Saturday mornings were lovely for Mr. Anderson. He would wake up reasonably early, while the house was still in complete silence in perfect peace, and enjoy his cup of coffee and that day's newspaper pleasantly in the kitchen. But this time, something was different. As he walked down the stairs he thought he could hear a loud, messy noise coming from the living room. Someone was already up and watching the TV.

"...just for you! In the house of Blue..."

The man chuckled and kept on walking, approaching the source of the music. His youngest son was singing along to the theme song of a show that, in Mr. Anderson's opinion, was a tad too childish, even for his four-year-old.

"Well, good morning little man, how are you up this early?" he commented, nearing the sofa, where the boy was sitting with his back to him.

His small body tensed to the shock of hearing his father behind him. He noticed how the soft building in his son's chest, the one he some nights watched and adored, at the sight of his little one falling asleep curled up close to him, fists close to his face, respiration becoming regular and quieter, had frozen. And he could totally, knowing his son like he did, see his brain working at full speed and realizing he had forgotten the possibility of someone else waking up and finding him there.

"What's wrong?" Dad insisted however, slightly frowning with concern. His son was never quiet.

The kid turned around quickly, barely, flashing his father a big, fake smile. There was something off, though; he had turned way too quickly and his smile was way too... Oh.

His father's expression changed in a matter of milliseconds.

"Blaine, did you find the Oreos?"

And that was it. Dad had seen right through him. He was certain he would be grounded for the rest of his days, confined to the darkness of his room, with the lonely company of his toys. The thought of never feeling the sunlight against his skin terrified him. He had to at least try to avoid telling the truth.

"No,I didn't," he muttered.

"Blaine," his father repeated sternly. "Did you find the Oreos?"

He knew this meant serious business. Blaine was thoughtful and pouting.

"No, you found the Oreos," maybe he'd be able to trick his father and confuse him.

"I'm going to give you one last chance, okay, Blaine?" he raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms across his chest. No son of his would be dishonest, let alone with him. "Now tell me, did you find the---"

"OH MY GOD YES I DID, OH MY GOD, I'M SO SORRY DADDY, I REALLY AM," the child couldn't help himself anymore and sprinted unsteadily, hugging his leg. Mr. Anderson jumped with surprise; it was amazing how fast the sugar kicked in when it came to the tot. Blaine took a very deep breath, desperate for air, and continued while his eyes filled with tears. He hated feeling guilty. �"I REALLY DIDN'T MEAN TO, IT WAS STRONGER THAN ME, I--"

He was overly surprised when Dad interrupted him by bending back a bit and letting a laugh out, arms still over his chest.

"You're such an unusual little man," he said in between chuckles. "Come with me," he suggested while releasing himself from the boy's grip in his legs and taking him in his arms instead.

Blaine didn't hesitate, despite how puzzled he was feeling at that very moment. Not being able to gather enough courage to look up, he was carried into the kitchen.

"You know, there's a reason we hide those Oreos," his laughter was controlled now, but not his good humor. "And I think you know why."

The boy nodded slowly and looked at him through his eyelashes. "Because the amount of sugar that they have gets me all sorts of excited and hyper and I already have enough energy to race around the world two times in a row," he repeated by heart his mother's words.

"That's exactly why. Now, don't worry, this time we'll let it pass; but remember that Mom and I do this just because we want what's best for you, alright Blaine?"

"Alright daddy," he agreed with a glowing, still somewhat timid beam on his face. "But I have a question..." He continued, now looking as confused as before.

"Tell me,"

"How did you realize?" he was amazed by how easily the man saw through him.

"Well, mainly because you have black crumbs all over your face," he smiled and crouched, so their faces were right before the shiny oven door.

The child frowned, looked at himself, and every little ounce of confusion disappeared. Somehow, he had managed to get himself all dirty with Oreo crumbs not only around his mouth, but also next to his nose. And under his eye. And right next to his ear.

Dad sat him on the counter, took a damp dish towel and gently rubbed all along Blaine's face with it. "It beats me how you were able to get this filthy."

Blainey shrugged, and as soon as his father took the dish towel away from him, he could spot an innocent half-smile growing on his lips.

"Do you want to watch some more TV? At least until Mom and Cooper are up, and then we can go have lunch at Breadstix," he asked his son, tossing the dish towel to the side and still hoping to enjoy his Saturday morning newspaper and coffee.

"Actually, I have a better idea..."

"I don't think we should have let him eat that cupcake," Mom said to Dad, looking at how her youngest son was running around the backyard, pretending to fly, and making his own sound effects.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHH," Blaine approached to them, now running in circles around them. "Look, I'm just like Aladdin! Only without the flying carpet!" he stopped dead in his tracks and turned to his parents with eyes popping out of their sockets. "Can we buy one of those?"

"You didn't really have a choice, don't be so hard on yourselves," Cooper was lying next to them, eating an apple on the white and red checkered picnic blanket as his baby brother ran away once more, not even waiting for an answer. "His cuteness makes him very manipulative. Otherwise, we wouldn't have had this picnic in the first place."