No Smut (Scömìche One Shots)

Child's Play

A/N: @PTX_Pentaholic99 gave me this idea, too, so yeah. This girl is so full of ideas I envy her.

"Scott, we've been married for a while now, I think we're ready for this, babe!"

"You may be ready," Scott counters. "But I certainly am not."

"C'mon Scott! You love kids! And kids love you!" I begged.

I've been trying to convince Scott about adopting a child for a solid three weeks now.

We've talked about it before, and he always said, "Maybe someday."

Well, why can't someday be today?

Now that I think about it... I should've said that.

Anyway, back to our argument.

"Both are true, but I don't think I'm ready to give up my time and my sleep for a kid just yet." Scott replies. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the gym." He adds, grabbing his keys and heading for the door.

"Scottyyyy!" I cried melodramatically, reaching for him. But then, I slipped and instinctively tried to grab onto Scott for support, but I ended up pushing him off the front doorstep.

There was a sickening crack! and Scott lies on the ground, motionless.

"Scott!" I yelled, rushing to him. "Scott, speak to me."

Scott groans before sitting up. He looks at me, confused at first, then he beams like a little kid. "Daddy!" He squeals, opening his arms.

"Oh, no..." I muttered.

Scott clenches and unclenches his hands like a baby would do when it wants to be picked up.

"Daddyyyy!" He coos, giggling.

"No! Nooooo no no, I am not picking you up."

Scott gasps a little, then his arms slowly drops as he began to cry.

"No, Scotty, don't cry!" I said, sitting next to him. "It's just... you're taller than me, bigger than me, more muscular, physically dominant overall. You would be very hard to pick up. My short, petite body couldn't handle having that much weight on it, ya know?"

I looked at Scott after I finished talking and saw him plucking blades of grass from the ground.

I sighed. This was going to be really difficult.

~

I thought Scott was just pulling a prank on me and make me change my mind about adopting, but this whole mind-of-a-four-year-old thing lasted for three whole days after Scott hit his head.

It. Is driving me. Up the wall.

The contrast crying, the temper tantrums, the "Daddyyyy"s, it was all too much!

I finally called Kirstie.

"Hey, Mitch! What's up?" She says cheerfully after picking up the phone.

"I am questioning my will to live." I replied.

"Oh, Mitch, do I need to hire a therapist or something?" Kirstie coos, suddenly very somber.

"No, it's not like that, Kirst." I explained. "Scott hit his head the other day and ever since then he's been acting like a 4-year-old."

"Oh, my gosh, do we need to take him to the hospital?" Kirstie asks.

"I think we should. Just in case." I sighed.

"See you there?"

"See you there."