Case Reopened

Thanksgiving At The Douglas'

I'm posting this around Thanksgiving so Happy Thanksgiving! For everyone reading this nowhere near Thanksgiving, Happy Random Week Day!

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Mason stood before the closet mirror, slowly tying his tie. Having found a better relationship with his father didn't mean he didn't have reservations when plans were made with him.

It was as if years of growing up with his father conflicted with the adult years of gradually developing a different dynamic. The kid in him didn't trust anything, the adult he was knew it was different.

Still, Mason took slow actions as if somehow that would make the evening not arrive at all. It was the childish thought he wished he was past. But since it was taking him ten minutes to do a Windsor knot, a knot he could do dead, then it seemed he hadn't grown past it.

Yvette walked into the room, her hair wrapped in a towel and wearing a bathrobe. She met Mason's gaze in the mirror and he wondered if she'd admonish him for going slow. She knew him and had the uncanny ability to know what his actions meant even without him explaining them.

"Can you get Sophia ready? Her outfit is on her bed," Yvette asked. "As you can see I'm running a little behind."

"Of course."

Mason finished the tie in less than thirty seconds and left the room. When he stepped into Sophia's room, he found his four-year-old daughter sitting on her floor, a city of buildings, made from blocks, rising up around her.

For a moment, Mason hovered in the doorway, watching Sophia work. She made small, meticulous moves, creating structures that most other children would topple with a single action.

Based on who he was and who Yvette was, Mason had been aware that their child would be intelligent. The level of intelligence had appeared more and more over the last two years. For a child of four, Sophia's vocabulary was extensive and her ability to stay focused for hours vastly contrasted with other children Mason had observed.

"Hey there, Supreme Ruler," Mason said, walking over to Sophia and crouching down.

Sophia kept working, her concentration fully focused on balancing a block at the peak of one structure. Once finished, she tilted her face up to Mason. Bright brown eyes, staring out of a round tan face, haloed by dark blonde hair, held his.

"What does supreme ruler mean?" she asked.

"It means that you alone control the power to run a world."

Sophia pinched her lips together in thought. "Would you and Mama be ruling with me?"

"No. You alone hold the power."

Again Sophia took time to consider Mason's reply.

"I don't think I want that," she said. "I would like to rule with you and Mama."

"That's fair. We can rule until you come of age."

"What does 'come of age' mean?"

"It means when you are no longer four years old but eighteen years old."

"Oh." Sophia stared down at the floor in thought and Mason wished he could see into his daughter's mind to see the depth of her thoughts.

Sophia lifted her head. "I think I will be ready to rule then."

Mason laughed and kissed her cheek. "I know you will be. Now let's get you ready for dinner."

He stood and held out his hand to his daughter to help her. He did this instead of simply helping her up. He'd found she squirmed or cringed with being touched without being asked or offered the option of accepting help. Sophia wrapped both her small hands around Mason's hand and he lifted her to her feet.