Brittany Pierce had been waking up to stare into deep brown eyes for nearly ten years. That was pretty much constant, a tradition that never wavered. Although that wasn't to say it was always the same set.

This particular morning, it was her daughter's eyes.

As soon as Brittany's eyelids parted, she was greeted with Charlie about three inches from her face.

"Foo Loos!"

And that's how Charlie asked oh-so-nicely for her favorite breakfast.

"K, Foo Loos, mhm," Brittany answered in her morning shorthand. She raised her head just enough to see over Charlie and to Santana's abandoned side of the bed.

"Mommy, foo loos!" Charlie demanded her attention. This time she produced her favorite cereal bowl to demonstrate just how dire the situation. She pointed to the bottom, clearly lacking a morning treat.

"How did you get that?" Brittany asked. "Where's your Momma?"

Charlie shrugged.

"Did Max sent you in here?" Brittany looked her over suspiciously. He had been known to send his sister in on dangerous missions before.

"Nooo," Charlie said way too innocently. The young girl pulled on her Mommy's hand trying to get this breakfast thing going just a bit faster.

"Alright, Charlotte," Brittany said sternly. "Give Mommy a second, okay?"

Charlie complied, but with obvious annoyance. "Ooo-kay."

"You're just like your mother, girlie," Brittany said sat up in a sitting position.

"With a little more restraint," Santana commented as she came out of the bathroom. Her hair was wrapped up in a towel from a morning shower. She leaned over to give Charlie a kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, Charlie Pierce."

"Foo loos?" Charlie held up her bowl.

"Be patient," Santana told her, knowing full well that Charlie didn't know the meaning of the word. She eventually crawled another foot to deliver her wife's kiss on the cheek as well, "Good morning, Brittany Pierce."

"Good morning," Brittany greeted her. "We've got to get some Fruit Loops into this child immediately."

"Your kid is very demanding," Santana pointed out. "No idea where that came from."

"None?"

"Nope."

"Hm."

"Foo Loos!" Charlie's patience was wearing pretty thin.

Ten minutes later, Brittany and Charlie had made their way to the kitchen to prepare the family's morning meal.

"Loop!" Brittany opened her mouth wide for Charlie to throw a Fruit Loop in it. Charlie reached into her bowl with her tiny little hand and threw it. She actually had pretty good aim for a three year old. Either that or the years of practice playing the same game with Max had really paid off for Brittany. "Yay."

"Loo!" Charlie said right after throwing her Mommy a piece. She then made the same throwing motion, but stuffed a Fruit Loop in her own mouth. "Way!"

Half the battle was knowing when it was coming and when it wasn't. A couple had already bounced off her chin while she was slicing up a banana to offset the cereal.

"Hey!" Max complained when he entered the kitchen. "Why is she getting to sit on the counter?"

"Because she's feeding me," Brittany answered. "Loop!"

The next Fruit Loop hit it's target and Charlie replicated Brittany's fist pump.

"Loo!" Charlie stuffed another into her own mouth.

"Not fair," Max said after the athletic showing.

Brittany silently ended the game when she added milk to Charlie's bowl. Throwing milky Fruit Loops was strictly prohibited.

"I'm sure she'd gladly throw a Fruit Loop at you, too."

"That's not what I meant."

"Well, life's rarely fair," Brittany schooled him. "You're a big boy now."

Max was a smart kid. A super smart kid. Typically, that meant that he totally caught on when one or both of his parents was completely patronizing him and he would try his best to use it to his advantage.

"So does that mean I can take Ruffles on a walk by myself?"

"Around the back yard?" Brittany knew this game. "Sure."

"Around the block?"

"Not a chance," Brittany denied. "You want me to slice you up a banana?"

"No," he answered. Sliced bananas were for babies that got to sit on the counter. He took a whole one to maintain his dignity.

"You know you can't take Ruffles by yourself," Brittany watched him peel his fruit. "But we'll go to the park this afternoon."

"We have to take him to the good park, okay?"

"I know, I know," Brittany said, popping some food in her mouth. She was keeping up with Max's conversation while watching Charlie pick smushed Fruit Loops out of her milk and smash them onto her tongue.

"We'll be gone for a whole week and Manny always takes him to that tiny park by his house. Ruffles hates it there, he can't chase the birds."

"Yes, Max," Brittany told him."We'll take Ruffles to the good park with the birds. Then we have to go get your hair cut."

Max immediately pointed to the areas in which it had curled up on the ends. He pulled on the strands trying to see for himself. "It's not too long yet."

"We're going to a wedding, son. It's kind of a big deal. You gotta look sharp."

"I'm already going to look sharp," Max reminded her. "I'm wearing a tuxnedo like Uncle Kurt's!"

"Tux-ee-do."

"Oh," Max giggled. "Tux-ee-do." Max gently laid down his banana peel and took a bite. While chewing, he asked, "Why didn't you or Mom wear a tuxnedo at your wedding?"

"Tuxedo," Brittany corrected again. "And we just didn't."

"Why not?"

"Because we both wanted to wear dresses."

"Why?"

"Because we like dresses."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Max," Brittany laughed. "We just do."

"I guess that's okay," he said.

"Well, thanks," Brittany said. "I'm glad you're okay with it."

The first thing Santana did upon entering the kitchen was beeline to Charlie to place her on the floor. That, of course, made Max smile in silent victory.

"What's the plan for today?" she asked when she transferred her daughter's bowl to the table.

"Ruffles has to go to the park," Max said quickly. "The good park."

Brittany settled Charlie into her chair. "Then Max's haircut."

"Are you going to get an appointment uptown?" Santana asked. "He can't just have a Supercut for this wedding."

"He's six," Brittany answered. "Nobody's going to be paying attention to that."

"It's a big deal," Santana countered. "Kurt's marrying First Gay, Britt. There will be a million photos. There will be all kinds of entertainment magazines with these pictures splashed all over the cover. And, I'm not about to have my boy looking like he got a cheap haircut."

Brittany gave her a long stare before saying, "You sound like Rachel right now."

"This would be one instance in which that crazy bi- billygoat would be right."

"…Fine," Brittany sighed. "I'll make an appointment. You know it'll cost seventy-five bucks, right? Just to get a trim. For our six year old boy."

"For the good of our child, Brittany. Seventy-five bucks seems reasonable when it's for the children."

"...Okay."

"Thank you, babe," Santana smiled sweetly. "What else is on your agenda?"

"I have to go in and check on a few things."

"How many things?"

"One," Brittany bit her lip. "Maybe two things."

"I thought Will was taking care of everything this week."

"He is," Brittany nodded. "He'll be there. Sugar's on strict orders to behave. Pam will be there to keep me updated. And I will be in New York with you and our kids watching our best friend marry the president's gay son of his dreams."

"Eh."

"What?" Brittany dipped a spoonful of cereal out. "You're going to have to act more excited than that."

Santana waited until she had slipped into her seat before elaborating. "Different eh."

"The other eh?"

"Yeah."

"Santana," Brittany started. "You had your chance to say something months ago."

"But I couldn't."

"Yes, you could have."

"He was dating the president's son, Britt," Santana said. "I couldn't say I didn't l.i.k.e. the guy. The Secret Service probably had me bugged."

"Like," Max said out loud.

"Oh, they totally do," Brittany was convinced. "That's why I always read my emails in c.o.d.e."

"Code," Max said proudly.

"Plus, it wouldn't have mattered. What if Kurt hadn't liked you? Would that have made me feel any differently?" Santana waited a beat before answering her own question. "No."

"But, if he hadn't, you would have expected him to say something," Brittany said. "Even if you didn't like it. Because he's your best friend and you trust his j.u.d.g.e.m.e.n.t."

"Jugamit," Max said, then frowned.

"He obviously loves the guy," Santana said to end the line of thought. "And I have to figure out how to land Rachel a high profile date in a week."

"That won't be hard." Brittany took Charlie's empty glass of juice to refill it. "Everybody wants to be seen at this thing. It's the event of the decade."

# # # # #

"It will be the event of the century," Rachel said in her most high-pitched voice. "Think A List."

"I am thinking A List, Rachel."

"Okay," Rachel huffed. "Think Double A List."

"Wait, you want to take a woman?"

"Santana, you know I haven't visited the Sapphic Kingdom since the unnamed one," Rachel said. "And you."

"Not me."

"For a minute, though."

"Not even a second," Santana was starting to get riled. "And I have legal documentation that forbids you from ever mentioning that."

"Momma, you be Momma," Charlie's voice immediately cooled Santana's jets. The little girl was handing her the slightly bigger WeeOne figurine. This one had black squiggly lines on its head, which had prompted Charlie to name it Momma.

"Sure, girlie," Santana accepted the toy and focused her attention on Charlie's WeeOne Mega Home that they got for free when Brittany had delivered a kick ass ad for their parent corporation. "Who will you be?"

"I'm Charlie!" she answered with a smile.

"Oh, good idea," Santana said as she bounced her toy around the dollhouse.

"Mom," Max said from his favorite chair. He didn't really even look up from his computer and whatever game he was clicking away on. "How much longer will Mommy be at work?"

"Not too much longer, Max," Santana said for the third time. "You just asked ten minutes ago."

"Will she home in enough time to go to the park?"

"Did she say she would?" Santana asked.

Max looked up. "Yes."

"Then yes." Santana leaned toward him, "What are you playing anyway?"

"I'm not playing." He flashed the screen of his handheld computer. "I'm studying."

"Okay."

"You know what always helps me pass the time, Max?" Rachel asked.

"What?" Max glanced up to the television broadcasting Rachel Berry into their living room.

"Googling high profile celebrities," she answered.

"No," Santana pointed at her. It wasn't very threatening considering the 3000 mile distance. "Max does not work for you. And he's not allowed to google."

Max nodded at the truth in that statement. "I googled Mom one day."

"Thank God it wasn't Google images, huh," Rachel laughed.

"Shut up!"

"Ummm," Charlie immediately pointed to Santana with her hand over her mouth. "Can't say shut up."

"No, no, we can't," Santana agreed. "That's bad. You're right. Let's not say it, okay."

The signal of the washing machine rang through the house and Santana jumped up, handing off Momma WeeOne to Max. "Play with her for a second."

"Mo-om!" Max complained.

"Just for a second." Santana put the toy in his hand. "Do you want clothes for the trip?"

He shrugged.

"The correct answer is yes."

"Yes," he said, not nearly as enthused as he should be.

"Then play with your sister for two minutes."

"K." He took the Momma doll, but exchanged it for the one that Charlie had aptly named Max. "But I'll be me."

"Awesome," Santana patted his back. "Thank you."

It had been literally three minutes when she returned.

"…And that is the day that you, Charlotte Lopez, will become a woman."

"What are you doing?" Santana's first instinct was to clamp her hands over her daughter's ears. Instead she just whipped her up and gave Rachel a stern look. "Rachel, what have I told you about talking to Charlie without supervision?"

"Oh, relax," Rachel waved her off. "I was telling her about her bat mitzvah."

"Rach, she's not Jewish."

"Neither is Kurt," Rachel shrugged. "And I threw him a bat mitzvah last summer."

"Where's Max?"

"Ruffles was scratching at the door," Rachel answered. "So he took him out back. Said something about being a big enough boy to do that. I told him, sure, take the dog around the block."

"I miss the days when he was terrified of you," Santana said bluntly. She then hurried off, Charlie in tow, to make sure Max hadn't heeded Rachel's advice.

# # # # #

"Duck…Suck…Stuck…Luck…Tuck…"

"Please tell me that's the end of your rhyming words," Santana said as she carried a basket of the kids' clothes into the room.

"I'm giving a spelling test," Rachel pointed at Max. Of course, from Santana's viewpoint, she was just pointing at the camera.

"What?"

"Max's spelling test," Rachel repeated.

"She's helping me," Max said from his spot at the coffee table in their living room. He had a piece of paper of front of him and a pencil in his hand.

"Oh," Santana eyed her son. "I would have helped."

"Yeah," Max said. "But Aunt Rachel has nothing to do, but sit there all day talking to us. So, I emailed her my spelling list. I figured she wouldn't mind."

Santana laughed. "True."

"I don't just sit here all day, Max," Rachel complained.

"You kinda do," Santana said.

"Then what else do you do?" Max asked genuinely.

"Movies, music, and fashion," Rachel answered with flair. "Do you know who I am?"

"He can't google!" Santana reminded her.

Max looked at her with his eyes squinted. He looked over his shoulder at his mom and then back to Rachel. "Yeah," he said simply. "You're Aunt Rachel."

"Just regular, ol' Aunt Rachel," Santana said with a twinkle in her eye. "You should relish that, Berry. He just knows you for you and not all that other stupid crap."

"What stupid crap?" Max asked.

"Nothing," Santana said quickly. "And don't say crap."

"You just did."

"So, I can," she said. "I'm the mom. You can't."

"But why? It's just a word."

"I said so."

"But why?"

"Max," Santana said sternly. "Listen, I don't really care, okay. But, here's the deal. Your mommy would flip out. You say crap in front of her, I'll never hear the end of it. So, to keep that from happening, I have to tell you not to. Get it?"

"Got it."

"We're on the same page?"

"Yeah," Max answered. "If I say crap, Mommy will know I heard it from you. And then she'll say, 'San, did you say crap in front of Max?' and then you'll have to tell her that you did. And then she'll be mad at you and me."

"You're a smart kid," Santana said. "Let your unemployed Aunt Rachel finish your spelling test."

"I'm not unemployed!" she heard Rachel argue.

"What exactly are you working on right now?" Santana asked her pointedly.

Rachel frowned and looked back at the list. "Truck."

# # # # #

"Hey," Brittany announced herself as she came through the back door.

"Mommy's here!" Charlie shimmeyed down the couch and immediately headed that way.

"Yesss!" Max jumped up and ran the opposite direction. Presumably to go get Ruffles ready for his trip to the park.

Santana had been strategically planning how to pack for their trip. Suitcases were opened and in various places. Stacks of clothes, according to owner, had been placed around the room.

"Oh, good," Brittany said as she carried Charlie in on her back. "You're packing."

"Mommy, down," Charlie asked as politely as she could muster so she could resume coloring outside the lines of her Princess Pony coloring book.

Brittany took a hard look and started to rearrange some of the things Santana had placed on the table.

"Honey, no!"

"I'm helping," Brittany insisted.

"No." Santana gently butt bumped her away from the suitcases laid out on the couch. "I'm packing for efficiency."

"I can pack for efficiency."

"If you pack there'll be ten pairs of jeans and one tube top for all four of us to share."

"That was one weekend trip to Colorado!" Brittany squealed. "It was a minor luggage snafu."

"I had to wear your dad's pajamas," Santana seethed. "And I've never forgiven you for it."

"One time."

"The only time you've ever packed."

"No, nuh uh, nooo," Brittany thought about that. "Hmm, okay. Yeah."

"Britt, you're so great at so many things," Santana hugged her, depositing a kiss on her shoulder, "But packing is not one of those things."

"Alright," Brittany really didn't want to help anyway. Attempting to was actually the best way to quickly get taken off the task. She checked her watch, "I'll take the kids while you finish up then."

"Sounds good," Santana said.

"Are we ready to go?" Max asked while pulling Ruffles on his leash. "I'm ready."

"Haircut first," Brittany said. "Then the park. Ruffles will have to cool his heels for a bit."

"Ruffles and I will meet you at the park," Santana told them. "Okay?"

Max considered the plan. "The good park?"

"Yes, Max," Santana promised. "We'll meet at the good park."

"Okay."

"Okay," Brittany said.

"Oooo-kay!" Charlie clapped.

# # # # #

"...So I got Charlie tucked in for her nap and grabbed some laundry and walk in on Rachel giving Max his spelling test," Santana recalled for Brittany.

The two of them were lying in bed, feet tangled, recapping the day.

"And?"

"And..." Santana turned to face her wife in the darkness. "It was Saturday. The kid's going to be out of school for a week and he's got Rachel giving him a spelling test in advance."

"He's proactive."

"He's a nerd." Santana blew out a breath. "We're raising a nerd."

"So he's a little nerdy," Brittany shrugged. "I like it. I'll buy him a pocket protector."

"No!"

"C'mon, San," Brittany chuckled. "He's smart. He likes to study and read. We really shouldn't discourage that."

"I don't want to discourage it," Santana said. "I just don't want him to be one of those kids that gets all stressed out about grades and achievements and...other nerdy stuff."

"It'll be fine."

"You say now. But, I don't want him to fall apart in ten years when he doesn't get an early admission to M.I.T."

"Oh, he would get into M.I.T," Brittany said with total confidence. "I know some people."

"I'm just saying, maybe we should...monitor that situation."

"Consider it monitored," Brittany readily gave in. She gave Santana a bit of a squeeze, "Hey you wanna have sex?"

"Uh..." Santana considered it. She was pretty comfortable in her flannel pants at the moment. "Do you?"

"I totally did earlier. You were wearing those jeans that make your ass do crazy things to me."

"On purpose."

"I know," Brittany laughed. "But then I got into bed..."

"Yeah." Santana poked her wife in the ribs. "Despite your overwhelming sexiness, I'm really tired."

"Me, too," Brittany nodded. "And I'm really sore from having to tackle Ruffles."

"When he starts chasing those damn birds, it's impossible to catch him."

"Maybe in the morning?"

"If we wake up before the kids," Santana agreed.

"Set your alarm."

"Somehow Charlie always hears it," Santana said. "She'd be here before your shirt came off."

"We should build some kind of obstacle course," Brittany suggested. "Something to distract them for like thirty minutes."

"Twenty."

"Twenty?"

"Probably fifteen if you skipped the whole teasing thing you do about mid way through."

"I thought you liked that," Brittany said.

"Oh, I do. Just not when we're pressed for time."

"I'll just lock the door."

Santana shook her head, "That's a meltdown waiting to happen, Britt."

"You know what's funny?" Brittany asked.

"What?"

"Ten years ago, in the middle of the night, on the phone with you, I never ever would have imagined this conversation."

Santana angled up just enough to kiss Brittany's chin. "Ten years ago, in the middle of the night, on the phone with you, I hoped and hoped one day we'd be exactly where we are."