"Bacon," James announces like it's the most brilliant plan ever, his blue eyes alight with excitement. "If we cook her bacon, like a lot like really, really a lot of bacon, she'll be happy."

Freddie grins down at his six-year-old son, ruffling his hair a little before going back to the list. He and the three kids are sitting at the kitchen table trying to come with things that they can do for Sam on Mother's Day, which is already tomorrow. This is mostly for the kids' sake as he has a pair of diamond stud earrings in his sock drawer for the occasion. The woman in question is currently hanging out in the tub upstairs, enjoying a glass of wine. He writes down BACON at the end of the short list, much to the delight of the little guy. "This is good guys! What else should we do for your mom?"

"You should buy her a new car!"

He tries not to wince at the suggestion and instead forces a dry laugh so as not to disappoint his daughter. "Erm, that would work, Dylan, except I just bought your mom a car a month ago for her birthday, remember?"

"I remember," she looks at him with a hint of skepticism in her nine-year-old eyes, "But why does her car look so old?"

"That's because it's always dirty."

"Then we should clean it!" she exclaims, looking quite proud of herself. "Her car always smells like ham."

Freddie has to admit that he's been wanting to clean that monstrosity ever since he got it for her. Honestly, he should have gotten the car in black instead of getting it in white that makes it look thrice as dirty than it already is. Which is a lot dirty. But every time he offers to get the car washed or wash it himself, he's met with steel blue eyes and implicit instructions to stay away from her "baby".

Yes, at thirty-three, Samantha Benson still operates like a four-year-old. Which is difficult because they have two-year-old twins Reese and Riley. Sometimes, he jokingly tells his wife that it's amazing how child services hasn't caught on to them. That always earns him an elbow to gut.

He writes it down, his daughter looking pleased as punch. Maybe Sam will let this one go without hurting him. He can always say that the kids wanted to do it for her. That works most of the time. "Except the ham smell stays in the car." He taps his pen against the pad of paper. "It makes her less of a crazy driver that way."

"We should make the house smell like ham!" James claps his hands.

"I should make my homework smell like ham," Dylan muses softly. Because the world is ironic that way, Sam has turned into what can only be described as a homework nazi. Apparently she doesn't want to raise kids who are entirely like her.

"You don't think I know how much of a handful I was back then?" she told him when he made the mistake of commenting on this new upside-down world. "I'm not stupid. That's why I married you, nub. I want kids who are nerdy and obedient."

But for all her huffing and puffing, Sam's turned out to be quite the pushover of a mom. In fact, Freddie has had to slide into the "bad cop" role because Sam could never bring herself to be "evil" and "how can I do that? They're my babies?" Although, all hell did break loose when, after Freddie allowed their eldest daughter to watch a documentary, Dylan declared herself a vegetarian. Sam grudgingly cooked tofu and complained over beet juice making everything purple but refused to speak to Freddie for two whole weeks, blaming him for this atrocity. Two weeks was all it took for Dylan to break and they caught her wolfing down an Inside-Out burger in the bathroom.

Sam cried happy tears that day, shouting on and on about the return of the prodigal daughter.

"Anything else?"

Dylan curls a blonde strand of hair around her finger as her forehead wrinkles deep in thought. "Well, James and I are gonna make her a card..."

"A really big card," James interrupts and gestures with his hands an estimate of the dimensions of this large card. "With glitter and everything."

"All right," Freddie says with a clap, "Sounds like a plan! So bacon breakfast—"

"—with lots of bacon," James adds with a nod.

"Right. We wash her car and then for lunch, we take her to that steakhouse that she loves—"

"Mama loves her ribs!" James interrupts yet again, earning him an eyeroll from Dylan.

"Right again, kiddo. Now, remember, you guys promised me that you're gonna help me out with the twins. No flaking out." The last part is directed mostly to Dylan who likes to cite child labor laws which made Sam pack away all her law books. "Mommy's not gonna be lifting a finger tomorrow, okay?" The two nod obediently. "All right, off to bed with you. Mommy and I will be in to tuck you in shortly."

He follows them up the stairs and turns toward the master bedroom, pushing the door open. Sam is already in bed, hair damp and covered in her terry cloth robe. She grins up at him, one that's rather mischievous and that's when he notices the sparkle on her ears.

"You went through my sock drawer again?"

She raises an elegant eyebrow at him, something she totally copied from him. "I always seem to find the most ridiculous items there."

"Oh really?" he asks nonchalantly. He takes the few steps to her and leans down to give her a soft kiss on her smiling lips. "Do tell."

"Well, once upon a time, I found an engagement ring there and just last month I found the keys to a brand new car. Now, I have a pair of diamond earrings. Pretty ridiculous, right?"

"Totally," he replies before giving her another kiss.

"I love you, Fredweird."

"I love you, too... Benson."

...

Author's Note:

I had the idea for this one when I saw an ad for Mother's Day and thought it would be cute to do. This is a little rough and unbeta-ed so please forgive any errors. I hope you enjoy!

Whenever I imagine Sam and Freddie married and with a family, it's always a big family. I don't know why! My version of Mommy Sam would like her girls to have boy names, just like she does. Yup, one of the twins is a girl.

I should update Nate and Olivia soon, I know. But I'm currently working on a one-shot that's been kicking my ass. I'll upload that early next week and Nate and Olivia after that.