He finally unpacks the last box, in his bedroom. He had given her the master bedroom, the one with the bathroom, and the humongous closet. He had taken the room at the other end of the hall. It was large, and close to the baby's room. He tosses the last pillow onto his bed, and wonders down the hall to find her. She had unpacked all of her things in record time. It was obvious that she was a pro at packing, and unpacking. After all, it had only taken her two hours to pack up everything in her entire apartment. It took him eight. The last time he had seen her she was in the nursery, unpacking Emmy's things. That had been an hour ago, he hadn't heard a peep from her since. He heads down the hall.
Two doors away he finds the nursery. The light is on. He stands in the doorway. He finds that everything is in it's place. He smiles when he sees her. She lies on the rug, in the center of the room. The baby rests on her chest. He watches as her chest rises and falls. He taps her barefoot with his boot.
"Zi, wake up."
Her eyes open, and look up at him. She places her hands on her chest, and sits up. She skillfully rises to her feet. She takes a few steps to the crib. She places the sleeping baby inside.
"So did you have a good nap?"
"I guess."
"Hungry?"
"Yes," she nods.
"Pizza?"
"That will work."
"It will have to, since we have no food in the cabinet."
"Should I call, or are you going to."
"I'll call. You want the usual."
She nods.
Half an hour later they sit in the kitchen, at the table, eating pizza off paper towels. He swallows, and then asks.
"How is it that everything is unpacked, but the dishes?"
"We decided that they weren't that important."
"Why did we decide that?" he wonders.
"Because Emmy had just fallen asleep, and we didn't want to wake her up, by banging dishes, and pots, and pans."
"I can't believe that you fell asleep."
"I wasn't asleep, I was just resting my eyes."
"Ziva, you were snoring."
"I was not," she argues.
"Ok, you weren't, but you were asleep."
"I guess that I must have dozed off, for a minute."
"Probably because you refused to sleep any, last night. You don't have to get up with her every time. I am more than willing to get up with her."
"You get cranky."
"I'll get over it."
"I do not like to deal with you when you're cranky."
"And why is that, exactly?"
"Because then it's like having to take care of two children."
"Ow, that hurt."
"It's the truth."
"Yes, and sometimes the truth hurts."
"We need to go grocery shopping," she points out.
"Tonight?" he responds with a sense of alarm, in his voice.
"No. It can wait, until tomorrow. I can go, you don't have to come with me."
"Why don't you get up and go for a run? I'll wake up with the baby, and..."
"Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"No, I just thought you'd like to go for a run."
"Ok. When I get back, I'll change, and go to the store."
"We're going to need more diapers."
"I know."
"How can something so small, poop, so much?"
"Are we really sitting around the dinner table, talking about poop?"
He smiles, "I guess that we are."
"You do realize that you haven't hooked up the TV yet, right?"
"Yes Ziva, I know."
"I just assumed that you would want to watch it."
"I do, but I'm too tired tonight, to worry about it."
"You don't know where you put all the wires, do you?"
"I think that I do."
"Think?"
"There are only like six unpacked boxes left, they can't be that hard to find."
"Six?" she furrows her brow.
"There are more than six?"
"There might only be six unopened ones in the house, but there are at least six more, in the garage."
"Boxes of what? I didn't think we had that much stuff."
"I don't," she responds.
"Oh, and I do?"
"You have a box an a half of toiletries. And there are three boxes of mismatched dishes. And a box of miscellaneous items. Those are all yours."
"Half of them are mine," he argues.
"I have a box of dishes, and a box of pots, and pans. The rest, the other ten, are yours."
"I can't possibly have that much stuff."
"You do."
"What could possibly be in there?"
"I don't know. I wasn't there, when you packed."
"Thanks by the way."
"For what?"
"Leaving me alone, to pack."
"You're upset about me leaving you alone to pack? I had Emmy with me, when I packed."
"It's not like she's that much of a..."
She cuts him off, "She wouldn't let me put her down. Do you know how hard it is to pack things, when you are carrying around a baby?""No. Ziva?"
"Huh?"
"Are we going to argue like this, everyday?"
Before she can answer, the baby starts crying. She rolls her eyes, and pushes her chair out. She walks past him, and races up the stairs, into the baby's room.