thewordofweb | (no subject)

(no subject)

At around the age of two, I'd abandoned the thought of figuring out how to keep Sophie from sprinting away. Usually, she liked to lay claim to something. Other than building locked cabinets, that was about the only thing we learned and besides that, I tend to carry her more. "Now remember, kiddo, no stealing Uncle Skinny's things," I lecture as we stand by his door and I shift her in my arms, letting her play with my hair and idly agree.

"Skinny, you ready yet?" I call out, shifting the bag of things in my other arm while tugging on the ruffles of Soph's swimsuit.

"Uncle Skinny!" Sophie whines in addition. "Hurry up!"

"She'll mutiny. I believe her," I warn teasingly.

"What's mut'ny?" Sophie whispers against my ear and I busy myself fixing her hair (gaining control as she grows, some of Joe's consistency and style in the strands), whispering back the definition to her.

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"Bless him, he tries and tries and tries," sighs Skinny. Then he grins and swings Sophie closer. "All right, you ready for this? 'Cause I'm good at baseball, and I'm good at chucking people into water, and you know what? I'm also good at scaring fishes. It's one of my specialties. Your daddy's seen it for himself, isn't that right?"

"I have seen the throwing," I agree, choosing not to comment on the times when I've worried Skinny will be so angry with us that he pitches me over the side of the boat.

She clasped on tightly, biting her lip eagerly. "Ready!" she announced happily, plugging her nose with one hand and squeezing her eyes shut.

Only if they're asking for it, Web. Only if they're asking for it.

A mighty arc.

"One!"

A second.

"Two!"

He pulls back for the third--

"Oh! Off she goes!"

And for a moment, Sophie achieves flight.

She squeals as she's in the air and tucks into a little ball before she splashes in the water and I tense. I know she can capably swim, but as her father, I can't help but constantly worry, even as she doggy-paddles her way back after making a big splash, attaching herself to my side.

I hitch her up and brush wet hair away from her face. "That was fun?"

"Great!" she pipes up at Skinny. I let her go and she swims to his side. "Uncle Skinny, can I ride on your back like a turtle?"

He lifts both eyebrows and glances at Web.

"Do turtles give good rides? Hey, since when am I a turtle?"

He's playing, of course, but he might be gearing up for another toss, is all we're saying.

Sophie has begun to poke at his midsection furiously, fingers grabbing and holding tight. "Or dolphin! Or whale! Or something that gives me rides," she said stubbornly. "Or I'll scream!"

"No you will not," I sternly reprimand, a glare her way.

"...or not, Daddy."

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