Highschool Lovers

swim time

"Honey, have you seen where I put the cookie jar?" I call, standing in the kitchen with my hands on my hips, contemplating the chaos that has unfolded over the last ten minutes.

"Uh, if I had to guess, I'd say it's not in one piece anymore," Adrien responds from the living room, where the unholy sounds of giggles and soft thumping can be heard.

"Mia! Chandler! Charlie!" I shout, rushing towards the living room. "What did you guys do?!"

As I enter, I see them—Mia with cookie crumbs on her cheeks, and the twins with their hands buried deep in the cookie jar, eyes wide with mischief. But before I can even process that, a flash of nakedness darts past me.

"LUKE!" I yell, only to hear the familiar little giggle accompanying his mad dash. "Get back here right now!"

He wiggles his tiny behind at me, giggling, as he makes a run for the backyard door. "Naked! Naked!" he screams, laughing hysterically.

"Did he just..." Adrien stares at me in disbelief.

"Yes, he did," I reply, dashing after him. "No one let him out! Nathan! Security!"

I can hear Nathan's heavy footsteps behind me as he chases after my little streaker. "I'm on it, Mrs. Agreste! We can't lose him!"

But of course, losing one-year-olds is not something one can prepare for—as the little rascal changes direction and makes his way outside, his giggles echoing in the distance.

"Mia! Chandler! Charlie! Stay put!" I shout. "Do not leave the house!"

"But the cookies!" Mia protests, holding one up like it's a trophy.

I look back at her, torn between the lingering urge to grab that cookie and the urgency of the situation at hand. "You can have the cookies later, just... don't leave the living room, okay?"

"Okay!" they chime, but I know too well how long that "okay" will last.

Meanwhile, Luke has already reached the backyard, and I can see him making a beeline for the neighbor's pool that's at least a fifteen-minute walk away.

Nathan is practically sweating bullets. "I can't believe we're losing a one-year-old!" he mutters to himself as he sprints past me, five highly trained guards trying and failing to catch my cheeky toddler.

"Try to corner him!" I call out, barely keeping my laughter contained.

"Mrs. Agreste, please!" Nathan begs. "I might need to apply for a new job if we don't catch him soon!"

"Relax, we're not firing you for this!" I assure him, and just then I spot Luke standing at the edge of the pool, peering in.

"Luke, stay away from there!" I shout, knowing full well he can't comprehend all of what I'm saying; he just giggles again.

With exaggerated concentration, Nathan and the others seem to start circling Luke, who is bouncing on his feet, hands in the air. "No catch! No catch!" he squeals, wiggling his little butt at them like it's a game.

"He's too quick!" one of the guards huffs, panting and shaking his head.

"Move to the left! Left!" Nathan instructs, his eyes glued to Luke. But the little storm of giggles dashes in the opposite direction desperately and acts like he's just been released from a cage.

"Catch me!" Luke squeals, clearly enjoying the chase, trotting back towards the house, contributing to their frustration.

"Mommy!" he calls out, and my heart melts at his little voice.

"What?" I ask, trying to catch my breath.

"More cookies!" Luke demands, stretching his hands out, as if cookies might suddenly appear out of thin air.

"Right, because that's exactly what we need right now," I chuckle. I race toward him, finally managing to scoop him up mid-chase. "You little rascal! You can't just run outside naked!"

"Wiggle butt!" he responds, beaming with pride.

"Indeed, you are the king of wiggles," I whisper, planting a kiss on his head, glancing back at Nathan.

"Can I officially quit now?" Nathan jokes, though I can see the relief on his face.

With a sigh, I look at my chaotic family and can't help but laugh. "Alright, everyone! Cookies in ten minutes, but first... let's get this little wiggle monster dressed!"

The kids cheer, and even Nathan joins in with a little laugh. It might not be a perfect day, but it's certainly our kind of chaos—and I wouldn't change a thing.