Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.
Author's Note: The muse struck once again, and so I bring forth some more 100 word one shots that follow on from Chapter 1.
Harmony Marie Cooper crawled out of the cot on Christmas morning and ran the short distance to her parents' bed. "Ismas! Ezzies! Up!" she declared in a loud voice, jumping up and down.
"Who taught her about presents?" groaned Penny, struggling to open her eyes.
"Some people argue that the desire to receive gifts is innate," replied the immediately awake Sheldon, taking possession of the toddler and keeping her away from her expecting mother.
Penny snorted and the scientist amended his original statement. "It could also have been your brother's conversation with our daughter yesterday."
"I'm going to kill him."
Penny stumbled into the family room semi-awake twenty minutes later, pushing wet hair back.
"Penny!" cried her mother, hugging her very pregnant daughter. "You're late for present time!"
Penny smiled apologetically and sought out an available chair. Her family wasn't much help.
For crying out loud.
Sheldon was seated on the floor, their daughter standing in the cradle of his legs. He held her back to avoid the chaos that was her family at Christmas.
His eyes found hers.
He nodded to the chair he was leaning against and she thankfully eased into the cushion as her father's voice boomed.
The overtired Harmony sat on Penny's hip waiting for a bottle.
Taking a seat on the couch and watching "The Grinch" with her nieces, she fed her daughter.
Baby Cooper was sprawled against her mother's side when Sheldon arrived muttering. "I see no purpose in throwing yourself at another in the name of a 'game'."
He saw the Grinch's wide grin on television. "And that is not anatomically possible."
He saw Penny next. "You went earlier than schedule."
"Harmony was hungry," shrugged Penny.
"But it is my task to feed her," protested the offended genius.
"You can put her down."
Pushing up from the couch with some effort after her husband left cradling their daughter, Penny made for the kitchen where her mother was cooking up a storm.
Washing the bottle, her unborn child was also kicking up a storm. "Are you okay?"
"Mm?" asked Penny absentmindedly, racking the plastic. "I'm okay. Just more than ready to give birth, that's all."
"Come on Pen," boomed her father, interrupting the comfortable silence. "It's baseball time."
Penny rolled her eyes, gesturing to her expanded girth. "Yeah, sure Dad."
Her father looked at her as if for the first time. "Oh I see."