bitty and jack at the zimmermanns for christmas one year, and bob is playing on tv some old footage he filmed when jack was a kid.
jack is five and he’s skating in the rink bob build in their backyard, and there’s some sort of pastel-blue cape tied to his neck as he skates from one end to the other, handling the puck at the same time, and nearly comes crashing against bob. “papa, tasses-toi!” [papa, get out of the way!]
“what’s that?” bitty asks, “playing superheroes?”
“no,” bob says, with a smile, “that was jack’s special blanket. he wouldn’t go without it for a few years.”
then, there’s footage of jack shooting the puck, over and over again, from all angles possible, the blanket swirling in his back. “papa!” he shouts, looking back at bob every time he scores a nice goal. “nice one!” bob shouts back.
“you were so cute!” bitty says, just as the film changes again, showing jack sliding from one board to the other, pumping his fist, getting down on one knee, throwing himself on his back, different iterations of the same idea.
jack rubs a hand over his face.
“practicing cellies?” bob says, “yeah, he was.”
“okay,” jack intervenes. “can we watch something else?”
as if on cue, the image changes once more. they’re inside, this time, jack in the bath, hair messed up and red cheeks, alicia kneeling on the bathroom tile. jack’s holding onto his blanket, half wet now and thrown over the edge of the bath, his other hand is holding onto a puck, as he gesticulates to alicia.
“oh my god,” jack breathes out. “can we not?”
bitty pats his chest. “don’t worry, sweetpea, I’ve seen you naked before.”
jack groans again, just as alicia walks in the living room, and leans in on the couch, behind them. “oh, I remember this! puck adventures!”
“I– puck what, now?” bitty asks.
“it was a story jack made up,” alicia says, chuckling. “the ice had melted, so the puck had to survive in its new hostile environment, the bath.”
“okay, that’s it,” jack says, and stands up.
jimmyeatworldofficial
2087
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
