THE BAD GUYS IN: raising princess

Father's day

Since the bad guys adopted they decided to celebrate their first Father's Day at crackle barrel and continued the tradition every year.

Princess's First Father's Day – Age 2

The Cracker Barrel off the I-15 had no business being this packed at 9 AM on a Sunday morning, but Father's Day hit differently when you were a team of former criminals turned legal guardians with a toddler who thought spoons were drumsticks.

Inside the cozy, rustic restaurant, the Bad Guys occupied a corner booth near the fireplace, underneath a dusty wagon wheel chandelier and walls littered with vintage signs, cast iron skillets, and faded paintings of horses. In a wooden high chair at the head of the table sat Princess Chesterfield, age two and absolutely covered in syrup.

"She's melting into the pancakes," Snake muttered, flicking syrup off his sleeve with disgust.

"Let her melt," Shark chuckled, trying to form a pancake animal with his giant fingers. "She's a syrup dragon now. Rawr."

Princess giggled with a full mouth and slapped her palms on the table, sending a rogue sausage rolling into Piranha's lap. He caught it mid-air with his mouth and grinned like a golden retriever.

"You see that? Reflexes, bro! Like a ninja!"

"More like a feral raccoon," snake muttered, but there was a smile tugging at his mouth

Then wolf gently wiped syrup off Princess's cheeks with a napkin.

Webs, seated on the far end beside Princess, sipped her coffee and chuckled. "She's basically a breakfast war zone."

"I'm just glad she's eating," webs said. "Last night she spit peas in my face like a cannon."

"She's got taste," Snake added.

Across from them, a cheerful waitress with a name tag that read "Marlene" approached the table holding a tray of food.

"Well, well, you boys must be the daddies I've been hearin' about all morning," she said with a warm Southern accent, setting down a plate of scrambled eggs and cheesy grits. "We don't see many families like yours out here. That your little one?"

All five heads turned to look at Princess, who blinked, looked up at Marlene, and then yelled: "PANKAKE!"

Marlene laughed, clutching her chest. "She's adorable. Looks just like all of y'all somehow."

"Ha! Yeah, that's our little miracle," Webs said, squeezing Princess's hand.

"She's our little walking, talking felony record," Wolf said under his breath.

The waitress gave Wolf a soft look. "Y'all are doing good. Just so you know. Happy Father's Day."

"Thanks," Shark said, beaming. "It's our first."

After breakfast, they walked through the attached Cracker Barrel country store, where Princess darted from rocking chairs to shelves of old toys like a tiny hurricane of chaos. She wore a tiny polka-dot sun hat running. Piranha chased after her.

"She's going rogue!" he shouted dramatically.

"Princess, slow down!" Webs called after her, laughing.

But Princess had already found her treasure—a small gray stuffed cat with button eyes and a red bow around its neck. She hugged it tight and looked up at Wolf, who stood nearby pretending not to smile.

"Mine," she declared.

Snake snorted. "Another toy? Her room's already a war zone."

Wolf kneeled beside her, brushing a curl from her face. "You want that one, kiddo?"