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Moon stretched as he slowly woke up. When he placed his arm back down, he found a warm patch of empty mattress where Ginger was supposed to be. He opened his eyes. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, partially illuminating their bedroom. She was standing at the door, about to leave the room.
"Morning," he yawned.
"Oh!" She turned around. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"
"Don't worry about it, I was planning on waking up today, anyway." He smiled and propped himself up on his elbow.
"Well, gee, let's hope so," Ginger snorted. "I just thought you wanted to sleep in."
Moon checked his phone. It was currently 9:13 am.
"Eh, good enough," he mumbled. "Are the girls awake?"
"If they are, they're being very quiet. Wanna help me check on them?"
"Do you even have to ask?"
He rolled out of bed and tiptoed over to her. Gracie and Gwen seemed to have inherited his own deep-sleeping abilities, but he would hate to wake them earlier than necessary on a Saturday.
His posture naturally emulated that of his old default walk cycle for a moment, back arched and arms forward, but it looked much less threatening, now. He wondered if Ginger even recognized the ghost of his programmed gait. She was currently smiling at him, but she had never hated that part of him, so it was hard to tell.
"What are you smiling at?" he asked.
"The man I love," she replied, then gave him a good morning kiss. That woke him up a little.
When they made it to the door of the girls' room, they heard loud attempts at whispering. They shared a knowing look, then Moon knocked on the door. The whispering stopped.
"Hellooo? Are there any sweet and lovely girls awake in there?"
They started giggling.
"Hmm, I guess not."
"I don't know," said Ginger, "I think we should check, just in case."
"Oh, all right."
Moon opened the door, and the girls squealed. They were sitting together on their bed, along with a few toys that hadn't been there last night.
"You're right, there aren't any girls in here, only squeaky little mice," said Ginger.
"Good morning, little mice," said Moon.
Gwen played along, holding her hands like paws and turning her initial squeal into more purposely mouse-like squeaks, but Gracie preferred to end the charade.
"We're not mice!" she giggled.
"Yes we are!" Gwen insisted, then continued squeaking.
"You can't be a mouse! Mice don't talk!"
"Are you sure?" asked Moon.
"Yeah! Only people talk! 'Cept for birds, sometimes, like the parrot we saw at the zoo who said 'hello,' but he can't say lots more words."
"Well, if parrots can talk, why not mice?" asked Ginger.
"Mice aren't birds, Mommy!"
"That is true…" Ginger stroked her chin, as if pondering a monumental statement.
"But how do we know you're not special talking mice?" asked Moon.
"We don't look like mice, either!"
"Really? Let me see…" Moon strode across to the bed and stopped in front of Gracie. "Excuse me, little maybe-a-mouse, do you mind if I investigate your claims of mousiness?"
After she gave a nod, he ran his fingers through her dark, curly hair, a trait from Ginger's grandmother.
"Your ears definitely don't look like a mouse's, and all your fur is on the top of your head…"
He picked her up and brought her face closer to his. It bore a crescent moon pattern similar to his own, punctuated with bright blue eyes (which were somehow passed down to every Aster child, despite the genetic improbability) and complimented by her mother's nose.
"…your face isn't long or pointy, no whiskers…"
He flipped her upside down, prompting more giggles from both twins.
"…and you don't have any tail at all!"
He flipped her right side up again and placed her back on the bed.
"I guess you aren't a mouse, after all. In fact, you both look like little human girls!"
"We're not little, Daddy," Gracie protested, "we're four!"
"Four? Already?! You're right, that's a big girl age!"
"Now that we have proof you didn't turn into mice this morning, what have you two been doing in here?" Ginger asked.
"Playing dolls," said Gwen, holding up a messy-haired Barbie in one hand and a plush fairy doll in the other.
"Oh yeah? And what were the dolls doing?"
"Havin' a tea party!" Gracie exclaimed. She pointed to a plastic teapot and a couple of matching tea cups laid on the bed, thankfully with no liquid in them.
"What kind of tea do you have?" asked Moon.
"Ummm… peach," answered Gwen.
"Sounds yummy. May I please have some?"
"Ok."
Gwen refilled the cup with imaginary tea. He thanked her and took his first sip (pinkie out, of course).
"Mmm, yeah, that's the good stuff! Thank you."
"You're welcome, Daddy."
"I'm glad you two had some fun this morning," said Ginger. "Now, are you ready to get dressed and ready for the day?"
"No! I like my jammies," Gracie pouted and crossed her arms.
"But we're going to the park today, so you need to wear real clothes," Ginger reminded her. "Your jammies are so cute and comfy, you wouldn't want to get them all dirty, would you?"
Gracie whined in response, wanting to preserve the cleanliness of her pajamas, but not ready to admit defeat.
"Mommy's right, Gracie," said Moon.
He didn't have much else to say during this conversation. Despite Ginger's argument, he knew the real reason she wanted the twins to change was because wearing any kind of pajamas in public was socially unacceptable. Moon thought this was one of the most ridiculous fashion rules, but maybe he was biased.
He decided to cheer them up with some pancakes, one of the first hot meals he had learned how to cook (and one of the few he could cook well). Gracie was more agreeable after breakfast, and Moon and Ginger managed to wrangle the tots from their fleece onesies to t-shirts and shorts, and put their hair up in pigtails. Today, Gracie was dressed in mint green, and Gwen in sky blue. After that, it was only a loud but short drive to the park.
"Alright, we're here. Is everyone ready?" asked Ginger.
Gracie and Gwen cheered. Once they were released from their carseats, the girls ran toward the playground, their parents a few steps behind.
They weren't the only ones at the playground today. The various play structures were teeming with kids, most of them close to the twins' age, but there were a few older kids as well. This meant lots of playmates for the girls, but it also meant lots of parents who could potentially trap him in boring conversations.
"TILLY!" Gracie yelled. She bolted toward Tilly, who was halfway up a climbing wall, with Gwen in tow.
Moon's shoulders slumped. He had no problems with Tilly, but her parents…
"Good mornin', y'all!" called a voice he had hoped not to hear today.
"Morning, Margaret!" Ginger replied. "How are you doing?"
Moon turned to Margaret—Tilly's mom—and smiled. He prepared himself to hear about drama with the rest of her HOA board or similar nonsense, all delivered in a vaguely fake-sounding southern drawl. She and Ginger continued to exchange pleasantries as Rob—Tilly's dad—walked over from a nearby picnic table.
Rob's hand slammed down on Moon's shoulder, one of his favorite gestures. Moon weighed the pros and cons of growling at him, but decided against it, as usual.
"Yooo, Big G, what is up?" boomed the annoying man who the hand belonged to.
"Hello, Rob," Moon replied.
Moon did not like being called Big G. The nickname was boring and unoriginal, but it was rude to say so out loud, and he really couldn't think of another nickname he would rather have, so he stayed silent.
"Hi, Rob!" Ginger greeted.
"Hey, Ginger!" Rob treated her to a simple fist bump, keeping his other hand on Moon's shoulder. It was unclear why she didn't get an absurd nickname. "Haven't seen you guys around here lately. What's up with that?"
"We've just been busy, is all. We went to Kinsleigh's birthday party last week, and the girls have been spending some more time with their cousins lately, and… well, it seems like we've been everywhere but here," Ginger explained.
"Ah, yeah, I know how it is." Rob released Moon's shoulder, only to give it a gentler backhanded smack a second later. "Hey, at least we can catch up now, right? Have a little chat, y'know, man-to-man?"
"Maybe later. I'm kind of busy right now." Moon gestured to the girls, who were already too far away for his comfort.
"You don't want to come sit with us? We snagged a picnic table right over there." Rob jerked his head toward a group of picnic tables located even farther from the girls than they were currently standing.
Had this guy ever heard of a kidnapper?
"We just like being close by in case something happens," said Ginger. "And, y'know, they won't be this tiny forever, so you might as well enjoy it." She turned to Moon. "Since you'll be with the girls, I'm gonna stay here and chat for a sec. Have fun, babe."
She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he was finally released. How fortunate he was to have a wife who was willing to sacrifice her time and sanity to allow him to perform his fatherly duties (and have some fun, of course). She claimed to enjoy talking to people like this, but he was convinced that it was some sort of coping mechanism, like how he and his brother had convinced themselves they enjoyed cleaning.
He jogged over to the girls, who were all trying to use one seesaw. Tilly and Gwen were sitting on the ends, and Gracie was sitting in the middle, trying desperately to hold on.
"Hey there, Gracie, what are you doing?"
"Look, Daddy!" Gracie called. "I can balance like you!"
"That's very impressive, but can we please get down from there?" He picked her up and placed her on the ground. "It's not safe to sit in the middle."
"But it won't work if me and Gwen are both on that side!"
"Do you want to go on the other seesaw with me?"
"Ok!"
Gracie rushed to sit on the lower end of the second seesaw, and Moon sat on the higher end, bringing it down slowly enough to not send his beloved daughter into orbit. He did all the work from there, but he let Gracie at least pretend to help push. His legs were a bit cramped, but his discomfort was lessened by her sweet smile.
After they were done with the seesaws, they went down the slides a few times, even the dark tube slide which had terrified the girls only a couple of years ago.
Ginger joined them while they were in the middle of playing princesses. The girls were all warrior princesses who had gone on a quest to defeat an evil dragon (Moon, of course), but Princess Gwen ultimately befriended the dragon and invited everyone to her castle for cake and a grand ball.
Tilly had to go home soon after, so they decided to go to the swings. Today, Ginger would push Gracie, and Moon would push Gwen. They still fit in the baby swings, but they were tighter than they used to be.
"Ready?" he asked.
Gwen nodded.
He started off slowly, barely moving the swing. After she had gotten settled, there was the inevitable "Can you go higher, Daddy?"
Moon pushed a little harder.
"Higher!"
He pushed as hard as he felt comfortable with, and she squealed in delight. Although she was barely a few feet off of the ground, it was as close to flying as she could get.
Moon remembered how it felt to fly. At first, the tether had only been for gliding over crowds of children, and for getting back up to the loft, but he learned to enjoy being suspended in the air. He had even taught himself some new tricks during his free time. Moon hadn't been able to learn any swinging tricks yet, but he had seen a video of someone doing a backflip on one, so he might learn how to do that, someday.
Did Gwen get her love of swinging from him, or was that something all children were born with? Either way, it was one of her favorite pastimes right now.
He glanced at the big kid swings. Some children were being pushed by their parents, while others were swinging on their own. Gwen and Gracie would start using those soon. He would have to teach them how to pump their legs, or maybe Ginger would do it, since she had more swinging experience. They would master it quickly, Gwen faster than Gracie most likely, but they were both quick learners. Then they could swing by themselves. They wouldn't need him to push them anymore.
Ginger was right, the girls were growing up fast. Four years ago, they had barely been able to open their eyes. Now, they were walking, talking, playing, doing more every day. They would start kindergarten soon, then grade school after that, and they would be separated from him for hours a day, every weekday, for eight months a year. After that, they would start college or careers, either of which could take them far away from home. They wouldn't get married right out of high school, would they?
"You ok?" Ginger asked, snapping him back to reality.
"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about something."
"You wanna talk about it?"
Moon hesitated. His first instinct was to simply say no, but he was starting to learn that his fears never seemed as dreadful after telling them to the right person. He didn't want to drag the girls into this conversation, though.
"Later."
Ginger nodded, then redirected her full attention on Gracie's swing.
Moon already knew how quickly children grew. It was something he couldn't change, so he shouldn't worry about it. Right now, he was going to cherish this moment. It was a beautiful day, he was with his family, and everyone was having fun.
He would be alright.