Sydney stands on a chair, fastening a crepe paper streamer to the ceiling. It is Emily's birthday, and though they are throwing their daughter a relatively small party-- the guest list includes Marguerite, a few neighbors, and Jake and Heather--Sydney has gone overboard with the decorations. Emily started ballet lessons with Cheryl and Trent's daughter Anne Marie a few weeks ago, so the entire first floor of their house has been done in a ballerina theme-- pink and white crepe paper streamers, a ballerina centerpiece for the dining room table, not to mention the elaborate ballerina cake Sydney ordered from her favorite bakery in New York.

The month of April came and went relatively uneventfully. Sydney celebrated her thirty-fourth birthday with the kids and Michael; Michael let Emily pick out the cake, so Sydney blew out candles from the top of a chocolate concoction decorated with Sesame Street characters. It was a fun evening; Michael ordered in from a fantastic Italian restaurant, and after dinner and cake, she opened her gifts-- Jack and Emily had worked together on a picture of their family that Sydney swore would hang on the fridge forever, and Michael gave her a beautiful silver bracelet that was engraved, simply, To my love, from yours.

And, a week later, she and Michael celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary with a night completely alone. Jake and Heather came and stayed with the kids-- though Amanda had baby-sat for the Vaughns a couple of times since Michael and Sydney had caught her with Jason, they decided that an overnight job might not be the best idea, plus Heather thought this might be a good chance to convince Jake how wonderful having a baby would be-- and Michael and Sydney rented a room at the Plaza. They ordered room service and spent the entire night talking and making love; it was one of the most perfect nights Sydney could remember having since their trip to Jamaica. Speaking of which--

"Happy anniversary, baby," Michael said that night, handing her a piece of paper.

"Michael, what's this?" she asked, bewildered. She unfolded the paper to reveal a picture of a house that looked to be even more beautiful and more luxurious than their New York home-- plus it had the added bonus of sitting on the beach.

"Just an idea," Michael said with an excited grin. "I've been talking to a real estate agent down in Jamaica, and we can get this place for a steal, Syd. We'll want to go down and look at it in person first, of course, but I think it looks perfect. What do you think?"

Sydney shook her head. "Michael, what are you planning on doing with this most of the year? Renting it out?"

"Maybe," Michael said with a shrug. "But I figure we can keep spending progressively more time there every year, and then when the kids are all out of school--"

"Which will be about a million years from now," Sydney groaned.

"--I can retire, and we can live there most of the year, maybe even full time. Or we can spend six months of the year traveling, six months there. What do you think, Syd?"

Sydney sighed. "I think--" She grinned almost in spite of herself. "I think it sounds perfect, Michael."

Today, on the day that their oldest daughter turns four years old, Michael rushes into the dining room. "Sydney, honey, get down from there. I'll do that for you."

"That's okay, I've almost got it." Sydney fastens the streamer in place; Michael helps her down from the chair when she is finished.

"I'm not sure why you're doing so much decorating in here, anyway," Michael says with a grin. "It's a beautiful day, and there are so many balloons in the backyard our neighbors probably think the circus has come to town."

"Our daughter only turns four once, Michael," Sydney scolds. "Don't you want--"

Simultaneously, the doorbell rings, and Emily calls, "Mommy!"

"That'll be the cake," Sydney says, rushing for the door. "See what Emily wants, won't you, Michael? And then you'd better hurry and go get your mother from the airport." She snatches up her checkbook and throws the door open. "How much do I--" The sentence dies on her lips. "Dad?"

"I'm not staying," he blurts out. "I just came to drop off a gift."

"You flew to New York to drop off a gift?" Sydney asks uncomprehendingly. "Postage is cheaper than a plane ticket, Dad."

"Syd?" Sydney closes her eyes and mutters a curse under her breath as Michael comes up behind her. "Will you help Emily, she wants to wear her new blue dress, and I don't-- what are you doing here?"

Sydney's father looks away. "I just came to drop off a gift."

"Great," Michael says shortly, taking the large gift-wrapped box from his father-in-law's arms. "Thank you. Now please leave, before our daughter sees you and wants you to stay."

"Michael--" Sydney shakes her head. "It's okay. I'll talk to him. Dad, let's go outside."

"Honey, are you sure?" Michael asks, brow knitted in concern. "Because--"

"It's okay. Just-- keep the kids occupied, okay?" Sydney shoots Michael a reassuring smile.

"Okay," Michael gives Jack one last, wary look before heading back into the house.

"We can--" Sydney gestures vaguely to the front stoop; the two of them sit down.

"So how is everyone?" her father asks.

Sydney looks at him in disbelief. He has just traveled a long distance after not speaking to her for more than a month, and now he wants to make small talk?

"They're-- they're great," she says haltingly. "Uh-- Jack finishes the first grade in a few weeks." She looks straight ahead instead of at her father. Maybe if she doesn't look at him, she can pretend she is telling this to someone else. Someone who didn't belittle her entire lifestyle not so long ago. "His baby-sitter let him and a friend pitch a tent in the rec room a few weeks ago, and he's been obsessed with camping ever since. Michael is taking him as soon as school gets out for a few days, that's one adventure I'm glad I'm not going to be a part of." She glances at her father; his face is neutral, impassive. "You don't want to hear this."

"No, of course I do," her father says quickly. "Please. Go ahead."

"All right." Sydney takes a deep breath. "Emily started ballet lessons. She's only had a couple of classes so far. Her teacher says she's not the best dancer in the class, but that she's a natural performer."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Sydney glances at her father and sees that a tiny smile is playing about his lips.

"And Grace is wonderful. So beautiful," Sydney smiles fondly. "Doing everything right on schedule. We're sure she's going to walk before she's a year."

"And little-- Sam, is it? Or Maggie?"

"He or she is fine," Sydney says with a smile, touching her stomach. "I've been busy redecorating the nursery, Michael wanted to wait till we knew the sex of the baby, but I wanted to just do it in yellow. Then the other day I found this adorable sky blue wallpaper with clouds, I think it'll be great whether the baby's a boy or a girl." She stares down at her hands. "So I guess that's all that's new with us."

There is a long moment of silence. "Thank you for the gift." She is about to stand and go inside when her father starts speaking.

"Your mother found out she was pregnant with you not long after she got her PhD."

Sydney looks at her father in shock. They haven't spoken about her mother in years.

"We didn't plan it, we weren't going to have children until she'd been working for a few years, got established with her career. Truthfully, I think we might have ended up putting it off forever, so it was a blessing that it happened accidentally."

Yeah, you've certainly treated me like a blessing, haven't you, Dad? Sydney thinks bitterly, but she bites her tongue.

"She talked about turning down the position," her father says, turning to look at her. "Staying home with you until you were old enough to go to school. I convinced her that that would be a mistake, that she could do both, have the career she'd worked so hard for and be a good mother."

"She was a good mother," Sydney says, her voice low.

"Yes, she was," her father agrees. "But I know she regretted not being there for you more. Being told about your first steps from a nanny."

"So why are you telling me this?" Sydney demands. "Is this your way of letting me know my decision to stay home with the babies is okay with you? I don't need it to be okay with you, Dad. And Mom was in a completely different position than I was, than I am. I wasn't on the verge of a great academic career, I was indifferent about my job. Her mother didn't--" she feels tears spring to her eyes. "Her mother didn't die when she was six years old and leave her with a father who didn't give a damn about her."

"I gave a damn about you, Sydney. I give a damn about you," her father says angrily. "Don't you see? Yes, I would like to see you pursue a career, but it's mostly--" He looks away. "It scares the hell out of me to see you give so much of yourself to him, to them." He shakes his head. "I loved your mother with everything I had, and when I lost her, I lost everything."

"You still had me," Sydney says sadly. "And you didn't even care."

"I cared," her father insists. "I just had to keep my distance. But it didn't-- it didn't work. Keeping my distance didn't make me love you any less. It just kept me from really knowing you."

Sydney looks down at her feet, unsure of what to say.

"So I guess what I'm here to say is that I'm glad you didn't end up like me," he says, his voice low. "It scares me to see you give so much to your family, but at the same time-- I'm glad you're able to. It's not worth it if you don't. I'm proud of you."

Sydney stares at him for a long moment. She thinks this is the first time she's ever heard him say the words. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He rises from the stoop. "I should be going, I'm sure you have a lot to do to get ready for the party."

"Dad, you--" Sydney bites her lower lip. The admission that he's proud of her hardly changes everything between them, but it must have been hard to say, and he's come so far… "You don't have to go. You can come in."

"I shouldn't." Her father shakes his head. "It's Emily's birthday, and--"

"And I think she would really like to see her grandfather," Sydney says firmly. "Come on. You don't have to stay for the party. Just come give her your present yourself."

Her father hesitates before saying, "All right. I'd like that."

It isn't much. Sydney meant it when she said he doesn't have to stay for the party-- in fact, she hopes he doesn't. But she doesn't think there's any harm in letting him come in to say happy birthday.

She and Michael have finally come to terms with the fact that their existence isn't so perfect. They are going to have problems-- with parents, with friends, even with each other. Someday maybe it will be Emily in Amanda's place on the couch, and maybe she'll be doing more than just kissing. Maybe Michael will lose a terribly important case and his career will take a hit.

Who knows. Maybe one day one of their children won't take the path Sydney and Michael imagined for him or her, and they won't know how to deal with it.

It's impossible to predict the future. But maybe now that they have finally realized that they can make it if their existence is less than perfect, they won't feel so threatened when less than perfect things try to come in.