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Sid eyed the Cup wearily, then turned to Geno and back towards the Cup.
“No.”
When he looked back at his husband he got a roll of the eyes and a fond smile. “Sid, we talk about this for three weeks, we put him in.”
“He’s tiny, he can’t keep his head up on his own,” Sid said, cupping the head in question carefully. Milo was nearly a month, and to be fair, he did have decent head control but really. The last thing he wanted was his son to flop out of the Cup.
Geno walked over and put his hand on Sid’s shoulder, looking at the Cup attendant with a smile. “Babies go in all the time, right?”
“Well, yes,” the attendant said, looking guiltily at Sid who was already death glaring him. “But I always leave it up to the… uh… parents?”
“PUT BRUDDER IN THE CUP! IN THE CUP!” Claire cried from at his feet. “YOU PROMMMISSSED.”
Sid frowned. Claire had a tendency to invoke ‘promise’ in any and all ways. “I never promised, Claire. I said that we might put him in the cup. Might.”
Geno bent down to pick up their wiggly three year old daughter and gave his best impression of Claire’s pleading look. “You promise, Sid. We keep our promise.”
“I didn’t promise,” Sid said.
“Is good luck, baby in Cup, Milo have picture when HE win cup.”
Sid glared again, this time at Geno. He knew the buttons to push, the jerk. He very tentatively looked at the Cup handler. “Would you take the picture?”
Claire and Geno let out simultaneous whoops of joy, followed by Claire wiggling out of Geno’s arms and running out of the room. Sid looked questioningly at Geno who shrugged but turned to follow her out. A minute or so later he found a shit eating grin on Geno’s face as he walked out with Claire in her “Crosby-Malkin” jersey and the tiny one they had for Milo in his hands.
“Claire very smart,” he said, handing over the tiny jersey to Sid. “I think Christmas photo?”
Milo already had a Pens onesie on, because really none of their teammates were that creative gift wise. (He did have to hand it to Duper who’d found an outfit that made him look like an actual Penguin, down to the tiny footies.)
He had to lay Milo down to get him into the jersey, which was a process unto itself but once he was finished and Milo had figured out he was not being mauled, just having a shirt put on and the pacifier was back in his mouth, he looked pretty damn cute. On the back it read “Crosby-Malkin 17”.
He got a little teary eyed and okay, maybe he wasn’t one hundred percent on the whole small child in the Cup thing but still. The Stanley Cup. With his son. It was kind of everything he could actually dream of from the time he was a child. So he let it go.
“Give him the camera, G.”
“Yes, Captain.”
He would say something back but there were children present. His children even. So he just thought the words really hard in Geno’s general direction. Geno probably didn’t catch any of it, as he was busy showing the perfectly capable man all the buttons on the easiest camera that they could buy.
Claire tugged on his t-shirt. “Daddy, I take care of brudder. That’s what big sister does.”
“That’s what big sisters do,” Sid corrected mindlessly. He still couldn’t correct ‘brudder’ as that was what Taylor had called him when she was little and he liked that he could pass that along. He smiled at her, though, before adding. “And I know you will, Clairey, I just worry.”
“Ugh, you always worry,” Claire said, rolling her eyes in the same way that Sid did. He couldn’t help but bust out laughing at that, which Milo did not appreciate in the least and started crying all over again.
Geno looked over. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, bouncing gently on the balls of his feet and shushing. “Picture?”
“Screaming baby in Cup not good luck, Sid.”
He rubbed Milo’s back and hummed, trying to think good thoughts. He knew that it probably wouldn’t work to just think at him, but it was better than bad thoughts, or even mild thoughts and he was always looking for the edge on calming him down. Geno had gotten Claire down easier, he was going to get this with Milo if it killed him.
After a long long long few minutes the baby was calm again, eyes closed and fingers softly curled into Sid’s shirt. Sid’s stomach hurt a bit at the idea of moving him but he figured their window was short, even if they did get the Cup for two days. He was just watching the clock till his family stormed the house.
“Okay Claire, you and Papa sit down and then I will sit down and put Milo in the Cup. Smile wide, we’re doing this fast, okay?”
“Promise,” she said, solemnly.
They had the Cup on the center of their fireplace, so Geno and Claire sat on one side with Claire on Geno’s lap. Sid sat down, taking the blanket off of his free shoulder and placing it in the silver bowl. He gently put Milo in, hand on his head like it was a literal tether.
Milo started to make a face and Sid was about three seconds from grabbing him out of the Cup and running when he saw little fingers grab even littler fingers.
Claire leaned over her brother and started to kiss his fingers. “Is okay, brudder. I right here. You okay.”
The baby settled down and Claire looked up at Sid with a grin.
“Big sister.”
He looked at the camera and smiled wider than he thought possible.
The handler got in a few really great photos that day but their Christmas photo was of the two of them leaning over watching their daughter kiss their son’s little fingers. It was the best Christmas photo ever.