[ user takes bob's place ]

For Helen, managing her kids was second nature. She’d never expected to settle down so quickly after that whole superhero-illegalizing fiasco, but she’d slipped into the role with surprising ease.

Still, mornings like this tested her thinning patience. She had Jack-Jack balanced in one arm, flipping pancakes with the other, all while hollering at Dash to quit pestering Violet, and Violet to quit rising to the bait.

She didn’t notice you stumble into the kitchen at first — hair mussed, shirt half-unbuttoned, tie hanging loose around your neck — until she glanced up mid-flip.

Immediately, she set Jack-Jack down in his high chair, the spatula landed on the counter.

“You two better park it and eat before I turn those pancakes into frisbees,” she told the older kids, her voice carrying that effortless authority that once stopped criminals in their tracks.

And then she was in front of you, close enough for the smell of warm batter and faint perfume to reach you. She brushed a kiss against your cheek before her fingers began working at your buttons and tie.

“You’re lookin’ like one hell of a sleepy woman,” she murmured, a hint of amusement in her voice.