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Teddy's cap is missing which means Teddy is panicking. He may not wear it constantly any more, but he still won’t leave the house without it. The handyman is already running late for his current job and the stress is starting to stink...literally under his arms.
“Has anyone seen my cap?” Teddy bellows to no one in particular. The kids are in their rooms before school, while Bob and Linda are downstairs opening the restaurant. “It was right on the couch! Where did it go? Who took my cap?”
Tina and Gene stick their heads out of their rooms, matching faces of confused concern peering around their doors. Tina has her toothbrush in her mouth; Gene, a plain hot dog. Teddy is too distracted to be confused himself.
“Are you sure you didn’t leave it in your bedroom?” Gene asks, his voice muffled around the questionable meat.
Teddy almost makes a snide remark, except remembering that “his” bedroom is also Bob and Linda’s momentarily stops the big man in his tracks. Teddy suddenly grins widely as visions of bedroom activities–only some of which aren’t safe for work–dance through his head. Ever since dating Bob and Linda, Teddy’s never slept better.
An insistent beeping rudely interrupts his fantasies. Louise walks out of her room, playing a handheld game. On her head, covering her constant bunny ears, is his cap.
“My cap!” Teddy grabs the cap and pulls it over his head almost down to his eyes. Teddy doesn’t let go even as he interrogates the little girl. “Why do you have my cap, Louise?”
“Geez, Teddy,” Louise says as she straightens her ears and drops her game on the coffee table, “I was just borrowing it. We’re supposed to take pictures of ourselves in different careers for our unit on community involvement. Dad refused to let me pose with the kitchen knives.”
Tina takes out her toothbrush to wipe her mouth on her arm. “How is wearing a knit cap supposed to look like a career?”
Louise’s flat stare is unimpressed. “Teddy’s a handyman. He wears a cap. Ergo, caps mean handymen.”
“I don’t think that’s right…” Tina starts.
Gene cuts her off as he swallows the last of his morning snack. “Wait a minute! I remember that unit. ‘Honoring Our Community Heroes.’ I dressed up as Mom.”
“Community Heroes?” Teddy asks, finally dropping his hands from his cap. Louise doesn’t meet his eye, instead grabbing her backpack from the floor by the couch.
“Yeah, the kids pick someone they admire to dress up as. Then you have to write a report about them.” Tina turns towards Louise. “Are you going to actually turn in this one? I hate lying to Mickey.”
Louise rolls her eyes as she hefts her backpack onto her shoulder. “I was recovering from my father’s dangerous crisis! Besides, there’s like, a million more reports after this one for the unit. Missing one or two won’t kill my grade.”
“You’re writing about me?” Teddy asks. His eyes grow wet and Louise groans.
“Ugh, not if you make it a big thing! Also, I borrowed your drill. You might want to clean the bits. Apparently slime isn’t drillable.”
Teddy's eyes widen in alarm. “Kidding, kidding! Geez, you’re easy to spook.” Louise smirks as she makes her way to the door. “Seriously, though, clean your bits. Rust is bad for drills.”
Teddy moves to pick up his toolbox from the floor. He stops and turns back to the little girl. Dropping to his knees, Teddy suddenly hugs Louise to him.
“Oh my God, you big baby!” Louise exclaims–but her arms briefly encircle the man. “Get going before I really do use your drill–again–as punishment for this disgraceful display!”
Teddy laughs as he lets go, patting Louise’s bunny ears in solidarity. “I love ya, too, Louise.”