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His logic, flawed yet oddly compelling, led us down the path of no return. "Might as well finish the tub at this point," he concluded, the finality in his voice sealing our fates. "And throw away the empty tub to get rid of the evidence."
And so, we took turns, our bites hurried and filled with the thrill of mischief.
The sound of footsteps approaching snapped us to attention, and Mike's urgent whisper for us to freeze sent a shiver of panic through me. There we were, sitting on the kitchen floor, caught mid-bite with the incriminating tub of ice cream between us. Mike leaned in, his voice barely audible. "Predators, and also snakes, can't see you if you don't move. It's worked on Daddy in the dark several times," he assured me, his confidence unwavering despite our precarious situation.
However, Uncle Joe's voice, stern and unmistakable, broke through the silence from just behind us. "It's bright daylight right now. I can hear your whispers and clearly see you," he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt about the effectiveness of our 'camouflage.'
Mike, ever the optimist, whispered back, "They might be bluffing. Just stay still; they can't see us if we don't move."
But the game was up. Daddy intervened with a blend of authority and amusement. "It's time to head to the airport, so enough with your shenanigans," he declared, signaling an end to our ice cream escapade.
Relief washed over me as we unfroze and relaxed, the lack of immediate punishment a silent blessing. Joe then shifted gears to practical matters, asking, "Have you checked if you've packed everything you need?"
Mike and I exchanged a glance before listing off, in turns, essentials for our vacation.
"A lifetime supply of chocolate ice cream," I started, unable to resist a glance at the now-empty tub.
"An inflatable unicorn pool floatie," Mike chimed in, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"A map to the nearest candy store," I added, keeping up with the theme of essential vacation needs.
"And a book on how to survive vacationing with grumpy Daddies," Mike concluded, his comment the cherry on top.
Unable to contain ourselves any longer, we burst into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen and softening the earlier tension.
Daddy shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips despite his feigned exasperation. "Two grumpy Daddies, huh? Well, we'll see who's grumpy when someone finds their inflatable unicorn mysteriously deflated," he teased, joining in the laughter.
Uncle Joe's reminder came at a crucial moment, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of seriousness. "Remember, you need to act like grownups starting now. That includes calling us by our names. Being in a Little state at the airport might draw too much attention," he explained, his gaze sweeping over Mike and me to ensure the message was received.
I nodded in understanding, my mind already racing with the thought of navigating an airport without slipping into my Little persona. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mike's attention had wandered, his gaze fixed on the fridge as if it held the secrets of the universe.
Joe, noticing the distraction, cleared his throat and asked sternly, "Mike, did you get all of that?"
Mike snapped to attention, his response laced with a mock seriousness that mimicked Joe's tone perfectly. "Understood everything, crystal clear," he declared. But nosooner had the words left his mouth than he pointed at the fridge, a hopeful gleam in his eye. "So, Daddy, can I have some more ice-cream?" he asked, completely missing the point of Joe's earlier directive.
The room fell into a stunned silence as Hank, Joe, and I stared at Mike, who seemed oblivious to the breach of protocol he'd just committed. Misinterpreting our blank stares, Mike touched his lips self-consciously. "What, do I have ice-cream on my lips? Is it gone now?" he asked, licking his lips in a fashion that only served to heighten the absurdity of the moment.
The drive to the airport and the subsequent wait for our flight to Miami Beach was filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Daddy had planned this vacation as a means to ease my stress, a gesture that I appreciated more than words could express.
As we took our seats on the flight, my nerves began to manifest in a series of increasingly outlandish fears. "What if we get sucked out through the toilet? Or what if the wings just decide to take a day off? Or worse, what if we land in the ocean and are forced to live out the rest of our lives on an island?" I listed, my voice a pitch higher than usual with anxiety.
Mike leaned over with a conspiratorial whisper. "It's my first time flying too," he admitted, his attempt at solidarity both touching and hilarious. He then launched into a grandiose speech that was meant to inspire courage. "In the face of certain death, will I be brave? You bet. Is this plane going to crash with us in it? Very likely. But am I going to laugh in the face of death? Absolutely."
Mike's attempt to alleviate my flight anxiety with his peculiar logic only served to heighten my nerves. "What are the chances of the flight exploding mid-flight?" he mused aloud, aplayful glint in his eyes. "I'd say about 50-50. It either will, or it won't. So, 50 percent of the time, it explodes every time." His flawed statistics, meant to be comforting, only made me chuckle nervously at the absurdity of his reasoning.
However, as the seatbelt sign illuminated and the aircraft began its ascent, the tables turned dramatically. It was Mike who succumbed to panic, his earlier bravado evaporating into thin air. "This isn't natural! Humans aren't meant to fly; if we were, we'd have wings! This is it—we're defying the laws of nature, and there will be consequences!" he ranted, his voice rising in pitch with each word. "We're in a metal tube, thousands of feet in the air. This isn't bravery; it's insanity!"
As his rant escalated, Mike's imagination took flight, surpassing even the altitude of our plane. He began to frantically whisper to the passengers around us, "We're all going to die! I saw something on the wing, something they're not telling us about! It's a sign!"
The passengers, caught between amusement and concern, watched as the situation unfolded. It wasn't long before a worried flight hostess approached, her eyes wide with concern. "Is everything alright here?" she inquired, her professional demeanor faltering slightly at the sight of Mike's distress.
Uncle Joe, ever the calm in the storm, reassured her with a gentle smile. "Everything's fine, thank you. He's just a bit nervous about his first flight," he explained, his voice soothing.
I leaned in to comfort Mike, whispering words of reassurance. It was then that Joe had a stroke of genius. Retrieving a binky and the new Teddy from his carry-on, he gently offered them to Mike.
The transformation was immediate. The moment the binky found its way into Mike's mouth and the Teddy into hisarms, his panic dissolved into a serene calm. Mike cooed, a content smile spreading across his face as he played with the stuffie, the earlier panic a distant memory. Within moments, he had drifted off to sleep, his head resting peacefully on his Daddy’s shoulder.
I was taken aback by the swift change, marveling at how quickly Mike transitioned into his Little state with the comfort of his familiar items. Daddy, witnessing the scene, chuckled softly. "Looks like Mike will be calm for the rest of the flight," he observed, a note of amusement in his voice.
