A/N: Four years ago I officially became a 'dance mom' in the world of competitive dance. No, my life is not worthy of a television show because we don't roll with that kind of drama. That said, it's been an eye-opening learning experience from day one. It can also be very difficult to be a parent of little ones at these events – I can't enter the male dressing room, but my six year old son is too old to come into the girls' dressing room with his sister, but too young to change on his own. There are no "family" dressing rooms. As a writer, I have wondered what life would be like for a dad who needed to change his daughter because there was no mom in the picture. How did Rachel Berry's dads handle things?

Clearly this is an A/U future fic.

Blaine and Kurt have two kids, Everett (11) and Amelia (9); Finn and Rachel have one daughter, Anastasia (8).

Saturday, March 10th, 7:04am – Anderson Household:

"BlaineohmygodthankgodyouansweredRachelleftmeanotebookfilledwithdirectionsbutIcan'tfinditandIdon'tknowhowtodoAna'shairorwhattopackandI'mtheworstdadontheplanet."

Blaine pulled his cell phone away from his ear and checked for a second time that it was Finn who was calling. Wiping his hand down his face, he gingerly placed the phone back next to his ear and tried to project calmness and serenity.

"Finn?"

"Yeah, Blaine?"

"Hiiii. You know it works much better for the person you're calling if you actually put spaces between your words and pause at the end of sentences. How about you take some deep breaths for me and start over. Slooowly," Blaine exaggerated the spacing of his words, hoping it would help Finn calm down.

"You sound like Kurt," Finn pouted.

"It's a side effect of being together since we were sixteen," Blaine shot back.

"Do I ever sound like Rachel?"

"Finn! Concentrate. You called me for a reason, and as much as I'd like to chat with you about how we all start to act like our partners a little too much after time, I have to get Ev and Amelia to the dance competition."

Finn sighed loudly over the phone. "That's why I called. Rachel left me a long list of things I needed to pack and bring and hair stuff and shoe stuff and I don't know where I put it and I don't know what I'm doing and I'm the worst dad, like, ever."

"Shit!" Blaine muttered under his breath. "Finn? Put Ana on the phone for a minute."

When his eight year old niece came on the phone, Blaine tried to keep the stress from bleeding into his tone. "Ana, honey? Did your mom pack for the competition before she and Uncle Kurt left on tour? Or did she really leave everything for your dad to figure out?

"Everything's ready to go, except me. Daddy didn't know how to do my hair and I can't flat iron it by myself. But she did put everything into the roller bag."

"What are you wearing?"

"My tan tights, a black tank top, and my team warm ups."

"Okay, Sweetheart. Put your dad on the phone again, please." Blaine could hear the scratching as the phone passed hands. "Finn?" He waited for the grunt of acknowledgement before laying out the plan. "You need to put the dance bag – the one on wheels that looks like a suitcase, but was four times more expensive, into the back of your Tahoe, put Ana in the backseat, and drive over here."

"I think I can do that," Finn muttered.

"Well, you better. I can't help get Ana ready over the phone," Blain said with a shade more annoyance in his tone than he'd normally allow. But this hitch was going to completely switch his plans for a calm morning before the controlled insanity of the weekend's competition.

Hanging up the phone, Blaine stared at the black roller bag he'd been double checking when the phone rang. All four of Everett's costumes and all three of Amelia's hung on the rack that popped up out of the frame. Glancing at the master spread sheet that included all the information on routine, costume, tights, shoes, accessories, makeup, and call times, Blaine finished checking Amelia's last costume.

"Everett! Amelia! Are you done with breakfast?" he shouted from the guest room, which doubled as the safe space for all things dance to be stored between competitions and conventions.

The pounding of multiple feet echoed down the hallway, before the dark brown curls of his son and daughter appeared in the doorway.

"Yes, Daddy," they answered in unison.

Smiling warmly, Blaine mentally went through his checklist one more time. "Amelia, I'm going to have to do Ana's hair when she and Uncle Finn get here, so let's go style yours right now. Ev – I need you to put the roller bag into the car and yours and Amelia's duffles … then you can watch TV. Be sure to listen for the doorbell."

"'Kay, Dad."

Dropping a hand onto his daughter's shoulder, Blaine steered her into the bathroom for her transformation.