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Copycat Charlie

Summary; Four year old Charlie copies everything Don does

He heard Charlie and his mother talking quietly in the hallway before he was fully awake. He pulled the covers over his head and burrowed into the warmth, trying to steal just one more minute before she sent him in. He yawned, and mentally counted it down. 3 . . . 2 . . . 1. The door flew open and three and a half feet of frantic energy with a halo of unruly curls bounded into the bedroom. "Wake up! Wake up! Mommy says you haft to get up."

"Oompf." he groaned as the four year old landed on top of him. He reached out quickly and reversed their positions, pinning the smaller body under his. He laughed out loud at the sight of two wide eyes that flashed with anticipation, the slight body tense, his mouth open, waiting for what he knew was coming. When the tickling started, the small body jerked in spasms against the larger hands, trying to escape. "No. Stop. Don't." he pleaded, screaming and laughing and hiccuping.

Over the laughter, they heard her voice in the hallway again.

"Don, can you help Charlie get ready this morning?"

His reply was muffled by squeals of laughter.

"There's no time for games this morning, guys. We don't want to get to the school too late." she said, raising her voice slightly, to be sure they heard her.

Don stopped tickling and let Charlie catch his breath. They laid on the bed together, the smaller one taking in gulps of air, which just made the hiccups worse, and they laughed together at the sounds.

She spoke from the doorway again. "I'll put your clothes out for you." When neither one moved she prodded "Come on, guys." Her voice grew softer as she moved away from them and she threw back over her shoulder, " And Don, please make sure he has something to eat besides juice."

The two of them crawled out of bed and Don stretched and yawned loudly, then ran his hand through his hair. He didn't have to look to know Charlie did the same thing. And when he walked to the bathroom, he didn't even turn to see if Charlie was following him. He knew he would be.

In the bathroom, Don made sure the little stool in front of the sink was in the right position for Charlie, then held onto his arm as he climbed up. They stood, side by side, looking in the mirror. Don opened the toothpaste and squeezed some onto his toothbrush, then covered the soft bristles of the Star Wars one Charlie was holding out for him. They brushed their teeth in synchronization, spitting and rinsing in tandem, then returned the toothbrushes to the container. He handed Charlie a small comb and reached for his own. They combed their hair, Charlie trying to copy Don's movements but the small comb wouldn't go through his curls as easily as Don's did through his short hair. Don helped him smooth out some of the tangles. They finished getting cleaned up, their movements choreographed as if they were in a play; first Don, then Charlie.

When they came out of the bathroom they found that she had laid their clothes on the bed. They began to get dressed, the little one copying every action, every movement, until they sat beside each other on the bed, tying their shoes. When Don was finished, he waited patiently, as the small fingers moved slowly, twisting the laces into submission. Charlie frowned comically and his tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated. When he was done, he looked up, smiling brightly, and Don couldn't stop himself from reaching out and ruffling the recently combed curls.

"Come on, buddy. Let's get some breakfast."

In the kitchen, Don greeted his father, as he poured two glasses of orange juice and handed one to Charlie. "Morning, Dad."

Alan was already dressed and reading the newspaper as he finished his cup of coffee. "Morning, Donnie." he answered. He watched silently and amused, peering over his reading glasses, as Charlie's dark eyes followed Don's movements. Don raised the glass to his lips and sipped the juice, then lowered the glass to the table in front of him. Charlie mirrored him completely. Alan laughed out loud. "And good morning to you, Copycat Charlie."

They had just finished a bowl of cereal, eaten as a synchronized Olympic sport, when a sound in the doorway drew their attention to the woman standing there and Charlie announced in the volume only a four year old thought was appropriate, "Mommy, I dressed myself!"

"And you did such a good job, Charlie." She looked appraisingly at the other members of the family sitting at the table. "All the Eppes men are looking mighty good today. I'll be the envy of every woman there." Her playful dark eyes held her husbands for a few seconds, obvious desire shining in them. Alan cleared his throat and pushed the chair away from the table. "Are we ready to go?"

They moved into the foyer and towards the front door. Don stopped at the table beside the entrance and reached for his sunglasses that he kept in a bowl on the table. He picked up an identical smaller pair and handed them to Charlie. The little fingers settled them on his face and Don thought about those dark, intelligent eyes behind the shaded lens. With a jolt, he recalled something Alan had said the day Charlie was born. His father had pulled him aside in that manner that father's have, when they are about to say something profound.

"Someday soon, Donnie, those little eyes will watch everything you do. He will copy what you do. He will learn everything from you and he'll want to be just like you. It's a wonderful opportunity, son. You need to handle it with care. Remember, no words can teach as powerfully as your actions."

Don's thoughts were interrupted by a pair of hands urging him through the door. "Come on, Don, I don't want to be late."

They arrived at the school in plenty of time to find seats in the front row. The first part of the program passed quickly enough, but, eventually, Charlie couldn't sit still any longer, and ended up sitting in his father's lap. The main event finally arrived when a tall gray haired man walked across the stage and stood in front of the podium. He shuffled a few sheets of paper, then spoke into the microphone, so everyone in the large auditorium could hear him.

"The award being presented today is not one that we give annually or at any specific time throughout any year. It is not given lightly or casually. To do so would diminish it's purpose; which is to inspire and encourage participation in all matters of human development. It is only presented when a person is found that possesses the characteristics and outstanding qualities that personifies this prestigious award.

"Today's recipient is a trusted and honored member of many of our local and state organizations, either in the capacity of board member or willing and capable worker. He has given, not only financial support to many of these groups, but has also been very generous with his time, something few people are willing to donate.

"He has mentored young boys through the Big Brothers association; funded numerous scholarships, both here and at other universities; and was instrumental in developing an inner city educational program for underprivileged, exceptional or disabled children.

"CalSci University is proud to present the Distinguished Humanitarian Award to Doctor Charles Edward Eppes."

As Charlie Eppes stepped forward to the center of the stage, the thunderous applause could not completely drown out a small excited voice in the first row.

"That's my Unka Charlie!"

As he joined the audience in applause for his youngest son's latest honor, Alan couldn't help but glance beside him at his oldest son. Don sat next to his wife, Meredith, who was five months pregnant with their second child. Don was holding their firstborn, Charles Alan Eppes, in his lap and Alan watched the boy try to match the rhythm of his fathers hands as they clapped. His eyes misted as he thought of another young Charlie who copied everything Don did. The first Copycat Charlie. He had grown up watching and mimicking the little things his big brother did and Alan knew they were here today, in part, because the little things he copied had turned to big things. Don Eppes had set a good example for his little brother, had given him someone strong and honest to look up to, someone he could always count on, to believe in him, to help him and guide him. Someone who wasn't afraid to fight for what he believed in and sometimes for what he didn't believe in, but he fought for it because it was right. Someone every little boy needed; a hero.

Actions speaks louder than words, deeds louder than promises.

Alan Eppes knew his grandson's future was bright with possibilities, because the little actions of his father that he copied today were just the tip of the iceberg. And if he turned out half as good as the original "Copycat Charlie" he would be just fine.

The end