Errr. Can't do that. The blood thing might be doable, but not Kool-Aid. Kool-Aid is serious. And Nate will NEVER forgive Ray Person for introducing Layla to such a thing ever. Actually, he'll never forgive Brad for insisting that Ray is an adequate baby-sitter, Walt for thinking Ray is an adequate anything or Layla for betraying him and drinking enough Kool-Aid, that her urine may be permanently red.
"You said it would be fine," he says dashing after their streaking child down the hall.
Nate's been trying to get Layla in the bath for almost an hour. She's all hopped up on sugar though and won't stay still. Or stop giggling. Nate doesn't mind the giggling; he minds his child acting as though she's on Ripped Fuel.
Brad stands at the other end of the hall as Layla bolts for him, little wobbly legs moving a lot faster than normal. "She is fine," Brad insists, crouching down to catch their naked child.
Layla lets out a high pitched squeal and instead of running right into Brad's outstretched arms, makes a sharp turn and dashes into the kitchen.
Brad actually looks surprised. "She's getting better at her evasive skills," he says admirably.
"You let her get away?" Nate scolds. "Worst Recon Marine ever."
A stormy look crosses Brad's face as he stands up, hands on his hips. He reminds Nate eerily of his mom. "This from the civilian menace?"
Nate winks as he meets Brad by the kitchen entrance. "What's wrong Sergeant Colbert? Can't catch a sugar-addled two year-old?"
Brad looks Nate up and down obviously. "Oh, I can catch her -- you better hope I don't catch you when I'm done."
Nate grins brightly. "Maybe I want you to catch me."
There's a sharp shriek for their attention. Layla's on the other side of the kitchen, hiding under the kitchen table.
Her smile is enormous, showing all her little baby teeth and a mouth stained by who knows how much red Kool-Aid.
"Ray is not allowed to baby-sit unsupervised anymore," Nate warns.
Brad sighs. "You drive a hard bargain."
"Get our daughter washed and in bed and I might drive something else hard too."
Brad blinks once at Nate and then back at their child.
"Layla," he calls sweetly, leaning down and beckoning their recalcitrant daughter over. "Come here so Daddy can get lucky tonight, sweetheart."
And to Nate's ever lasting surprise, she comes when called.
Clearly everybody's whipped when it comes to Brad.
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"You said it would be fine," he says dashing after their streaking child down the hall.
Nate's been trying to get Layla in the bath for almost an hour. She's all hopped up on sugar though and won't stay still. Or stop giggling. Nate doesn't mind the giggling; he minds his child acting as though she's on Ripped Fuel.
Brad stands at the other end of the hall as Layla bolts for him, little wobbly legs moving a lot faster than normal. "She is fine," Brad insists, crouching down to catch their naked child.
Layla lets out a high pitched squeal and instead of running right into Brad's outstretched arms, makes a sharp turn and dashes into the kitchen.
Brad actually looks surprised. "She's getting better at her evasive skills," he says admirably.
"You let her get away?" Nate scolds. "Worst Recon Marine ever."
A stormy look crosses Brad's face as he stands up, hands on his hips. He reminds Nate eerily of his mom. "This from the civilian menace?"
Nate winks as he meets Brad by the kitchen entrance. "What's wrong Sergeant Colbert? Can't catch a sugar-addled two year-old?"
Brad looks Nate up and down obviously. "Oh, I can catch her -- you better hope I don't catch you when I'm done."
Nate grins brightly. "Maybe I want you to catch me."
There's a sharp shriek for their attention. Layla's on the other side of the kitchen, hiding under the kitchen table.
Her smile is enormous, showing all her little baby teeth and a mouth stained by who knows how much red Kool-Aid.
"Ray is not allowed to baby-sit unsupervised anymore," Nate warns.
Brad sighs. "You drive a hard bargain."
"Get our daughter washed and in bed and I might drive something else hard too."
Brad blinks once at Nate and then back at their child.
"Layla," he calls sweetly, leaning down and beckoning their recalcitrant daughter over. "Come here so Daddy can get lucky tonight, sweetheart."
And to Nate's ever lasting surprise, she comes when called.
Clearly everybody's whipped when it comes to Brad.