Always His Baby

Chapter 8
Day Out

Chapter Description: Dan promises to take Sheridan to the police station. But it won't be that simple.

Less than an hour after having woken up to her new, doubly miniatured form, Sheridan was sat in a boosted chair at the kitchen table, not caring less about the pancake crumbs, syrup and orange juice all dribbling down her chin. Her fingers were sticky and she was grateful for the bib that Daddy had put on her so she wouldn’t get outfit messy and have to change into one of those silly dresses.

Daddy tuts and gets out some wet-wipes, cleaning his messy little girl’s fingers and face, grabbing her nose a little afterwards and making Sheridan giggle as she tried to bat his hands away. Silly Daddy!

"Did my magic pancakes make Princess Sheridan feel all better?" He asks her, taking her plate to the sink to wash it up. "Your tummy all nice and warm and full?"

"Yeah!" She beams at him, happy to not be sticky anymore.

Sheridan can’t even remember well why she had been so upset when she had woken up. All her mind can seem to focus on is how tasty those pancakes were and how good Daddy was at flipping them high into the air and catching them in the pan, squirting the golden syrup on to make a smiley face. Daddy always did so much to make her feel better when she was upset. And a tiny part of her heart acknowledges that he doesn’t have to. He just likes to make her smile. She holds onto that thought. Because she doesn’t think it’s one that a three year old would have.

But she wasn’t three. She was a big girl. A big girl in Year 2 like Sammy and Emma and Amanda. And Sammy had said how it wasn’t nice to make people sad. Had Sheridan made Daddy sad recently? It feels like she has but she can’t quite remember when. Just the image of Daddy’s face looking much older and warn out, gazing at her with loss and regret. Had she done that?

Sheridan jumps off the chair and goes to where her father is standing in front of the sink, hands deep in suds and bubbles as he cleans the plate. She wraps her arms around his legs and he stills a little, blinking down at her, giving a light chuckle.

"What’s all this then?" He asks, unable to reciprocate properly with his hands wet.

Sheridan smiles warmly up at him; "Just...fank ’ou, Daddy. For everythin’. So’ry if I don’ say it ’nough. Don’ mean to make Daddy sad."

Daddy gazes down at her, looking vacant for a moment. Then his lips curls and he almost looks like he’s about to cry. Sheridan wonders if she’s done something wrong again. Except, now Daddy’s smiling, his eyes shining a little. He dries his hands and lifts Sheridan up, sitting her on the kitchen work-top beside the sink, ignoring the dirty plates for a moment. Ignoring the world for his daughter.

"You," He says, voice breaking a bit from being so touched, his finger tapping her nose; "My little princess, could never do anything to make me sad. You’re the one who makes me happier than anything in the whole wide world. It’s only right I try to make you just as happy. And you’re welcome, okay? Would you like to help Daddy wipe up?"

Sheridan nods, little dimples glowing as she smiles back at him. There’s not a lot she can do in this body but she can wipe with a stupid rag if nothing else. And she wants to feel useful. Start helping her dad out a bit instead of being so selfish and spoilt. She sits on the work top with her rainbow-clad feet tapping the sides, wiping down the plates and cups after Daddy finishes wiping them.

At one point he gathers up a load of bubbles and blows them into the air, in her direction, making her giggle as they pop on her face. She very nearly falls off the work-top but Daddy catches her. He always does.

"We go take me to po’ice station now?" She suddenly remembers, the pleasant fog clearing in her mind from after the pancakes; "Find out how to make me big again?"

"You’re right, baby. We do need to go out." Daddy says, making Sheridan feel a wave of relief that they are going to get this sorted out.

It’s starting to feel too...normal, being this small. This helpless and dependant.

Daddy finds a pair of shoes, the only ones that will fit her anymore, a tiny pair of buckle-ups with flowers on the end that match her overalls. Sheridan makes an attempt to do them up herself but once again her fingers fail her and she finds herself padding over to Daddy and tugging at his trousers, silently asking him to do it for her. It’s so embarrassing having to ask that she can’t even form the words. Daddy just pats her hair and does them for her without a word. She appreciates that.

He then leads Sheridan out to the car where she raises her eyes at the sight of a child seat fitted into the back.

"Don’ ’ave to sit in that, do I?" She asks, her cheeks turning scarlet.

"They’ll pull me over if they see me letting you sit in the car without it. You don’t want Daddy to get arrested do you?"

Sheridan shakes her head. No, that would be the worst thing. Who would believe she was little? Where would she end up? And Daddy didn’t deserve to go to jail. The thought physically makes her shudder.

And so she reluctantly allows herself to be strapped into the car-seat. Sheridan sighs at the four-point strap trapping her in. This was feeling worse by the second.

"Here. Maybe this will make you feel a little better?" Daddy says softly, handing Sheri her stuffed lion.

Sheridan blinked at the lion. She didn’t understand how a teddy was going to make this any better? She gives her dad a bit of an off look. The expression on his face seems to indicate that this was a genuine attempt to cheer her up. Just like the bubbles, which had worked, but...she’d just been caught up in the moment...

"You know ’M not weally fwee, righ’?" She frowns a little, praying that her dad hasn’t fallen under the spell too.

"Of course I know that, baby." He smiles, placing the lion beside her chair regardless; "But I saw that Kiara cheered you up earlier so - just in case, there she is. If you want her."

She won’t, Sheridan thinks. But she gives her father a tiny smile to placate him and his efforts, as silly as they are.

Dad gets in the driver’s seat and smiles at his little girl in the rear-view mirror before he starts the car up. He turns on the music, his own iPod hooked up to the system. Sheridan is about to complain before remembering that it’s been years since she ever took her music (which was back when they were still using CDs) into the car on road-trips with her dad. Fortunately Dad has never had that bad a taste and she can’t help but smile a little when a Guns & Roses song starts. If her father had put on a selection of nursery rhymes then she might have screamed until the car windows smashed.

It takes a while for Sheri to realise that she’s singing along a little while staring out the window at the passing scenery. The music brings back distant images and feelings of warmth and closeness that had long since been shoved to the far corners of her mind for so very long. She only notices when she realises that Dad is joining in a little as well and gives her a wink in the mirror as he drives. Sheridan blushes, having forgotten this was once ’Their Song’ when she was a little girl. For a moment she wonders when it stopped being Their Song? Maybe when she started realising how uncool that old music was...But uncool didn’t always mean not good. It was complicated.

She’s so lost in her thoughts that when the car is finally parked and her dad is unstrapping her from the car-seat, it takes a while for it to become obvious to her that they are clearly not anywhere near the vicinity of a police station. In fact it’s with a pang of horror that she realises that they’re at the local supermarket.

Dad tries to lift her out but she pulls away and shuffles back, cheeks flushing at the thought of anyone seeing her like this.

"Why did you b’ing me here? You said we go to po’ice stash-station!" She looks betrayed.

"We will, darlin’. But first we just have to pick up some groceries. It will have escaped your attention because you’ve been poorly recently but our kitchen is about as empty as your cousin Millie’s head. Almost."

The joke brings a small chortle out of Sheridan and makes her forget her anger for a brief moment.

Dad gently takes her little hand; "We haven’t got much to get. It will be over before you know it and then we’ll go get this whole Amazing Shrinking Sheridan thing sorted out, yeah?"

Sheri grins again, her head feeling all fuzzy and light for some reason, her chubby fingers winding around Daddy’s much larger but safe ones. He keeps holding her hand because it would probably attract more attention if she was just toddling around on her own, Sheridan thinks, but she keeps her head down regardless. She prays that no one will talk to Dad. He won’t bump into anyone who knows the two of them and who might recognise her like this.

When Dad gets out a trolley, he goes to lift Sheri up to put her in the seat at the front but she shies away and shakes her head.

"I can walk!" She proclaims, stamping her foot and instantly regretting it, realising how childish the action was.

Dad just shrugs; "Suit yourself. I thought it might be easier for you. Stay close to Daddy then, baby, and don’t run off now, okay?"

He’s using an extra sickly voice and Sheri doesn’t like it at all. Until she realises that he’s purposely putting it on as part of the show. They’re just a man and his daughter out getting the weekly shop. Nothing worth paying attention to.

And Sheri would like to keep it that way, thank you very much.