Author's Note: Another fic for Lenny Week 2014. The prompt for today is Babies/Kids. I hope you enjoy it.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Big Bang Theory or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I make no profit and no infringement of copyrights is intended.

"Patrick! Stop tickling your sister. You're going to make her sick!"

Leonard sighed, exasperated. He should have opted to take the baby for a diaper change and leave Penny in charge of the twins. No amount of poop could be worse than the aggravation of keeping two five year olds in control while they waited for mom and the baby to return.

But Penny was still a bit touchy where the baby was concerned. He knew that in her head she trusted him to care for three week old Amanda, but her heart was still bruised from nearly losing the baby in utero. Add the fact that Amanda's birth caused internal damage that left Penny unable to bear more children, and his wife only let the baby out of her sight when she fell asleep.

So it fell to him to keep two rambunctious youngsters from irreparably destroying their own meticulously manicured appearance, or from destroying the photography studio. Despite his efforts, in the three minutes that Penny had been gone, Patrick managed to twist Jennifer's skirt around so the zipper was now in the front, slightly off center. Jennifer, not about to allow such treatment to go unanswered, pulled Patrick's tie up so that it's knot poised just on his chin, the tail jutting out a bit and bobbing up and down whenever he opened his mouth. Her brother then resorted to a tried but true retaliation and started tickling his sister. One of the major differences between the twins, besides gender, was that Jennifer inherited her father's asthma. Tickling led to over stimulation and breathless laughing, which often resulted in an attack. Each time, his parents patiently tried to explain the danger to their young son, in a way that would not convey guilt or blame. Each time, he seemed to understand, but in the heat of sibling battle, his memory obviously failed.

Leonard waded into the fray, grabbed one twin by the collar and the other by the waistband and separated them. Determining that Jen was the waistband he was holding in his right hand, he looked her over quickly and carefully to see if there were any signs of imminent attack.

Determining that Jen seemed to have survived the latest tickle fight, he took inventory. Both twins' curly blond hair was now in complete disarray. At least one of them got into the bowl of chocolate candies in the lobby, despite a variety of parental threats. The evidence was vividly displayed in light brown smudges around their mouths, as well as a distinct fingerprint stain planted on Jen's formerly pristine white blouse. Buttons had come open and Jen's hair ribbon was nowhere to be seen.

Amid only half-joking thoughts of putting the twins up for adoption, Leonard began the job of damage control.

He steered the twins back to the seating area and plunked them down on either end of a long sofa. Death glares were employed in the direction of his only son. Words were not necessary. His message was amply conveyed. Any movement, the slightest breath, and Patrick Hofstadter would be pushing up daisies. Leonard turned to address the sartorial condition of his daughter, while keeping one eye focused on the other miscreant.

Pulling a baby wipe out of the plastic baggy he kept in one of his pants pockets, he wiped her mouth and hands. Swiping once or twice at the stain on her blouse, he determined the effort was only spreading the stain, and decided he would just have to leave that alone and hope that the photographer could Photo-Shop that out. He re-buttoned buttons, straighten her collar, tucked her blouse back into her skirt and turned it so that the zipper was once again centered properly in the back. Using his fingers, he brushed lightly through the tight, shiny blond curls and wondered again at the glossy beauty that resulted from the mix of his and Penny's genes. In about six or seven years, he would have to lock this child in an ivory tower. He was certain that randy young men would be flocking to her door and he was determined not to share her with anyone, let alone some teenage version of Howard Wolowitz!

He gave his handiwork a once over and decided that he'd done his best. Getting up from where he'd been sitting on the sofa, he picked Jen up and twirled her around in a mock waltz step that caused her to giggle with glee before he firmly sat her down and admonished her to sit still and quiet for a few minutes while he completed similar repairs on her brother.

That Leonard loved his son was beyond question. That he did not have the same connection with Patrick that he did with Jen was also plain to anyone who observed the three for more than two minutes. At five years old, Patrick was already every thing his father never was. He loved any and all sports and could run, jump, throw and hit better than any of his playmates, and with boundless energy. He also understood the nuances of rules and strategy, so he was unquestionably smart. It was yet to be seen if the boy would apply any of his intelligence to more scholarly pursuits or if he would simply be the smartest jock in school. And he was tall! The boy already stood nearly four feet tall – well above the average. Leonard assumed Patrick's height came from Wyatt. He wasn't looking forward to the day when his own son would tower above him, just like most of the rest of the world.

Leonard held the boy firmly while he adjusted buttons and belts, tucked in a shirttail and thriftily used the same wipe on Patrick's chocolate stained fingers and face that he used on Jen. Another quick finger comb through blond curls – these considerably shorter – and Patrick was restored as best as could be managed. Grabbing the boy about the waist, he likewise twirled his son – this time more in the fashion of an airplane – and sat him firmly on his side of the sofa.

He was just about to step back to get a better look at the pair when he heard Penny's four-inch heels clicking across the floor.

"Holy cr…crumbs on a cracker!" she exclaimed. "Did you three decide to roll around like mud wrestlers while I was changing the baby? Leonard?"

Leonard turned and felt a sheepish grin tug at the corners of his mouth. His perfectly coiffed and immaculately dressed wife stood behind him, holding his equally perfectly swaddled and peacefully sleeping youngest child. The look on her face could have peeled paint off walls.

He sighed heavily. "You know how they can get," he grumbled. It's like herding a pack of monkeys on uppers."

"Daddy?" he heard his daughter, "what's a upper?"

Penny turned and smiled at the now perfectly behaved, if somewhat disheveled little girl. "What's an upper, sweetie. And it's a drug that gives people a whole lot of energy. But you know what we say about drugs."

"Just say NO!" chimed both children in a chorus.

"Right!" both parents answered, beaming and nodding their heads.

Penny surveyed her brood once more, then turned back to her husband. "There's no way we'll get another sitting in time to get our Christmas cards sent out, so we'll just have to make the best of things today. I'll let you explain to your mother why her grandchildren look like a pair of hooligans when I had them looking so sweet and handsome just ten minutes ago!"

Penny beckoned to the twins to follow her, and with Leonard bringing up the rear, the family entered the studio and sat for their annual holiday portrait. Leonard sat with his little princess on his knee, while Penny sat cradling the baby. Patrick stood in front of his parents, his father's hand companionably on his shoulder. Two weeks later the photographer delivered the completed portraits by e-mail. Several poses were framed in holly and silver bells to be sent with the family's Christmas greetings to friends and relatives.

"Sheldon!" Amy called to her husband. "Come in to the office! We just got a Christmas e-mail from Leonard and Penny!"

Sheldon came in to the room and leaned over his wife's shoulder to view the electronic greeting on the oversized monitor they kept on the desk.

"Isn't baby Amanda adorable?" Amy gushed. "Doesn't she make you want to get started on one of our own?"

"All in good time, Amy," came the expected answer. "We've only been married for three years. If we start having children now we'll be missing out on our needed 'getting to know each other time'."

"I know you Sheldon, believe me, I know you!" Amy mumbled, disgruntled as usual by her husband's relentless resistance to change.

"Hmmm," he commented. "Just look at the twins. So untidy. I supposed I shouldn't be surprised that the woman who couldn't keep her apartment neat would raise a pair of disorderly ruffians!"

4 June 2014