Hello amazing people!

Recap: Devyn sold photos of Kate to New York Magazine—which published them alongside an article that described Kate as Castle's love interest, but focused on her: An amazing detective with the 12th who has overcome incredible hardships such as her mother's murder and her father's alcoholism. Then she sat through a pow-wow where the big wigs talked about her and them—and what to do.

Chapter 45 – Seconds

When Kate Beckett stepped in to her apartment, her stomach immediately turned at whatever her dad had cooking. It wasn't that he was a bad cook—but the thought of food was making her queasy. All she really wanted was to grab a couple of Excedrin and go to bed. She was feeling sluggish after her two-hour workout at the precinct. Kickboxing. Running, she liked—it was freeing, but kickboxing was necessary. She'd been tired before her day even began, and now her legs felt rubbery and her arms were dead weights hanging at her sides. To top it off, she hadn't stopped to hydrate properly, so she was going to be stiffer and sorer than need be.

"Hey, Dad. What are you making?" She asked, tossing her purse on the stairs and walking up behind him.

"Beef stroganoff."

Kate took in the open cans of cream of mushroom soup on the counter, the egg noodles already drained in the sink and the sauce simmering on the stove. Great. Something heavy.

"Hmmm."

"What's the matter?"

Kate sighed. "Long day, Dad, that's all."

"Don't lie to me, Katie. I can see you're still upset."

"Aren't you upset?"

"No. Why would I be?"

"Did you even read this?" she asked pointing to the article lying open by her cutting board. She thought of stabbing it. The knife was right there.

"Of course I did."

"And you're not bothered by it?"

"What's to be bothered by?"

"You're kidding, right? Maybe that one of your friends talked about you to the press?"

"Bill didn't mean it, so… You know? Water off a duck's back."

"So, it doesn't matter to you that the most private and painful parts of our lives were just plastered all over New York City?"

"I didn't say that, but what's the point of stressing over it?"

"God, you're so—" She through her hands up and turned toward her living room.

"So what, Katherine?"

"Don't 'Katherine' me." She said turning back to him.

"I named you, Missy, and I'll 'Katherine" you whenever I like. So, why don't you calm yourself down," he pointed his spatula at the stool in front of him, "and tell me why you're so upset?"

Pursed lips and a glare at the chair he'd indicated were the only responses he received.

"Well, you look awful," he continued, unphased, "but I gotta say, you look a damn sight better than Rick. What the hell did you do to that boy?"

"What do you mean 'what the hell did I do to him'?" That got her riled up. "I got him out of the line of fire. That's what I did."

"Still firing, too, I see? That's okay. I can take it. Years of practice. But you're gonna listen to me too, Katie. You're too bullheaded for your own good."

"And what did you expect me to do? Just stand there and take it?"

"Take what, Katie? He wasn't doing anything to you. You pushed away the one person—maybe three—who could actually help you through this."

"There is no 'this.'"

"So, that's your tactic? You're just gonna ignore it?"

"What would you have me do?"

"Oh, I don't know…here's an idea: deal with it?"

"I am dealing with it."

"No you're not. You're burying it. And I don't understand why you're this upset. Over an article? A nice one at that."

"Nice?" she cried. "You—they…they're going to use this to try to force Castle out. And there's nothing I can do about it! And then, everyone wants me to be happy about it? Like I should somehow be honored that they chose to focus on me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"That bi—wench from Internal Affairs. She wants Castle gone."

"So that's what you're upset about? Not the article?"

"No. It's the damn article!"

"People speculating about my life. Things that aren't true and things that are no one's concern. People staring at me. It's my life, and now all of a sudden I have to read about it in magazines typically reserved for celebutantes and fashionistas? Since when?"

"Come on, Katie. You're no fool. I can't believe you're letting this get to you."

"So they can spread whatever lies they want?"

"What lies? Everything in that article was true."

"'More than a muse'? 'Richard Castle's new lady love?'"

"Yeah, they probably shouldn't have said 'new,'" he mused more to himself than his daughter.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means. There's something there, and you keep trying to deny it. That boy loves you like I love your mom. You're not—"

"Wait. You still love Mom?" Kate shocked herself with the question—her voice dying off at the end. She certainly hadn't meant for that to come up. May as well, right? she thought. She was still mad about that, too.

"Katie, really? Is that what you think?"

This. This I can do, Jim thought. He and Katie were more alike in this way than any other. Johanna? You knew when she was mad, and it didn't take much to pop the cork. She'd be mad and then be over it. Not him. And not their Katie. They'd let it fester. They were pressure cookers. They'd add an angry ingredient here and there. Mark it for future use. They'd heat it and reshape it and let it grow into something unrecognizable. Then they'd explode.

Sure, they'd each found other outlets and worked on being better about it. He'd certainly mellowed over the last however many years—AA had helped with that, and, he thought, the perspective that comes simply with age, but he still recognized it for what it was: doubt, insecurity and anger. He couldn't really fault her for any of it. They hadn't really talked. He'd certainly sprung Sheryl on her. And, grown woman or not, she was still his little girl.

Kate shrugged, but came forward and sat on the stool.

"Your mom is my everything, my ideal. You lost your mom; I lost the love of my life and my best friend. You have to know that?"

"But?" she asked quietly.

"Sheryl?" Jim questioned. He hated causing her pain or causing her to question what's real and what's forever. He hoped this wasn't what was holding her back, but suspected it was, in part. Because, how do you move on from something that real, that painful? He was still trying to figure that out.

Kate nodded only slightly, grateful that he wasn't making her ask outright.

"She keeps the lonely away. But it's not the same. Not near the same. With your mom, it was easy. Not even easy, really. It was more like there wasn't any other way to be. She was poems and flowers and dancing and stars streaking across the sky. When she smiled, the world stopped, but I felt like I'd run circles around it. And God, when she laughed? She had so many different laughs. So many different ways to say I told you so."

A quick smile appeared on his daughter's face.

"I'm going to tell you something now that's going to be hard—or at least weird to hear, okay? And don't overanalyze it."

"Okay?"

"I've never said this aloud to anyone…You'd never wish your kid dead. I never would. No one would. But there are times, where I've thought it would have been easier to lose you." He looked at his daughter wondering if she'd understand what it was he was trying to say. "Because then there'd have been someone who understood. Someone who lost on the same level. Someone who knew what was gone, what was missing. When it's just you and me, our pain is different. Even though Grandma's gone, it's not the same, and I can't know what you think and feel and I know I made it worse. And you can't know what it's like for me. How hard it is to...look at another woman. To wake up alone…or not alone, but wishing she were someone else—or at least not there."

"Dad—"

"No. Hear me out. Sheryl's nice. Sweet. An attempt at normalcy. I'm not lying when I say I do care about her. But, it's companionship not passion and sometimes I'm afraid that feeling, like I'm cheating on your mom, will never go away."

"Me, too, but she'd want you to be happy and you deserve to be happy. I want that for you, too. It's just…hard."

"I know. Same for you, you know? I speak for your mother and me when I say we want you to be happy. That's true here and in the hereafter."

He kissed her forehead wrapped his arms around his daughter, sighing when she reciprocated. She was here. She was beautiful and strong and everything he and Jo ever dreamed she would be.

"Katie?" he leaned back to study his daughter.

"What, Dad? You're making me nervous."

"That article. I don't think you should be so upset over it. I've told you before, the truth is yours to wield. And you've faced some tough truths. You do every day, and I couldn't be more proud of you. And that's what I thought when I read that article. It just reminded me of all the reasons I'm so proud of you."

He was rewarded with a small smile and a little snort.

"Still, I wish your mom could be here to help you make sense of things. She'd be better at it than me. Plus, she'd know all the loopholes for who we could sue if you wanted to."

"Not to worry, Dad. Castle's got a guy, if we want to go that route. But, don't sell yourself short. You're not doing so bad."

"So things make more sense now?"

"Well, I'm not as mad."

"Good. You won't hit me when I say this. That smile?" he said pointing to the magazine. "It's been so long, Katie. And if he can make you smile like that? Hell, if I didn't think you'd shoot me, I'd pay to put up on the Jumbotron at the Yankees Stadium. It shouldn't be hidden away. I bought extra issues, for Babi, your aunts and uncles."

"Dad—"

"I'm just saying…don't be too hard on him. He's a good man. I think you finally found someone who deserves you."

"I'm not mad at Rick, Dad."

"Then you should tell him that…and maybe other things."

"Other things?"

"Yeah. You know? Like—"

"Dad?"

"Hmm."

"Thanks for painting my office."

"Oh, you're just so subtle, aren't you?"

"I thought you were feeding me?"

Kate watched as her father dumped the egg noodles back in the pad he'd boiled them in and laughed as they all stuck together from sitting out too long. She got up to grab some olive oil to try to loosen them up, but it was a lost cause. He just cut some out of the lump and chopped it up with a fork before drizzling it with the sauce he'd made. Kate looked in the fridge for the sour cream she knew he must have grabbed as they never ate beef stroganoff without sour cream, and together they sat down at her table.

"So, Alexis says you're going to look at a big, white fluff ball on Saturday?"

"Yep. Pretty thing with golden eyes. Inuyasha, I think the lady said. Have you ever heard of a Coton de Tulear?"

"Can't say that I have."

"This dog, Inuyasha, is apparently a mixed breed—Coton de Tulear and something else. His owner died a few weeks ago, and the daughter can't keep it. The Cotons are supposed to have hair instead of fur. Isn't that strange? Apparently, they don't shed."

"You know, Jack's gonna be jealous."

Kate smiled thinking of the way Rick had loved on her Dad's Jack Russell Terrier—after he got over the fact that her dad had named him Jack. The four-legged pogo stick had never been so happy; he wore out before Rick in their game of fetch. She'd never seen that happen before.

"Jack won't even know."

"He will. Dogs can sense these kinds of things."

"Then I guess you'll just have to bring him over for a play date."

"Here or Rick's?"

"Well, since I'm technically not supposed to have dogs here, probably at Castle's."

"Will you be there?"

"Fish much?"

"I just thought...maybe, after this weekend?"

"No, Dad, we're not dating." Sick of poking at her dinner, she stood with her plate. Yet. We're not dating yet. She didn't bother adding that for her father's benefit. He, like everyone else, seemed to believe it was a foregone conclusion. She was finally in agreement. One more week, she thought. Castle's birthday was just a week away.

She'd pleaded with him to go home, but to his ears it only sounded corrosive. Mordant, Castle thought. Mordant was a good word. It wasn't the "dye" meaning that appealed to him, but it was biting, and it did remind him of "morgue" and "dying." And that's how he felt. Like a little part of him was dying. Maybe a big part. He didn't know if he was going to win this one.

Should he call? Should he reach out to her? He didn't know. He hated hurting her. He might not have called them up, but he'd as good as put her there. God, if only they hadn't dug so deep. Then—then maybe she'd have an easier time shaking this off. As it was? He didn't know.

Castle stared at the pictures in the magazine. They'd long since gone blurry. Lots of scotch had a way of doing that to him. Made his eyes dry and itchy. It was better than crying, though. He knew he wasn't supposed to have alcohol, but…no one was there to stop him, and so what if his gut hurt tomorrow? He deserved it didn't he? No, he thought. But even if he didn't, he'd rather focus on a gut ache and a headache than his heartache.

Kate had given up on sleep hours ago. She was tired, but it just wasn't happening. It was a cramp in her calf muscles, guilt eating at her, a nightmare and worry. What little sleep she did manage earlier in the night was restless. She figured she was in for a pissy kind of day, so she'd gone to stare Lockwood down. Why go another day when this one was destined to be bad? Since he wasn't part of the general population, the guards didn't seem to mind that she'd shown up before 7:00 AM on a Friday. She spent longer with him than usual, but to no avail.

It was always the same. One question. Who hired you? He would lean back in his chair, disinterested, right hand on the table. He'd stare across at her and tap his index and ring fingers on the table. His ring finger was his trigger finger. He knew it. She knew it. But she never flinched.

She was back at the precinct before 9:00 AM and spent a full two hours sorting through emails and voicemails that had absolutely nothing to do with any of her cases—past or present. Of course, she had to document them, which was easy with the emails, she just forwarded them all to Janet Polland and carbon copied Paula. The voicemails were another story. She took notes, and then sent them all via email to the two women.

Three pharmacists dead and one killer. You'd think it would be less paperwork, but it in fact tripled: copies for every file, making sure the contents of each file matched up. Some of the physical evidence couldn't go in each box like normal, so it had to be fully and completely documented and cross-referenced—with photographs. She'd had to break from her paperwork on four separate occasions to inform the families of their victims about the circumstances surrounding their deaths. She'd tried to comfort one wife and daughter, one husband and two parents—neither of whom were willing to be in the same room with one another.

Thankfully, she had the boys for a three-way file comparison. They'd offered to stay, but she kicked them out promptly at 2:00 PM, like she'd promised the day before. She stayed to finish the job. She got Montgomery's sign off, had Officer Stegner and Detective Coufer help her carry the files to records and she was in the elevator at 4:30 PM. Her grand plan was to sleep half the weekend away.

So, why am I standing outside Castle's door? She wondered if she shouldn't have just gone to Lanie's after the way she'd yelled at him. Well, I didn't really yell at him. He just looked like I did. She was going to have to fix that. She raised her fist and knocked.

Castle's surprise showed when he opened the door, but it was immediately canceled out by the concern etched in his face. She stood there, half-blocked by the wall she was leaning into. She had her head cocked to the side leaning against the door jam.

Castle took in her appearance. She looked stressed and like she had a headache. He could tell she was probably just coming from work—and judging by the clothes, she at least hadn't slept at the precinct. But, she was dressed up, with heavy makeup—darker around the eyes than normal. Usually, unless she had court or something official, she was a little more casual on Fridays. But today, black dress pants and a form-fitting bright red shirt. A power color.

She gave him a half smile. "I'm tired, Castle, and there are people outside my building with cameras and I…"

She didn't finish because Castle grabbed her hand and pulled her in. He led her to the couch where, he indicated she should sit, so she sat down. She unclipped her holster and service piece from her side and set it on the coffee table, knowing Castle would take it to his office for her. She leaned forward to unzip her boots and slip them off, but Castle stopped her. He kneeled in front of her and lifted her pant leg just to the ankle and unzipped and slipped off first one, and then the other.

"I'm tired, Castle, not incapable." He just gave her a small smile and squeezed his thumb into the arch of the foot he still held.

Castle stood up in front of her. He gestured to the TV, and Kate shook her head no, wondering what was up. Then he motioned up the stairs and folded his hands under his cheek and closed his eyes.

"Later," she answered. Yes, she wanted to sleep, but she wasn't sure she wanted to sleep here. Maybe she'd just wait it out. Kate grabbed one of the couch pillows and curled up in the corner with it, while Castle handed her a blanket from the chair beside them. Then he motioned drinking.

"Okay, Castle. What's with the mime show?"

At this Castle became very animated with his fingers typing motion and making an angry face pretending to be talking to a phone and then a finger was shaming and shaking in front of her. She really had no idea what he was getting at.

Kate shook her head. "Are you supposed to be writing?"

He shook his head wildly.

"Well, by all means, go." He scowled at her phrasing. "Don't let me hold you back."

Castle paused, then held up a finger. He texted her.

Can't talk 'til I finish the chapter.

Kate snickered. "Who's rule is that?"

"Richard Castle!" she heard Martha from behind them. "I knew I heard voices! That's cheating."

"Just mine so far, Martha, but this is a neat trick. Tell me, how do you get him to comply?"

"Leverage, Dear," Martha answered. "Now, you go," she said to Richard. "I've got our gal. And no more texting!" she called to his retreating figure.

Kate smirked as she watched Rick's head bobble back and forth and she knew he was silently and snidely mouthing his mother's words.

"So, what's this leverage?"

"Ah, discussion for another day, huh? Nevertheless, I don't doubt your capacity to render him speechless—and keep him that way."

"Ah, well, I think I'll just appreciate your efforts for the time being."

Martha sat down beside her. "If you don't mind my saying so…you look less than stellar. I know my way around the cosmetics desk, and you're talented, Dear, but there's no mistaking the layers of concealer."

Martha grabbed Kate's face and turned it toward her, tilting her head up and down while she inspected. "I haven't seen this much concealer on one eye since they covered Cindi Welter's shiner in The Three Sisters. That was a hoot, I tell ya. Gave herself a black eye trying to prove she could twirl a baton."

"It's just been a long week, Martha."

"Stressful?"

Kate shrugged. "Mostly just long."

"Why don't you head on up? Get some shut-eye?"

"Bit keyed up, and it's early yet."

"Oh, nonsense. You have the weekend off, and you know you're welcome to stay here. Have you eaten yet?" Martha asked on her way to the kitchen.

"Yeah."

Martha came back with a glass of water and two capsules. Kate raised an eyebrow in question.

"Melatonin. All natural, I promise. It'll help you relax, sleep sound."

"Oh, no, Martha, I—"

"Safe as can be. Non-addicting. Come, now, would I lead you astray?"

Kate furrowed her brow. She didn't really want to answer that, and frankly, she didn't have the energy to come up with a good argument without offending Martha. Kate gave in and let Martha mother her like she was obviously trying to do.

They talked for a few minutes, Kate telling Martha about the cameras outside her building and Martha telling her about some of the funnier captures the paparazzi had snapped of her. Martha was just in the middle of telling her about when one cameraman had snuck into her dressing room—Kate couldn't tell whether it was exaggerated or not—when Martha excused herself to take a phone call. Kate felt herself sink lower into the couch cushions.

When her head fell back, she felt dizzy—or like the room was spinning. She wasn't sure which. But, it was when her eyelids went lax and she had to fight to open them that she started to worry. She stood quickly, and tripped over her heels. She fell toward the glass coffee table, knocking the remote into a glass bowl filled with pointless balls of twine. She righted herself, the action doing nothing to quell the wooziness.

"Castle?" she called, hands around her head.

He looked up to see Kate, with her head tucked between her forearms.

"Kate!" Castle was in front of her in just seconds, settling her onto the couch again—this time the opposite corner she'd been in. He sat down beside her.

"Castle, I think your Mother drugged me."

"Mother!"

Martha came around the corner.

"What the hell did you give her?"

"Stop yelling, Castle."

"It was just melatonin, Dear. She's small, but, I mean, Alexis has never—oh, no, you don't think she's allergic do you?"

"No. Just, you can't give that stuff on an empty stomach—especially when she's already exhausted." He turned back to Kate. "It's probably just hitting you harder than it normally would."

"Well, she said she'd eaten."

"I did, Martha."

"That's Kate-speak for she grabbed a banana this morning before she left. Other than that she's had coffee and what, Kate? Skittles? Snickers?" He felt her shift at the "skittles" part and knew he was right.

"Shut-up, Castle. I eat."

"Should I get her something now?"

Kate's eyes widened as she leaned forward. "No. No food." Moving was a bad idea. She clutched Castle's shirt, until she found his eyes. He was the only thing not moving.

Kate moved her hand toward his ear and brought the other one up to the other side of his face. Oh, his eyes. So long as she could see those blue depths of aquamarine, she was fine. Nothing was spinning when she had his eyes. She leaned back slowly until her head hit the arm of the couch, but she drew Castle with her, not willing to release the only thing that was anchoring her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, searching her face.

"Heavy, but lightheaded. Spinning. A lot like the time I smoked too much with—"

"Katherine Beckett! Did you get high?"

"Oh, yeah, Rick. Like you never did."

"Mother's in the room, Kate."

"Pff. Like she never did. She was at Woodstock with your Aunt Lynn."

"Touché."

"Good times. Flower power. Free love. We paved the way for you kids." Kate felt Martha sit on the arm of the couch, near her head. "Richard, do you think she's okay?"

"Emm fine," Kate said. She just wasn't sure how long she could stay awake. She just knew she had to keep talking if she wanted to avoid falling asleep right then. "Not scattered or loopy or hallucinating. Definitely don't have the munchies."

"So, no drug induced confessions?" Castle asked.

"No. But never, ever let your mom drug me again."

"I swear, Kate, it's not drugs. And you should eat."

"Not even a tiny one? It was the grunge rocker, wasn't it?"

"No, geez, Castle." Kate closed her eyes. She felt so tired. "You always want to blame him. But, really, he was the sweetest boy. No—it was Mr. All American, the homecoming king—the one that Dad actually liked a little."

"I thought we weren't getting any confessions?"

"Dad likes you, too, you know." Castle felt her thumb sweeping across his left cheek. He didn't think she knew she was still holding on to him. "Wonder what that means?"

"That he's refined his taste in men?"

Kate inhaled deeply. Castle's scent. Cologne? she wondered. Aftershave? His cheek was incredibly smooth today, but her limbs were heavy and she couldn't keep it up. She let her hands fall, and searched blindly until she found his.

"One more confession, Castle," she said sleepily. Her voice was just above a whisper. She drew his knuckles to her lips, and kissed them. "Not mad. Didn't want to be mean…to you."

Kate cuddled his arm to her chest and fell asleep. Castle simply stared at her for a time, not caring that his mother was right there watching him watch her.

Castle didn't look up at his mother until he saw her fingers come down to brush the hair off Kate's face. It was a move he'd considered, but he hadn't wanted to stir.

"She's the right one, Richard."

Rick just nodded. He knew.

"You know you can speak, now? I won't tell Alexis."

"Let's scoot her down and let her sleep. I think she needs that more than anything right now."

Kate woke up on Castle's couch, light already starting to shine into the living room. All night? I slept here all night? Someone had covered her up. She wondered what the Castles had done all night since she'd apparently kicked them out of their living room? She hadn't budged; she hadn't heard a peep. She'd been completely out of it. She was normally a light sleeper, but apparently her week had caught up with her. Still, she couldn't remember sleeping that hard in a long while. The melatonin. Maybe there was something to it, Kate thought. And maybe she'd try it again, when she was at home in her own bed. For now though, she really had to pee.

Kate made her way into the half-bath. She noticed someone had left some makeup removal wipes on the counter for her, and they'd brought down a tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush. Their kindness reminded her of one of her favorite fairy tales, The Elves and the Shoemaker, and she smiled thinking of her worn collection of fairy tales. I'll have to show Castle sometime. Kate smiled again thinking how much he'd enjoy knowing that about her.

"Mmm, Dad. What are you making?" Alexis came downstairs in her pajama shorts and a tank.

"Not me. I thought it was you?"

They peeked into the oven. "What is it?" They asked, watching the gooey mixture bubble. It smelled delicious.

"Well, it's definitely not Gram. Too many ingredients."

"And too early, Dear. Don't forget too early."

"Morning, Gram. What are you doing up?"

"I smelled breakfast. I thought maybe your father was cooking for Kate."

"She's gone. But since neither of us did this...I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say it was Kate."

The oven timer went off, causing Castle to jump. Alexis turned to take the pan out of the oven, when the front door opened. Kate came walking in with one of Castle's reusable grocery bags draped over her arm. She looked refreshed and relaxed. She must have gone home to change because she was now wearing a pair of jeans with a blue and white striped top and a pair of sneakers.

"Oh, good," Kate grinned. "It's done."

"What's done, exactly?"

"Seriously, Rick, if you can't figure out that it's breakfast, we're going to have to rethink this you shadowing me thing."

Castle made a face at her. "I know it's breakfast, but…what is it?"

"Stuffed Peach French Toast."

"You didn't have to cook for us. I'd have made you breakfast."

"I was up, and hungry. Besides, least I can do after crashing on your couch last night. You should have woken me up."

"Well, to be fair…I did drug you. I'm sorry, Dear. I had no idea it would hit you like that."

"You know what, Martha?" Kate sat down beside her. "I actually slept better than I've slept in a long time. Just wish I'd been in my bed. Not sure I'd want to do that when I'm on call—but," she winked at Martha, "I picked up some melatonin to try—at home."

"How come everything you make is complicated?" Alexis asked, pulling out plates.

"It's not complicated! It's deceptive…really very easy. And you had everything for it. You would be out of milk and cream cheese, but I picked up some more. You'll like it, Castle. It's like dessert for breakfast."

"It smells delicious," he acknowledged.

"It is. Now, can we eat? Latent drug-induced munchies here."

"That's not the drugs. That's just your sorry excuse for a diet."

"Just for that, you don't get seconds."

So, this chapter? I decided, sometimes, when you're close, you don't really need to say your sorry...you just need to be there.

In other news...I'm halfway through tonight's episode and I kinda hate them both at the moment. Especially the therapist. "Are you afraid that he won't wait or that he will?" What's that even mean? Ugg.

Anyway, I'm sure I'll be happier in another 30 mins…or when I read your reviews…so, help a girl out? Let me know what you think?

p.s. I'm behind on my messages, so if I didn't respond yet, I promise I'll get to it! I've been trying to fatten up my kid…turns out he looks "malnourished on paper." Four years old and the kid only weighs 26 lbs—not like 3rd-world sickly (those poor babies!), but apparently a concern.