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It had been such a nice day up until this point. Brendon had managed to convince (read intimidate) Robby into giving you a day off, meaning that for the first time in about three months, you both had an entire weekend free to spend together. Or more important, a weekend free to spend as a family.
Your four year old daughter, Isla, was sitting on your lap, as you tried to convince her to eat the picnic lunch you had packed. She was, however, far more interested in watching her Dad feed her baby sister.
It was always hard to tear Brendon away from his daughters, when he was home he always had at least one of them in reaching distance. The Shark of PTMC had turned out to be a massive softie when it came to his girls, not that he would admit that to any of his coworkers. In fact, he had gone out of way not to mention anything about his personal life to anyone he worked with.
So when he got to the time to give his girls attention, he revelled in it. Which is why it had been such a nice day up until now.
It had been an innocent comment which had started the whole thing. A woman had approached Brendon as he held baby Edith’s bottle to her lips. “Oh my! You are such a good dad.”
Brendon stopped dead, tearing his gaze up from Edith and to the woman who stood far too close to him. “What?”
She didn’t seem to notice Brendon’s obvious distaste for her, or the fact she had stepped on one of Isla’s teddy bears. “I mean, I could never even get my husband to hold our kids as newborns. It’s women’s work after all. You’re such a good dad for stepping in for your wife.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.” Brendon said as if venom dripped through his words despite him keeping his voice low for the baby. “This does not make me a good dad. It makes me a dad. Maybe you should've married someone who actually cared enough about your children to actually feed them.”
You looked up from Isla at that, trying to stop him before he brought ‘The Shark’ out in front of his children. “Bren, just drop-”
“Or better yet, maybe you should just shut your damn mouth.”
“Daddy said a bad word!” Isla practically squealed, and as she tried to squirm towards Brendon. Watching her dad, who was always calm and happy, misbehave and ‘break the rules’ in any way was so fun. “That means he gets time out.”
You try to tug her back. “Baby, this is a grown up conversation…”
“Daddy said ‘damn’’. Isla smiled. This did, however, manage to pull Brendon away from his argument.
“See, look what you’ve done lady. Just go,” with that, he turned and crouched down in front of you and Isla, “Baby you can’t say bad words. Now we both need time out, unless Mummy thinks we can get away with it this one time?”
You smiled at them, “Nope, you both get time out when we get home. Although, if you and daddy buy me an ice cream, I’m sure that equates to a time out.”
Crouching down, Brendon passes Edith, and her half-empty milk bottle, over to you, before scooping Isla up, swinging her around as he stands. “C’mon baby, let's get all the ice cream before Mummy really puts us in timeout!”
By the time you looked up from the baby, Brendon and Isla were already jogging towards the little brick cafe, on the very important mission of getting ice cream cones.