New Year's Eve

"Shh...they're asleep," Caitlin murmurs as Barry turns in his chair, half lit by the credits of Inside Out that are rolling across the television screen. Smiling fondly, she nudges her chin in the direction of their girls: Cara is nestled up against her side, head pillowed on her thigh, breathing deeply and clutching her blanket to her chest while Kella is stretched out against the far couch cushion, buried in her pillows, legs impossibly tangled with her sister's.

From the corner of her eye, she watches Barry's head bob and shoulders shake with ill contained laughter, just barely muffled by his clenched jaw and raised hand. When he finally manages to get the sound under control, he's still grinning. "Ben too," but that's hardly a surprise: their ten month old has been blessedly regular about his sleeping patterns and could probably manage to slumber peacefully through the apocalypse (a theory Barry hopes dearly never to test; he bites his tongue whenever someone makes the analogy, given how frighteningly un-impossible that scenario is in their lives). Currently he's curled in his father's arms, still and wrapped snugly, because both girls had insisted that baby Ben couldn't miss family New Year's Eve movie night.

"How many years do you think we have until they can actually make it to midnight?" Barry whispers, shifting his weight carefully to stand without disturbing their youngest. He had thought that Kella, at nine now, would still be awake and ready for the ball drop (it's been their main point of excitement since about two days after Christmas: getting to stay up until midnight and watch movies and eat popcorn, per their family tradition) but he's pretty sure she'd been dozing on and off even before they started movie number three.

Careful not to wake Cara, or Kella by extension, Caitlin slips out from beneath her and follows Barry as he heads up to put Ben to bed. "If their ages were reversed, I think they would have made it tonight. Give Cara another year or two and she'll be ready to keep them both awake, all night if we let them." She is definitely her father's daughter: all endless energy and buoyant optimism (and reckless too, as her stitches this summer have made too obvious, much to Caitlin's chagrin). "Kella, on the other hand, probably wouldn't ever care without Cara to egg her on."

Once again Barry barely manages to stifle a chuckle, leaning down to settle Ben in his crib and pull a blanket over him. "That's probably true," he allows, turning to pull Caitlin into his arms while they watch quietly to make sure the baby remains sleeping. She breaks from the embrace for a moment, reaching to run her fingers gently through Ben's fine, dark hair. When she straightens, burrowing back into Barry's side, he turns to press a kiss against to her temple and nuzzle against her curls. "Wonder what he'll be like in a few years."

"Hopefully somewhere in the middle," Caitlin jokes as they quietly backtrack out of the room, catching up the baby monitor on their way out. "Less reckless than Cara, and you," she adds, poking him teasingly in the side and stressing the word, "at the very least."

"Well he already sleeps a lot more like Cara did as a baby, so you might be out of luck." (They will never not find Kella's exceptionally rough first few months ironic, given how mild and easy going she is, especially in contrast to her younger sister). "Speaking of, are we waking up the girls for midnight?"

They're at the top of the stairs now, which overlook the living room, where the title screen has taken back over, a quiet melody and the cast of bright colors washing over their still peacefully sleeping children.

"We probably should." Not that she really thinks it's wise to wake two otherwise perfectly sleeping kids but she can only imagine how disappointed they're going to be that they fell asleep, never mind that they would also miss the start of the new year. They'll be sleepy in the morning (Kella especially), but it's Friday and it's not like they have anywhere to be.

"Well it's only ten fifteen now," Barry says with a sudden grin, using the mild light to check the time on Grandpa West's old watch. "We could start another movie and let them sleep...Jurassic World?"

He sounds so hopeful, Caitlin can't help burst into giggles. "Oh yeah, let's wake the girls up to dinosaurs eating people-that's definitely going to make morning that much easier," she can just imagine their reactions.

"But, dinosaurs Cait!" He protests, grinning around the vague hint of warring enthusiasm and disappointment dancing in his eyes. "And science!" He adds, knowing how much she loves poking holes in the logic of the movie.

She has four children some days, she swears. "Barry," it's a groan but there's no real annoyance behind it, just fond exasperation.

"You know it's one of your favorites: we can turn the volume way down: we both know most of the words anyway."

"You're impossible," but he knows (because he's already beaming boyishly, tugging her close for a linger kiss) that she's caving.

She laughs against his mouth, which just gets him started, and then he's zipping off at super speed to get the movie set up before he's back to kiss her again, this time on the forehead, as the player loads. "I'll make more popcorn and bring some wine, we can cuddle in the arm chair until it's time to wake the girls."

And how can she honestly say no to all that?

Just another fluffy piece of quality family time. Hope you enjoyed!

Take Care & Best Wishes,

AOR