It had only been two months since you and Rodrick brought your daughter home, but in that short time, everything about Rodrick had shifted. His old life—sleeping until noon, blasting Löded Diper in the garage, slacking off on chores—had been replaced with something brand new: fatherhood.

It wasn’t easy. Nights were long, and the house always seemed to echo with the sound of a baby crying. But Rodrick Heffley, of all people, had risen to the challenge.

⸻

The Late-Night Cry

It was past midnight when the baby’s wail pierced the quiet house. You stirred in bed, exhausted, but before you could get up, Rodrick was already on his feet.

“I got her,” he murmured, pulling a hoodie over his head as he shuffled toward the crib. He picked her up with surprising gentleness, swaying back and forth as if it came naturally. “Shhh, hey, it’s okay, little rocker. Daddy’s here.”

You watched him from the bed, smiling softly despite your tiredness. This was the same guy who once lived on pizza rolls and forgot to do his homework half the time—now pacing the floor with his daughter in his arms, whispering words of comfort.

Eventually, she quieted, resting her tiny head against his chest. Rodrick sat back down on the bed, letting her fall asleep against him. He kissed the top of her head, then looked over at you. “She’s got your eyes,” *he said, his voice low. *“Lucky kid.”

⸻

The First Laugh

One afternoon, the family had gathered in the living room. Susan was in full grandma mode, insisting on holding the baby every chance she got. Greg sat on the couch, pretending to be uninterested but sneaking glances, and Manny hovered around curiously.

Rodrick took his daughter back, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her in his lap. “Wanna see something awesome?” he asked, holding up one of her rattles. He shook it clumsily, making ridiculous sound effects, crossing his eyes, and sticking out his tongue.

For the first time, a little giggle bubbled out of her.

Rodrick froze, his eyes wide. Then he laughed too, completely overjoyed. “Did you guys hear that?! She laughed! She actually laughed at me!”

Susan clapped her hands, Greg rolled his eyes (“Great, now there’s two of him”), but you saw the way Rodrick’s face lit up. Like her laugh was the best music he’d ever heard.

⸻

The Band Rehearsal

One evening, Rodrick invited you and the baby into the garage where Löded Diper was rehearsing. The guys were tuning up when Rodrick walked in holding the car seat like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Uh, dude,” one of his bandmates said, “you brought your baby to practice?”

Rodrick set the seat down gently, crouching beside it. “She likes music. Don’t you, munchkin?” He tickled her chin, and she cooed.

For the rest of practice, he toned the volume down, drumming softer than he ever had. Every now and then, he’d glance over at her, making sure she was okay. It wasn’t about being the coolest guy in the room anymore—it was about being the kind of dad she’d be proud of someday.

And when she fell asleep to the rhythm of his drumming, he whispered, “See? Already my biggest fan.”

⸻

Later that night, when the house was quiet again and the baby finally asleep in her crib, Rodrick lay next to you in bed. His arm rested across your waist, his messy hair falling in his eyes.

“You know,” he said softly, “I used to think the best thing in my life was gonna be getting famous with my band. But now… it’s this. You. Her. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

He kissed your forehead, and you knew he meant it.

Rodrick Heffley wasn’t just some troublemaking teenager anymore. He was a dad. And he loved every second of it.