Author's Notes: No, I didn't abandon this story;) Enjoy the new chapter!
Moments
by Kristen Elizabeth
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!"
Grissom braced himself for thirty pounds of three year-old slamming into his legs as Rosalind shot down the hall and launched herself at her father.
He let his luggage lay where it landed, bent down and scooped his daughter up into his arms. "Hi, princess."
"Missed you, Daddy," Rosalind said, burying her face in his neck.
Right then, Grissom made a mental note not to commit himself to any more conferences that ran over two or three days long.
"I missed you, too." He set her down on the carpet. "Where's Mommy?"
"Right here." Sara came around the corner, one hand on the gentle swell of her stomach. "I was starting to get worried about you."
"Traffic," he explained. "I'm sorry, honey." Rosalind trailed behind him as he approached his wife and pulled into her a long kiss. "Were you this big when I left a week ago?" he asked when they broke apart.
Sara's eyes instantly narrowed. "There are about five hundred different, better ways you could have put that, Gil."
He frowned. "I just realized that."
"Daddy…" Rosalind tugged at his pants. "Gotta tell you."
"Tell me what, princess?"
She looked up at him, her little face deadly serious. "Mommy's tummy moves, Daddy."
"I know." Grissom met his wife's eye. "It's pretty neat, if you ask me."
"Why it move?"
Both parents looked at their overly-inquisitive offspring. Sara cleared her throat and glanced back at Grissom. "You want to field this one?" She pointed to the kitchen. "I've got dinner going on." She left after giving him another, softer kiss.
When she was gone, he blew out a breath. Another tug on his pants leg reminded him that his daughter had yet to get her answer.
He made a quick parental decision. "Rosalind, would you like to see the present Daddy brought you from New York?"
The birds and bees conversation was shelved for another day in, if Grissom had his way, the very far future.
His decision came back to haunt him two weeks later.
"Happy birthday, Greg!" Sara raised her glass of soda water to their young friend, for whom they were hosting a small, celebratory gathering. "Big 3-0 and still rockin'!"
Imitating her mother, Rosalind grasped her milk glass with both hands. "Happy berfday, Unca Greg."
Laughter erupted around the table. Greg reached out to bop the little girl's nose. "Thank you, sugar bug."
"Didn't we celebrate your thirtieth birthday last year, Greg?" Catherine asked with a small wink.
Nick snickered. "Haven't we celebrated your thirty-ninth for the past six years, Cath?"
Grissom held up a hand before war was declared. "Blow out your candles, Greg. We promise not to sing."
It took him all the air in his lungs to put out the candles. When they were finally out, he picked up the knife, cut out a slice and handed it to Warrick. "A little Sanders DNA?"
Warrick regarded the cake like he might a bomb. "Truly the gift that keeps on giving."
"You can thank me later." The birthday boy distributed pieces to the rest of the dinner party, but stopped just before Rosalind. "Can she have some?" he asked Sara.
"Definitely. In fact, give her extra icing," Sara replied, stroking her stomach. "The sugar shock will put her out like a light later."
He did just that, earning Rosalind's eternal love and devotion when he presented her with a plateful of frosting.
"What do you say, Rosalind?" Grissom prompted.
His daughter waved her spoon in the air like royalty. "Eveybody eat!" she ordered.
Catherine smiled proudly. "Couldn't have said that better myself."
When the cake was devoured, the presents were opened, and the rest of the party had gone home, Greg stuck around to help Grissom and Sara clean up. He was carrying a load of plates into the kitchen when a dark-haired blur ran straight towards him and circled his legs twice before darting off again.
He looked at the blur's mother. "You told me to give her the sugar!" he reminded her.
"Relax, Greggo. It's all part of my evil parenting plan. In ten minutes, she'll be putting herself to bed." Sara eased down onto the couch.
Greg left the dishes with Grissom and joined her on the sofa to watch Rosalind bounce around the room. "If we could somehow harness her power, we'd be able to pull doubles every day," he noted.
"Believe me, I've considered…" Sara stopped as Rosalind started trying to climb into her lap. "Careful, sweetie. Mommy won't have a lap for another four months." She set the little girl on the sofa instead and pushed herself back up. "Excuse me. Gil's spawn is sitting right on my bladder."
Greg was proud of himself; halfway through Sara's second pregnancy, hearing that sort of stuff didn't even faze him anymore.
"Unca Greg!" When her mother was gone, Rosalind fixed him with a blue stare. "Mommy's tummy moves!"
"Does it?" he asked, feigning surprise.
Her forehead crinkled. "Why?"
Greg swallowed.
Oh. Crap.
Sara snuck up behind her husband as he dried wine glasses and slipped her arms around his chest. "You make such a good house boy," she laughed. "I think I'll keep you on for awhile."
He set down the final glass and turned around. "Even though my contract is up at the end of the month?"
"That's right." Sara softly kissed the corner of his mouth. "What are we doing for our anniversary?"
"I was thinking…" He nuzzled the nape of her neck. "We could get a babysitter for the weekend and go away somewhere."
"Somewhere with a beach?" she asked, hopefully.
Grissom grinned. "Lake Mead, it is then."
Sara pulled back. "You're so funny, I can hardly stand it." She was about to make another, better suggestion when there was a shrill shriek from the living room. Before either of them could react, Rosalind bolted into the kitchen and hid behind her father.
"Princess." He tried twisting around to see her, but she clung to his legs. "What's wrong?"
"Matumgonhavalien!"
Her parents exchanged matching confused looks. Sara bent over as much as she could to see her daughter. "Sweetheart, Mommy and Daddy didn't understand that. Can you say it again?"
Greg jogged into the kitchen just then. "Okay, this totally isn't my fault and you can't get mad at me because it's my birthday."
Grissom gave him a look. "It's never good when you open with a disclaimer, Greg."
"She asked me why Sara's stomach moves!" He spread his hands, helplessly. "Do I look qualified to answer that question for a three year-old?"
"Oh god…" Sara rubbed her temple. "What did you tell her?" Greg mumbled something unintelligible. "Try that again." He repeated the word, only slightly clearer. "And once more?" The third time, he blurted the word out, eliciting another shriek from Rosalind.
Grissom's look turned into a glare. "You know…you might not live to see thirty again."
Greg sighed. "I didn't say like 'boo…aliens!' It more like, 'um…aliens?' How was I supposed to know she even knows what an alien is?"
Sara turned to her husband. "Oh, let's see. Gil…how could our three year-old daughter possibly know what an alien is?"
His glare melted under the power of his wife's. "I was trying to give her a wide range of literary exposure, Sara. Science-fiction is a significant genre." She stared him down until he relented. "Maybe The Martian Chronicles wasn't the wisest of bedtime story choices."
With a great sigh, Sara attempted to pry Rosalind off of her father's leg. "Sweetheart, Mommy's tummy is not moving because there's alien in it. I promise."
The little girl sniffed and wiped her nose on Grissom's khakis. "Why it move, Mommy?"
She glanced at her husband. "Well…it's moving because Mommy's going to have a baby. And you're going to have a little brother or sister. Remember how we talked about what that would be like?"
Rosalind peeked out, her blue eyes wide. "Daddy?"
Grissom managed to turn and kneel down to her level. "What, princess?"
She sighed with almost as much exasperation as Sara had displayed a minute earlier. "Can Mommy have a puppy?"
To Be Continued