Out Of Nothing At All

Do You Wanna Build A Snowman?

“Daddy… When is it gonna snow? I wanna build an Olaf.”

You hovered outside of Saiorses room, on your way back down stairs with the laundry basket, listening in on the conversation as Spencer tucked his daughter into bed.

She was four years old and had became obsessed with Frozen earlier on the year. It was December now which of course meant that the film had been dragged out again. There had been little snow last year, hardly enough to make a snow ball let alone a full blown snowman and she’d been so upset, her bottom lip sticking out like her fathers did when he was sad.

“Hopefully soon, Sirsh. You heard the weatherman earlier, right? Don’t worry, as soon as it snows I promise you that we’ll build a snowman.” Spencer told her and you pictured him sitting on the side of her bed, his faced pressed closed to hers, ready to kiss her goodnight. He loved putting her to bed, hating it when he was out on a case and couldn’t do it. He’d got back late last night, going into the office for a few hours today to complete paperwork before coming home and spending the afternoon curled up on the couch watching Disney films with you and Saiorse.

Life was good, you’d cut down your own hours again so that you only used the Nanny two days a week now, although you were able to work from home if you needed to. And you’d been trying for another baby since the wedding although nothing was happening yet.

You heard him start his evening bedtime story and you headed downstairs to pile the laundry into the machine and load up the dishwasher.

Spencer snuck up behind you fifteen minutes later as you were matching socks. His, you just paired whenever two were the same length regardless of colour or pattern. You couldn’t cope with that for yours though so you always matched yours and Saiorse’s, although countless times she’d change them so she could be like Daddy.

“Leave that. Come and sit down. I’ll get up early and do it.” He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling his head against your neck.

“I’ll leave it, but don’t you dare touch them. I can’t cope with wearing odd socks like you.”

“Sirsh likes it though.”

You elbowed him. “Stop calling her that. I hate it. Saiorse or Little S. Sirsh sounds like you’re telling her to shush.”

“She tells me to shush though…..” You could feel him pouting against your neck, his bottom lip dragging on your skin as he started to kiss you.

It was true, she did. When he rambled and went way off topic, as he often did, she just sigh and look at him sternly. “Time for Daddy to shush now.” she’d tell him.

He’d always look put out at first and then laugh when he mentally retraced his steps and realised how off topic he’d gone.

Okay so she may have got that from you.

“She only does it when you legitimately do need to shush.”

“I guess. Now come back to the sitting room. I’ve poured the wine, let’s have some Mr and Mrs time. I’ve missed you.”

You were definitely down for some ‘Mr and Mrs time’ so you let him lead you back to the couch where you spent the rest of the evening in marital bliss.

…

You awoke early the next morning, your mouth dry and your bladder bursting. You check the alarm clock on the table.

5:30am.

Still two hours before Saiorse would wake up and no doubt pad down the hall into your bedroom. Ever since she’d been put in her big girl bed, she had a nasty habit of doing that, although you’d tried to instill into her that when Daddy was home, she needed to knock. She could do with knocking when Daddy WASN’T home too, to be honest.