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Clark Kent woke up just like any Saturday morning. He was up before his wife and his girls tending to the chores on the farm. Sometimes his daughters, Ella and Lara, would hear him and want to help him in some way. He enjoyed teaching them about farm life just as his father had taught him. But that particular morning it was just him, trying to get things done for the busy morning ahead.
His typical duties had to be amended for years since fatherhood, due to the drafted schedules he had to memorize and work his life around. There was a whiteboard hanging in the kitchen, color coded, indicating days of carpools, pick-ups, drop-offs, playdates, games, etc. All of which was Lois’ creation and her attempt to organize the chaos of having two kids and two (three? four?) careers. He and his wife split their time over who was driving who and where and the calendar color of blue mandated that it was his morning off---until Lois had gotten a call the night before about being a guest on Metropolis 1’s morning news to talk about her breaking story about the Metropolis Transit Authority rail line president embezzling money from new projects. Her tasks of the morning shifted to him.
He wasn’t necessarily complaining. Had he been looking forward to a quiet morning on the farm before heading over to watch his daughter play soccer? Sure. Was he upset that he now had to lasso his girls into getting ready and not dawdle at the risk of being late? Nah. The sun had just risen and thinking of his daughters only made it brighter. The tornado of craziness that sometimes created only made it more interesting.
He was at the end of his list and had been chopping wood when he heard the screen door close. He watched as Lois waited on the porch with her cup of coffee in her mama bear cup. She was striking in her black dress and hoop earrings as she had her hair in a loose ponytail.
Leaving the ax in the stump, he tossed off his gloves and headed for the vision before him.
“Wow,” he said walking up the steps.
Her eyes scanned his body. She had been enjoying the show, watching his muscles and strength under the plaid as he used the ax in such a manly manner. Even though he’d had his powers back for sometime, he still did most jobs on the farm at the same pace unless his frustration expedited it. He had enjoyed what they referred to as his “sabbatical” and he still wasn’t back to his super-work full time. He soaked up as much as he could being a dad and husband---the end of the world being the only means of dragging him away for too long, as a team of heroes had other avenues covered. She loved watching him in his many roles, but it was very satisfying when he was visibly content and relaxed with the pastoral backdrop.
“Yeah?” she asked, offering him something to drink after working so hard. She hadn’t been sure what to wear with the last minute notification and just threw it on.
He graciously took the mug and sipped, his lips on the rim as he told her, “Absolutely.”
She smiled and slightly blushed as she momentarily looked down. He still made her feel butterflies with just a look after all these years.
Lifting her eyes back up she asked, “And you’re still okay with the switcher-roo of the morning?”
He put the drink on the rail, “It’ll be fine. Are the girls still sleeping?”
“Sugar plums were still dancing in their heads before I came down stairs. You probably have thirty more minutes before chaos reigns,” she warned.
“I’m sorry I can’t drive you in.”
“That defeats the purpose of the station sending a car and making me feel all special.”
He playfully pouted as he took a step toward her and said, “I thought I made you feel special.”
“Oh, you do, honey.” she said tugging at his red and black checkered shirt. “That’s a special kind of special.”
He chuckled. He turned as his ears picked up tires on the gravel driveway. Soon a black town car was rolling up alongside his red truck.
“Oh, my chariot awaits.” she said, grabbing her black work bag from the porch swing. “I’ll meet you down at the field as soon as I can.”
She stood on her tippy toes and gave him a kiss. It was supposed to be quick, but lingered just a little longer.
“Good luck,” he told her.
She patted him on his chest. “Right back at you.”
He smiled wide. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” She started to walk away and was halfway down the steps when she stopped in her tracks, reluctant to leave just yet. Her job was important and Perry had pushed for her to get on Metropolis 1, but her family came first and a tiny twinge of doubt about leaving was eating at her.
In classic Lois fashion she spun around and started to ramble as she walked back up the steps, “I left the girls little notes on the counter, mom stuff--- how much I love them, don’t annoy each other---and one is just some pre-game pep talk stuff, and I don’t want Ella to get all nervous because she has a tendency to start to overthink before she goes out on the field and when tha--”
He took his wife by the shoulders, the overthinking she had mentioned clearly consuming her at the moment. He needed to assure her that her temporary absence for work wasn’t going to lead to catastrophe. He pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back comfortingly.
“Lois, it’s going to be okay. The girls know how much you love them. And they also know how amazing you are, which is why you’re on TV this morning. You’ll be back before you know it.”
She closed her eyes and took in his words. He always knew how to calm her down, just as she did when the roles were reversed.
“I seem to remember these conversations going the other way.”
“You get to be the superhero today,” he said as they pulled away and his nose brushed up against hers. “And you don’t want to miss your ride.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
His hands fell to his sides and she walked down the steps again repeating and coaching, “Okay.” She turned again. “But what if Lara wants her---” she was going to tell him about Lara’s shirt to diffuse a possible Kryptonian level meltdown when Clark cut her off by simply saying her name. She breathed again. “Okay.”
When she made it to the back door of the town car, she turned and blew him a kiss. He caught the invisible love signal and put his fist to his chest, over his heart. She gave him one more wave before opening the door disappearing into the back seat. He watched the car back down the driveway and once it was out of view he picked up the mug and walked back into the house.
It was quiet as he took a sip from the warm coffee. He knew he didn’t have long so he savored the moment and the drink as he peaked at the whiteboard hanging in the kitchen.
Thirty minutes later, right on the mark, he heard the creaking of the floorboards and footsteps from above.
The day had officially started.
The morning began with his seven and five year old bumping into each other and complaining constantly in the bathroom, the fight for the sink and comparing toothpaste spit ---then cleaning up the mess--- had taken up a good half hour. Getting dressed had been thought to be easy for Ella, who only needed her uniform, but she had failed to organize her things the night before, thus having to conduct the investigation of the missing cleat and shin guard, both for her right leg. They were curiously found in a haystack in the barn. Then Lara couldn’t find her favorite red shirt to match Ella’s jersey. After a search of all drawers and closet space, Lara tearing up and crying that her shirt was gone forever and dramatically running through the house, it was later safely retrieved from the dryer in the fresh laundry pile Lois had done the night before.
The crisis was averted.
After beds were made, the girls were finally downstairs making their own breakfast (and exercising their independence skills) after reading and comparing the notes their mother had left for them. Ella went to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk. Instead of pouring it into a glass or her bowl, she started to drink from it.
“Ella!”
“What? It tastes better from the bottle.”
He handed her a glass and silently sent apologies to his own mother for his own similar behavior as an adolescent.
“Mommy is on TV!!” Lara called out as she ran with her bowl.
The three crammed around the small television on the edge of the kitchen to get a glimpse of her.
“She looks so pretty,” Ella gushed as she poured milk into her bowl and helped her sister with hers.
He looked down at his daughter who held many of her mother’s features and mannerisms. They both did. Ella’s darker hair and swirling warmth of blue and green in her eyes was more reminiscent of him, but the way Ella held herself and the sway of her ponytail in the energy she exuded was all Lois. Lara’s hair was a lighter shade of brown with golden streaks, which were reflected in the golden flecks in her greener eyes. She was more reserved, like him, but tended to have moments of assertive flair like her mom. They were the perfect mixture of the both of them as far as he was concerned.
“Daddy, how come you’re not on TV with Mommy?” Lara asked, trying not to drip milk on her red shirt.
“Because this was your Mom’s story.”
“Don’t you write your stories together?” Ella asked.
“Not always. We help each other, but your mom did more work on her own with this one, so she gets to have the credit.” he explained.
When Lois smiled at the camera and winked they all knew she was really looking at them and sending a message.
“I love Mom,” Ella sighed.
“Me, too. But, I love her more.” Lara rivaled.
“Nuh uh!”
“Yeah huh!”
Clark butted in to the argument. “I love her the most. So, finish eating and then grab your soccer bag, Ella.”
Ella’s soccer bag was actually his old red knapsack that he used when he was in high school. She had adopted it as her own when she found it in the trunk in the loft.
The girls speedily ate their meals, throwing their dishes into the sink, and then retreated to the living room.
"Dad! Dad! Watch this move!" Ella called out, shuffling her feet with the ball between them as she juggled her backpack and Lara’s defense.
"Girls, don't play ball in the house," he reprimanded.
Ella pouted as she picked up the soccer ball. Lara then mimicked her sister. Both girls ran back into the kitchen and Ella put her bag on the counter waiting for it to be filled.
"You can show me outside." he told her to ease her sadness. He then checked his watch and saw that he needed to get her down to the field. He grabbed the snack bags and water bottles and felt his anxiety rising in the process. He shoved the items into the bag. "We've got to go."
"Mom always brings two water bottles for me." Ella pointed out, noticing it was just one for her and her sister respectively.
"Right." He went back over and filled up a second one. His boy scout aligned thoughts to always be prepared pushed to the forefront of his mind. He thought about Lara and filled up yet another bottle, then threw that one into the bag as well, finally zipping it up. "Okay, let's go."
He opened the side door and the girls went first and he double checked to make sure they had everything they needed. He picked up his keys, sunglasses and black hat that were sitting by the door. Opting for sunglasses instead of his black frames was a great alternative in his disguise with the public. The hat he added along the way to double down on hiding, not necessarily his face but more so from some of the parents.
Ella dropped her soccer ball on the ground, following his instructions to wait until she was outside, and called out, "Dad, watch!"
He turned to see her bypass her sister and kick her ball straight into the field. There was high pitched mooing as the ball sailed past the cows at a good clip.
Ella raised her hands to her mouth, eyes wide. It hadn’t been her intention to hit the ball so far. She lowered her hands and uttered, "Oops."
Clark sighed. "A good example of why we don't kick the ball in the house."
"I'll be more careful at the game."
"I know you will. But we have to get there first."
The girls hopped into the back seat of the four door red pick up truck and Clark made sure they were strapped in correctly, adding the backpack snugly between them. He rounded back to the driver's seat. He put his sunglasses on and adjusted the black cap on his head before turning over the engine.
As they went down the driveway and on to the street his youngest made a request.
"Mom usually puts on pre-game music."
She was right. Lois had a whole routine when she was on game day duty and it usually included her own version of Jock Jams.
"I'll see what I can do," he told them, pressing icons on the touchscreen and trying to find their shared music app. He found a playlist titled “Little Monsters of Rock” and he knew he had found the right one. He hit play and the car filled with heart pumping guitar riffs and drum beats. Arms waved and feet kicked in the back seat the whole car trip.
At the field, Ella exited out of the car and hurried to where the team was congregating, a sea of red Crows jerseys. He held Lara's hand as he grabbed Ella's bag and walked in the same direction. He recognized some of the parents. Instead of sitting in the stands, they were in a huddle with distress on their faces. When they saw his brawny figure getting closer they perked up.
Kevin Pullman, Jake's dad he recalled, was the first to speak. "Kent, thank God you're here."
"What's wrong?"
"As you know, Tony is away on business and can't make it to coach today."
"What about the assistant coach?" he asked.
He watched as Josh Warren, the man in question and Kayla's dad, walked over to him holding his stomach. "I had a breakfast burrito this morning. It's not sitting well." He winced as he took out his whistle necklace from his pocket and slapped it in Clark’s empty hand. "You're in charge now."
Clark's eyebrows rose in surprise above his glasses. "Me?"
"You're next on the chain of command. Well, Lois actually is, but since you're here." Kevin told him.
Clark usually liked to keep a low profile and he was being thrust into the spotlight. He couldn't find the words to say no. He resigned himself to the fact he had been chosen and Clark Kent rarely, if ever, declined to help when others were in need.
Also, probably thought of as a pushover.
"Okay."
"Great!" Kevin smiled.
There was a sense of relief amongst all the parents.
He felt a tug at his arm. Lara looked up at him. "Are you the new coach, Daddy?"
"For today." he sighed and patted her on the head. "And I'm going to need an assistant, you think you're up for it?"
Her little eyes shined. "I can do it, Daddy! I'm a really good helper."
"Alright. Then your first job is to round up all the kids."
"You got it, Dad.” She paused. “Coach.” She paused again and settled on, “Coach Dad!" She saluted him and he shook his head with a grin. It was one of the things she picked up from her military trained grandfather and did in times she felt were serious. She ran off and started to run circles around the team like she was herding cattle.
He walked over to the bench and picked up the clip board with the names of the players, some of their basic plays, and a score sheet to fill out.
"What's going on, Dad?" Ella asked, walking up to him and leading her team.
"Looks like I'm coaching for today."
"He's Coach Dad, now!" Lara told her.
“What happened to Mr. Warren?”
“Maybe an El Intestino Buster,” he mumbled to himself, thinking back fondly on his old friend Bart. He then voiced louder, “He wasn’t feeling well.”
The kids stared blankly at him and he felt that his face was just as blank. He wasn’t exactly sure on how to approach the situation. He had been in leadership roles before, even in sports, but having a seven-year-olds looking up at him like he was a giant was daunting, for all of them.
“Uh…”
Ella jumped in front of him and looked at her teammates, her hands on her hips as she displayed the number eight on her chest.
“This is my dad. He knows about sports. He won a football championship.”
There were gasps and utterings of “cool” as the kids looked at him like a pro-football player.
“He’s really smart. So, listen up.” She turned and smiled at him. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he grinned. He connected back to the eleven pairs of eyes on him. “Does everyone know their positions?”
There was a mass nodding of heads and he was relieved.
“Good. So, when you get on the field, just take your regular spot."
“And then when you get the ball you can just kick it to me,” Ella announced.
“ Or… ” he stressed, “you can all make your own decisions on who to pass you. Do what feels right.”
“But---”
He looked directly at his daughter. "A good leader knows when to let others do their job."
She tightened her lips and nodded.
“Work together out there. Trust each other. And have a good time.” He was amazed that he had their unwavering attention. He could hear his wife’s voice saying something about his other superpower: his motivational speeches. “Okay, I think your regular coach has you put your hands in, right?”
The kids put their arms in, following their routine, and then lifted them up with “Go Crows!”
"Ella…" he called out.
She stopped and turned. "Be careful?"
"Have fun," he corrected.
Her mouth curved upward and she ran back. She gave him a big hug, squeezing him extra tight, then ran out to play.
Lara then grabbed his leg and looked up at him, her chin resting on his knee. "What now?"
"We support the team."
"I can do that." She dropped her hold on him and screamed, "GO ELLA AND OTHER RED TEAM PEOPLE! NOT THE PURPLE TEAM PEOPLE!"
The purple team being the Grandville Royals.
He shook his head and held a laugh. He kept one eye on Lara and the other on the team. He cheered them on with claps and gave them compliments on their efforts of offense and defense as the opposing team scored two goals. He offered them guidance and motivation, the best he could in the sport, but reiterated for them during their breaks to enjoy themselves on the field. It seemed to be paying off as they scored two goals in order to tie the game.
Behind the field, Lois raced across the parking lot in her heels, feeling like a hot mess, after the car dropped her off. She first looked to the back of the stands where Clark liked to sit but didn’t see him. She didn’t see Lara either. Panic began to set in until she saw her little girl jumping up and down on the front single bench and then lifting her arms and shaking them in frustration as the ball was taken by the opposing team.
“What’s going on down here?” she asked from behind them.
“Lois!” “Mommy!” both squealed as they turned with bright smiles. Clearly they were excited to see her.
"Why are you two down here?" she asked again.
"Daddy is the coach!" Lara revealed in delight.
"For today!" he quickly added.
Lois started to laugh at her husband's face. She couldn't believe she had missed his debut. She would have to nicely ask some of the other parents if they recorded and took pictures. She didn't want them to hoard all these Kodak moments.
“How did that happen?”
“Someone signed up in the chain,” he said, eyeing her.
She flinched, realizing she had indeed signed her name up, and Clark by proxy it seemed, if the coach and assistant coach were both unavailable. She steered the conversation back to the field with, "How's the game?"
"Tied," he told her, slightly boasting as he bounced on his feet.
"Get the ball! Get the ball!" Lara called out.
"Someone is enthusiastic." Lois remarked.
Lara shook her hands in the air as she said, annoyed, "I keep telling them to get the ball and go the other way!"
"Looks like you got your little co-pilot here." Lois said as she ruffled the hair on Lara’s head.
"We've been managing."
She bumped him in the shoulder with her own. "You found your inner Gordon Bombay?"
Amused at the comparison, he replied, "If you want to call it that."
She lifted Lara into her arms, resting the little girl's weight on her hip. "Alright you mighty duckling, your duty is done."
"Aw, but I like it." she whined.
Clark cajoled his wife to assist with his smooth words and charming smile, saying, "I could use another co-pilot."
"Okay. You got it." She then stood on her tippy toes and whispered breathily in his ear, "Coach."
He stifled a guttural noise that aroused inside of him. It was the same sensation he knew Lois felt when he called her "Miss Lane". This was going to present different possibilities and difficulties for them. She hit the brim of the hat he was wearing with the tip of her finger. She was very satisfied with the result the new nickname had.
He glanced back at the field, paying attention to the team, and watched the play unfold.
Ella looked toward the bench and saw that her mother had arrived. She waved, distracted for a moment, but her focus went back to the game as she saw Joey get the ball. Her teammate passed to her and she caught it with her foot like she had been practicing. Once in control she was running down the field.
"Go! Go! Go, honey!" Lois yelled.
"Go, Ella!" Lara clapped.
She was beginning to get blocked. She could have kept the ball and done the play herself, but she remembered what her father, and coach said, and kicked it to her teammate Madison. Madison was good at kicking from a corner and was in the best position. As expected, she kicked and the goalie missed. The ball rolled into the net. It was the game winning goal.
The Kent's burst out in cheers from the sidelines. And the spectators on the bleachers behind them erupted.
"Ella Kent with the assist!" Lois yelled as Ella ran over to them.
“You did a great job!” Clark told her.
"It was a good plan, Dad." Ella told him.
"Well your father knows a thing or two about teamwork." Lois said, rubbing his arm.
The kids celebrated and then lined up to slap hands with the other team and say "good game" repeatedly until the last player made it to the end.
“Everyone should feel really good about themselves. You worked together and were able to succeed. Win or not, what you accomplished out there together was the real victory.”
“You helped us, Mr. Kent.” “Yeah, you did a good job too.” some of the players voiced to him.
“Let’s cheer for my dad!” Number 8 shouted.
All the kids were animated as they screamed their praises. Ella wrapped her arms around his legs. Then all the kids tried to pile on in a group hug. It was the cutest and sweetest thing. And Lois made sure she got a picture. He always had a way with kids.
As the team dispersed, Ella still hung on to him. “Thanks, Dad.”
“For what?”
“For being my dad and the best coach ever.”
He wanted to melt into a puddle. There was nothing that made him weaker than his daughters telling him how much they adored and appreciated him.
“Hey Phil Jackson, are you and Air Jordan ready to go?” Lois called out, still carrying Lara, while balancing her work bag on her other shoulder. She hated to break up their moment, but she also couldn’t wait to get home after a long morning.
Clark tilted his head and Ella unlocked from him and took his hand instead. They caught up with Lois and Lara and the family walked back to the truck together. After getting their kids in the back seat, the couple stood together, smirks adorning their faces.
“You enjoyed seeing that, didn’t you?” he asked.
She pointed at him. “You enjoyed doing it, I can see it.” He turned to get around the truck and she glanced down. Before she could stop herself, and in the spirit of the event, she said, “Good game,” and slapped his butt.
"Lois!” he hissed as he jumped from the contact. He whipped around, his eyes darting in all directions, and said, “The kids! And the parents!"
"What?" she shrugged, as she opened the passenger door, "it's just good sportsmanship."
He smiled wide and laughed. The morning had certainly been active, but with his wife back it she brought with her an extra spice. He adjusted his cap before ultimately taking it off and tossing at her jokingly.
She caught it and put it on her head backwards. “Mine now.”
He stared at her intently, his voice low as he told her, “Looks good on you.”
“Let’s gooooooooo!” the girls called out.
A common occurrence, the couple tabled their flirtatious ways and just smiled joyfully before joining their girls inside the vehicle.
Later that night, and after a more restful afternoon (midday naps for the girls had been a pleasurable respite) Clark and Lois were getting ready for bed after tucking Ella and Lara in. While they might usually stay up a little later than their children, both were exhausted from the day's events.
"Joey's mom sent me some videos from the game." Lois commented, moving the covers from her side of the bed.
Clark turned off the big light and walked to his side. "That's good. So you didn’t miss the game after all."
He failed to realize that while she did watch the clips of their daughter playing, she was also admiring the view of her husband from just the right angle.
She cleared her throat. "Our kid has talent, Smallville. You were the 'golden arm' of football and she's got the 'golden legs' of futbol'. "
"She's seven, Lois. And…"
"If you're going to add that she's got your Krypto genes, and crease your forehead in worry about it--- I'm going to stop you right there. Half of those genes are mine, buddy. And we both know who she takes after more."
He nodded in agreement. "You're right "
"Mmmhmm."
He stifled a yawn. It surprised him since he rarely had them, but his body was reminding him to take it easy.
"Tired?" she asked.
"Of trying to wrangle and tell kids how to work together? And then do the same thing at home? A little."
"So, it was no different than League duties," she joked.
"I think the kids are easier."
Her head fell back as she howled, "Ha! I bet."
They slipped under the covers together and soon they were wrapped up in each other's arms, feelings cozy as they snuggled closer, Lois’ head on his shoulder.
"It was a good day," Clark reflected.
She patted his chest. "Maybe you found another calling."
"Youth soccer?"
She rolled her eyes. "Or maybe just taking on leadership roles in a new way. You heard your daughter today. She was proud of you and got to show you off in a way she usually can't."
"I'll think about it."
"In the meantime,” the fingers on his chest started to walk lazily toward his neck, “I get to gush about how I adored your new role."
"Yeah?" he asked, turning his head slightly.
"We can play our own game "
He could feel the strike and spark, kindling desire inside him and occupying in many locations, but feeling it burn in the area behind his eyes.
"We can?"
She nodded and whispered sensually, "Put me in, Coach. I can bring the heat."
He leaned to kiss her. "Don't I know it."
As they were closing the gap between their pairs of lips, Clark could hear the pattering of feet, that should be asleep by now, downstairs. Then there was the sound of glass shattering. A tiny "Oops" in his ears.
Both parents closed their eyes and shook their heads.
"She does take after you," Clark said exiting the bed.
"Yeah, because I’m the one always making a mess? I was talking before about her awesome skills. Clark Kent is always picking up after himself." Lois said, putting on her robe and following him out of their room.
"That's an act, " he said at the top of the stairs.
"Then she puts the ‘El’ in Ella. You forget the stories your mother has told me, Mr. Broke-the-dining-room-table-in-half-at-three," she teased. "And then you did it again about twenty years later…"
His cheeks started to redden as he flashed back to an enthusiastic after-dinner tryst with his then fiancé and the accidental splintering and eventual split that occurred on the table.
"You broke the bathroom sink," he countered with, recalling when they moved into their first apartment and she surprised him, her hands really, and he was caught off guard causing an unfortunate incident with the sink.
She raised her finger at him. "I still say that was you."
They both looked down to see their daughter at the bottom of the stairs in her donut print pajamas with her soccer ball rolling past her feet. She was giving them her best expression of sadness and innocence in her eyes.
"What happened?" Clark asked.
She looked around, a twitch in her face, as she lamely blamed, "The dog did it?"
"We don't have a dog." Lois reminded her.
She perked up with bright eyes and asked, "Can we get one?"
He looked at Lois. That question wasn't going away any time soon.
“Ella…”
“Okay, okay, it was me.” she confessed, as if it were a surprise. “I just wasn’t sleepy and wanted to play. I had too much fun today.”
"Go get the dustpan and broom, Ms. Messi." her mother said, pointing to the closet. Lois then looked at Clark. "That works on two levels," she said, holding up two fingers and proud of herself for referring to the soccer player and the conditions before them.
Ella got to work cleaning, blowing hair out of her face. She knew she was caught and the start of her penance would be to clean the fragments of a broken vase. Her father brought over the garbage can so she could put the shattered pieces in.
While Lois was aware they were on the edge of scolding and lecturing their daughter, she couldn’t help the urge and opportunity to make a basket in the open can as she picked up the ball.
"Smallville, heads up." Lois said, throwing the soccer ball.
He was hyper-focused on helping their daughter, making sure all the bits of glass were off the floor to not harm anyone’s feet, that even with his powers it was too late. The ball veered from its target and hit the lamp on the side table, knocking it over and cracking it.
"Oops," Lois laughed nervously.
Clark sighed and shook his head. He grumbled to himself, "This is why we don't play with the ball in the house."
She turned to him guilty and shrugged. "Maybe I was right the first time. More me."
Satisfied with the cleanliness of the floor, he shifted the dustpan over to his wife.
"Lucky for you, you covered this in your vows." he said, kissing her on the cheek as she accepted the cleaning utensil.
She quickly quoted, "Life is supposed to be a little messy?"
He placed his forehead on hers. "Exactly."
“I’ll help you, Mom.” Ella said, bringing over the broom.
Lois crouched down to her daughter’s level. “This doesn’t get you out of trouble.”
“I know,” she sang.
Clark glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the cross stitch that his mother had made after Lara was born. "Bless This Mess", stitched in red and blue and encircled by sunflowers, hung proudly on the living room wall.
They were blessed every day with every moment they spent together. They had signed up for marriage first and then parenthood long ago. They couldn’t imagine doing anything else, messy or not.
It was a job just for them and they were grateful for every second of it.