests.
The summer breeze blows in the window, tangling the white curtains. Soon I finish my drawings and walk downstairs to Father's office.
Knocking on the door, I feel a bit nervous for a lot of important people spend their time here. Father stands tall and proud, designing something on his tablet. "Adrien, I'm very busy, but I'll give you one minute."
Its like the Father I spent time with this morning at the market has disappeared, the suit and tie back in place. "I drew our time at the market, Father. You can look at them when you have time."
When I get back upstairs, I feel a pang, like my dad is far away from me, even if he's right downstairs. I remember seeing the girl's father, the one I said hello too, handing out bread and baked goods at his stall.
Tall and well-built, he had a kind face, hidden beneath a mustache. I bet he gives good hugs. I rub my arms, then hug myself. I love hugs, even if I don't get many.
Still, I treasure anytime I spend with Father, and him spitting out seeds isn't something I'll forget anytime soon. Ir shows me that Father has a playful side, even if its rarely seen.
As I take my afternoon nap, dozing in the sun, I remember the good times Father and I went to the market.
Just Father and Me.
