Baby Baloos
Part 1

TaleSpin and its characters are property of Disney. All other characters are mine and cannot be used without permission.

Higher for Hire
July 1939

Rebecca von Bruinwald, a petite brown bearess, sank into her chair with a relieved sigh. She pulled herself as close to her desk as her protruding abdomen would allow. The cub she was expecting sharply kicked her in the ribs, apparently protesting about being wedged against the edge of the desk. Rebecca rubbed her stomach gingerly, murmuring, “Sorry, little one, but Mommy’s got work to do.” She then wiped a droplet of sweat from her nose, thinking ruefully, I would have to be nine months pregnant during the worst heat wave Cape Suzette’s ever had.

Feeling as if she was broiling alive, Rebecca pointed the oscillating fan directly on her face, causing the stacks of weighted-down papers to rustle. There was another fan on the floor beside the desk. She turned it on to ‘high’. The fans only blew the hot air around, but it was better than nothing. She took a long gulp of ice-cold lemonade and picked up her pencil.

Just as soon as Rebecca had opened her ledger, the radio on the other side of the room crackled, “Sea Duck to Higher for Hire. Come in, Higher for Hire.”

Tossing the pencil aside, Rebecca said through gritted teeth, “I can’t get any work done with that bearbothering me every two minutes!” She sighed in exasperation, hoisted herself with difficulty out of the chair, and waddled over to the radio.

As Rebecca laboriously made her way across the room, Baloo repeatedly asked, “Beckers? Are ya there, Becky? Honey?”

The bearess picked up the receiver and jabbed her thumb down on the transmit button. “What is it now, Baloo?”

“Just checkin’ up on ya,” the pilot replied defensively.

“I’ve told you time and again - just like I told you ten seconds ago and ten seconds before that - that I’d radio you at the first sign of a contraction.”

“I know, honey, but I don’t like bein’ so far away when the baby might decide ta pop out at any second,” Baloo said concernedly, “especially since it’s two weeks past yer due date.”

Rebecca smirked. “Gee,” she said sarcastically, “I wonder where the baby got that. No one in our family is ever late.”

“Go ahead, yuk it up, Rebecca,” Baloo mumbled, peeved.

Through her laughter, she said, “Okay, I will. Kit, can you please explain to your father that I can take care of myself, and that I have a ton of paperwork that needs to get done if we’re going to pay for this baby? Make sure you use small words and speak slowly so that he will understand.”

A smile crossed Rebecca’s face as she listened to her fourteen-year-old son solemnly repeat what she had said.

“Yeah, yeah, smarty-pants, I heard her the first time,” the pilot grumbled.

“Thanks, sweetie!”

There was scuffling and bumping as Kit stole the microphone. “No problem, Mom.”

Rebecca laughed when Baloo exclaimed, “No fair gangin’ up on me! Gimmee the mike, Li’l Britches! Are ya okay, Beckers?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Goodbye, Baloo,” she said pointedly.

“All right, all right. Sea Duck out.”

Rebecca waited by the radio. She fanned herself with an invoice. It felt like she had her own personal heater strapped to her stomach. Coupled with the oppressive July heat and humidity, it was simply unbearable in the stuffy little office. She’d like to take a refreshing dip in the harbor, but she knew that she’d never be able to get out once she got in.

As she had expected, Baloo asked over the radio, “Are ya one hundred percent, abso-tutely sure yer okay, Becky?”

The bearess burst out laughing. She found her husband’s near-manic concern for her both sweet and annoying. It made her want to kiss him and strangle him at the same time. “For the last time YES!” she shouted. Still giggling, she added, “Be careful, guys.”

“Love ya, honey. Sea Duck out.”

Before Rebecca could turn around, Baloo said, “Hey, Becky, make sure ya remember yer promise.”

Picking up the receiver, Rebecca said wearily, “I remember - no Berthas.”

“An’ no Dexters. I still think ya should name him Baloo, Jr,” he hinted none-too-subtly.

“I don’t think so, flyboy. One Baloo in the family is more than enough.”

“Aw...” the big bear groaned in disappointment.

“Bye, Baloo, and I mean it this time!”

“Yes, sir, boss lady. Sea Duck out.”

Rebecca headed towards her desk and the mountain of ledgers and paperwork on it. Halfway across the office, she changed her mind and instead waddled slowly outside. Even though it was only mid-morning, the hot sun beat down on her mercilessly. She made her way around to the rear of Higher for Hire where her eight-year-old daughter Molly was playing in the sandbox underneath the shady elm tree.

“Lookee, Mommy. It’s my best one yet,” the little yellow cub stated proudly, pointing to her sand castle complete with elaborate turrets, doorways, and windows. She’d worked on it for the past two days.

“Very nice, Pumpkin,” her mother said admiringly. She patted the little girl on the head. “Molly, could you play inside and answer the radio for me? Your daddy’s driving me up the wall.”

“Again?” Molly remarked with a sympathetic smile, slipping her sandy paw into her mother’s.

“Yes, again.” Rebecca sighed tiredly, putting her free hand on her aching back. “Let’s get out of this sun. Maybe I’ll radio Baloo and ask him to bring me some snow from Thembria.”

Molly looked alarmed. “Don’t do that, Mom. He’ll get arrested for stealing snow.”

“I forgot about that,” the bearess murmured, sorely disappointed. Sitting in a bathtub full of snow sounded really appealing. “The heat must be bothering me more than I thought.”

Thembria

It was a typical frigid, blustery day in Thembria’s capital city. A thick bank of grey clouds blocked out every vestige of sunlight, leaving the snow-covered, treeless country in gloomy greyness. A howling, piercingly cold wind pummeled everything in its path and whipped the powdery snow around.

Rows and rows of identical snow-roofed houses lined the narrow streets of the city. There was no business district, because there was only one government-controlled Glorious People’s General Store. In front of this store stretched an interminable line of shivering, rag-clad warthog peasants. All had waited in that line for hours just to purchase a few turnips and a bowl of gruel, hoping against hope that there wasn’t another shortage.

In the middle of the city stood a stoutly-built, five-story, snow-capped stone building that stretched as far as the eye could see. At the exact center of this imposing building was a dome, and atop the dome waved the Thembrian flag - a white semi-circle imposed on a black background. It was a fitting symbol for Thembria’s snowy bleakness. This building housed the Glorious Republic of Thembria’s official offices. It was also where the perpetual ruler of Thembria - the High Marshall - made all of his important decisions.

At that time, the High Marshall, an extremely portly grey-blue warthog clad in a purple coat with a red sash and a matching cap, was performing a very important task. He was lounging in his comfortable chair, getting his tusks polished.

When the head of the Glorious People’s Air Force walked into the room, the High Marshall impatiently pushed the official tusk polisher away. In a thick Thembrian accent, he said languidly, “You are probably wondering why I summoned you, Colonel Nozzle.”

“That’s Spigot, sir,” the very, veryshort warthog corrected timidly with a pronounced lisp on the letter ‘S’. He rocked on his heels nervously and tugged on the collar of his maroon coat. “But Nozzle has such a nice ring to it. I’ll change my name at once!”

The High Marshall shot him a withering stare and once again pushed the tusk polisher away. He wondered why he hadn’t had Spigot shot long ago. “Whatever, Faucet. Our intelligence officers at the TBG (Thembrian Bureau of Guises) have received word that spies from Usland are preparing to invade our country to do irreparable damage to our beloved Great Patriotic Flying Flounder statue.”

“Not the Great Patriotic Flying Flounder statue located in the People’s Glorious Square?” Spigot gasped in horror.

“Yes, that one,” the High Marshall said, highly peeved at the interruption. “Do not interrupt me again, Drainpipe, or you will be shot.”

“A thousand pardons, O Mighty Mucky Muck.”

Over the noise of the polishing machine, the High Marshall said, “In an attempt to destroy Thembria’s patriotism, these Usland spies are going to attack the statue.”

“Nothing can make Thembrians turn their backs on their glorious Mommyland! Not even capitalistic Usland swine!”

Annoyed, the High Marshall shoved the polisher to the floor. The scrawny warthog slunk across the floor to the door, his polisher still whirring. “Your mission - and you will accept it upon penalty of being shot by a firing squad and then hung - is to root out these spies before they desecrate the statue. According to the TBG, the Usland spies’ code word for beginning the demolition is ‘labor’. That is all you need to know. Now, go away and don’t report back until you have successfully completed your task, Colonel Nozzle,” he ordered gruffly. He folded his hands and closed his eyes.

“Spigot,” the colonel corrected.

The High Marshall cracked one eye open to glare at the colonel. “Just get going.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” Colonel Spigot saluted and quickly retreated in search of his toady, Sergeant Dunder.

One story down, Sergeant Dunder sat behind a desk in a high-ceilinged room. The large, mild-mannered warthog was surrounded by mounds of papers as tall as he. He stamped each paper with a black ‘W’, indicating that those papers were processed on Wednesday. It was long, hard, tedious, taxing work, and he wasn’t getting paid very much to do it; however, Dunder wasn’t depressed. On the contrary, he was fairly happy, because he was stamping those endlessly endless amounts of papers to the beat of a peppy song on K-CAPE radio, broadcast out of Cape Suzette. Work always seemed to go faster when he was listening to K-CAPE.

“Grey skies are gonna clear up,” sang the Gandrews Sisters over the radio in jazzy, three-part harmony; “put on a happy face...”

When he heard the patter of Colonel Spigot’s little feet in the hallway, Dunder quickly turned the tuning knob. Listening to anything except State Programming was a capital offence in Thembria.

The man over the radio said in a no-nonsense voice, “This is K-BORE, Thembria’s Glorious People’s Radio Service. If you listen to anything else, you will be shot. Here’s Boris with the weather.”

In the bored tone of a man who had related the same forecast day in and day out for the past ten years, Boris droned, “Today - cold, cloudy, chance of snow. Thursday - cold, cloudy, chance of snow. Friday - cold, cloudy, chance of snow.”

A new announcer said dramatically, “Now, onto another exciting episode of the Glorious Colossal Thembrian People’s Court. Today, the condemned are charged with stealing official Thembrian government ice shavings.”

Colonel Spigot stormed across the room and flipped off the radio. “What are you doing, Sergeant Dunder?” he snapped irately.

“Stamping the official DD-D5-AS forms with the official Wednesday stamp like you told me to, sir,” Dunder replied, continuing to stamp papers methodically.

“Forget what I told you to do, and do what I’m telling you to do.”

Dunder stopped; the hand holding the stamp halted midair. “What are we doing, Colonel Spigot, sir?”

Spigot glanced around furtively. Grunting, he stood on tiptoe to lean over the desk, but it was too tall. He could barely see over it. Instead, he walked around it until he faced Dunder. He whispered, “We’re looking for spies.”

“Spies, sir?” Dunder’s eyes grew wider.

“Shh!” Spigot clapped a paw over Dunder’s mouth. “Spies are everywhere! Do you want them to know that we’re looking for them?”

With Spigot’s hand still over his mouth, Dunder shook his head.

“Follow me, and be quiet!” he shouted, his voice reverberating in the cavernous room. After a nervous, furtive glance around, he hissed, “If those spies know that we’re seeking for them, they’ll go into hiding.” Spigot marched out of the room with Dunder trotting meekly behind.

Meanwhile

On the other side of Thembria’s capital city, Baloo and Kit were unloading their shipment of pink lawn flamingoes at the Ministry of Lawn Ornaments.

Baloo picked up an unwieldy box almost as tall as himself and staggered down the back hatch’s tailgate. “I’m tellin’ ya, Kit, we keep draggin’ these same birds back an’ forth. One of these days, I’m gonna mark one somehow an’ prove it to ya.”

“If you say so, Papa Bear,” Kit said with an amused smile. He secretly thought the drastic temperature shift from hot to cold was wreaking havoc with Baloo’s head. He once again bent over his clipboard, scribbling on a big pile of official Thembrian shipping/receiving forms.

Actually, Baloo was correct. The lawn flamingo trade was a vicious cycle in that the Thembrians painted the birds blue and sold them to Usland for fifty cents. Accordingly, Usland repainted them pink and sold them back to Thembria at a dollar apiece. Who knew that lawn ornaments could be the cause of a power struggle between two countries?

When the Colonel Spigot and Sergeant Dunder passed the Sea Duck, Kit watched them rummage through the boxes of flamingoes. Wondering why they were searching through boxes containing pink flamingoes, the boy called out in a friendly manner, “Hey, Dunder, what are you looking for?”

Dunder sauntered over to the cub. “Hi, Kit. The colonel and I are looking for spies. Oops! Shouldn’t have told you that. It’s top secret,” he said, glancing nervously in Spigot’s direction. “I might be sent to a firing squad, or something worse.”

Kit hid a smile, thinking,Thembrians and their crazy schemes. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” The cub winked, gestured as if he zipped his lip, and returned to filling out official Thembrian paperwork.

Just as Kit had flipped to the twenty-seventh page of the first set of forms, Molly’s agitated voice came unexpectedly over the Sea Duck’s radio. “Higher for Hire to Sea Duck. Come in Sea Duck. Can you hear me, Daddy? Kit? Anybody? Mommy’s in labor, and we’re going to the hospital right now!”

Dropping the clipboard, Kit sprinted to the cockpit and picked up the microphone. “I’m here, Molly,” he said breathlessly.

No answer.

“Molly?”

Nothing but static.

The boy dropped the receiver and ran through the cargo hold to where his father was trying to lift the box onto a conveyer belt. “Baloo!”

“What?” Baloo turned around - box and all - but couldn’t see the boy over the gigantic box.

Kit ran to the other side and tugged on Baloo’s elbow. “Papa Bear!”

“What, Kit?” Baloo turned his head the other way.

Giving up on making eye contact with his father, Kit said, “Molly radioed that Mom’s in labor.”

THUNK went the box that Baloo was carrying as it dropped to the floor. He spun on his heel and began shoving boxes out of the cargo hold as fast as he could. “Becky’s in labor? Cargo or no, we gotta go!”

Spigot’s ears perked up when he heard the so-called secret code word. He charged up to the two bears. “I’m Colonel Spigot. Perhaps you’ve heard of me. I’m going to have to detain you for questioning.”

“Yer gonna hafta take a rain check on the questions, Spiggy. We’ve gotta fly back ta Cape Suzette ASAP. My wife’s in labor.” Baloo stepped around the short colonel.

“Guards! Arrest these bears at once!” Spigot shouted. Four heavily armed, brawny warthogs dragged Baloo and Kit to prison.

“Aw, man, what did we do this time?” Baloo cried.

An Hour Later

Baloo sat alone in a pitch-black room, tied hand and heel to a metal, straight-backed chair. Upon entering the prison, he and Kit had been separated. Kit had been taken to a holding cell whereas Baloo had ended up here - wherever here was. He’d been wrongfully imprisoned, he was freezing, the ‘Big Guy’ was rumbling, and his wife was in the hospital. No wonder he was grumbling angrily as he attempted to wriggle out of the ropes. “Gotta get ta Cape Suzette. Gotta get ta Becky. Stupid Spiggy! Knew I shoulda stayed home today.”

Suddenly, a door slammed open and a bright light shone directly into Baloo’s eyes. It took a few minutes for him to accustom himself to the blinding light. “Hey, what’s the big idea?” Through the spots, he could see the dark outline of a small form.

“Silence, you! I’ll ask the questions!”

“Oh, great,” Baloo groaned, “it’s Spiggy.”

“Spigot! Where were you at 10:00 PM on October 5, 1902?” the colonel snapped, staring the baffled pilot in the face.

Baloo shrugged as best as he could. “I was only two years old. Don’t remember what I was doin’. Probably sleepin’.”

“A likely alibi. That’s what all spies say.” Spigot waved his riding whip at the bear.

“Spies?” Baloo snorted. “You think Kit an’ me are spies? We’re just cargo pilots droppin’ off yer silly pink flamingoes.” Once again, he tried to twist out of the ropes that constrained him.

“Pink flamingoes?” Spigot paced around the room, deep in thought. Abruptly, he stopped in front of Baloo. “Ah-HA! Suddenly everything is clear. The flamingoes are a brightly-colored distraction so that you can desecrate our Great Patriotic Flounder statue without us knowing it. Everyone knows that flamingoes are blue, not pink!”

“What!” Baloo cried in amazement. A crafty look crossed his face. “Yeah, ya guessed it, Spiggy, an’ after we take yer flounder, we’re gonna steal the Leanin’ Tower of Pizza. It’s a plot ta take over the world one monument at a time.”

“I knew it! And, I, the brilliant, magnanimous, yet humble, Spigot, am the first to uncover your dastardly plot! I’ll be famous! I can see the front page of the Glorious People’s Newspapernow - General Ivanov Spigot Stops Spies’ Crime Spree.” He chortled gleefully to himself, imagining big things in his short head.

Baloo rolled his eyes. “Aw, who cares about yer stupid fish an’ yer birds. My wife’s in labor.” He hopped in his chair across the room towards the open door.

“The secret code word!” Spigot blocked the door with his short frame. “Admit it, Baloo. You are a spy.”

“The only thing I spy is a quick exit. Why doncha torture someone yer own size, Spiggy? I’m outta here.” Baloo plowed right over the colonel and hopped down the hall.

“Dunder-her-her! Catch...him! Oh...” Spigot moaned weakly while he lay, a crumpled mass, on the floor.

At the prison cell...

“So, ‘labor’ really, truly means that your mother is having a baby instead of code for ‘destroy the Great Patriotic Flounder statue’,” Dunder said slowly.

“You’ve got it!” Kit sighed in relief. He impatiently tapped his fingers on the bars of the cell. After thirty minutes of trying to explain the simple situation, the thick-headed, big, grey warthog finally understood.

“You’re not spies?”

“Never have been.” Kit smiled innocently.

“Then you shouldn’t be here.”

“Nope. Baloo really needs to get back to Cape Suzette. Can’t you get us free, Dunder? Please?”

“Well...I do have access to the keys, but it’s against Thembrian regulations to release a prisoner without filing forms 1234 dash 5 stroke 6 and 9876 dash 5 stroke 4 in triplicate. One in General Gaol’s in-box and two in the High Marshall out-box. Signed and stamped by all the proper authorities. It’ll take months, maybe even years.”

“Years?” Kit squeaked, leaning wearily against the bars. He wondered how old he would be when he finally got out. Twenty? Maybe thirty? He’d never get to fly!

From out of nowhere, a sultry female voice belted out a slow ballad. “Some bear to watch over me...”

Dunder looked around in surprise at the familiar voice. “Is that Rosebeary Clooney? Did the Colonel arrest her, too?”

From beneath his shirt, Kit pulled a small gadget. “Nah, Dunder, it’s my portable radio. Wildcat made it, and it gets awesome reception. Last week, Papa Bear and I listened to a Sox game all the way from Zapan.”

Dunder gazed wistfully at the radio. “Zapan’s on the other side of the world from Usland. That’s even farther away than Thembria.”

Baloo bounced up to the prison cell, still confined to his chair; the chair made a horrible scraping sound on the cement floor as he scooted along. “Time ta vamoose, Li’l Britches, while Spiggy’s down for the count,” he panted.

“We’re kinda in a hurry. Do the paperwork later, Dunder!” Kit exclaimed desperately. The boy heard the tramping of soldiers’ boots in the hallway, and he knew those hulking soldiers would have weapons. It was escape now or never.

“Please, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal!” Baloo pleaded.

Dunder wavered for a moment, his eyes passing from the big bear to his son.

“I’ll give you my radio,” Kit offered, holding the small device.

It was a tantalizing offer, but firing squads loomed in the back of his mind. “Oh...I don’t know.”

“I’ll send you new batteries whenever you need them,” Kit wheedled.

“Deal!” Without a second thought, Dunder took a key ring from its hook on the wall. He unlocked Kit’s cell. “But don’t tell anybody about this. I could get in big trouble, you know.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Kit promised as he sliced through Baloo’s ropes with his pocketknife.

As soon as he was free, Baloo started for the door at a run. “Thanks, pal! We owe ya big! If yer ever in Cape Suzette, stop by for a hot dog or ten!” he shouted as the two bears sprinted out of prison.

“Stop! Stop, spies!” Spigot panted, running up to Dunder. He leaned tiredly against the sergeant. “Why didn’t you stop them?”

“They were too fast for me, sir.” He patted the radio safely concealed in his pocket. Now he could listen to K-CAPE anytime he wanted.

“I’m taking away your radio!” Colonel Spigot yelled, smacking Dunder across the knees with his riding whip.

Dunder forced himself to appear disappointed. “Yes, Colonel Spigot, sir.”

Both warthogs stepped outside and began walking towards the big government building. “What am I going to tell the High Marshall?” Spigot said fretfully.

“Tell him it’s my fault, sir?” Dunder suggested.

“Yes, Dunder, it’s all your fault! This whole situation is your fault!”

“Yes, sir.” Dunder, who had been fingering the portable radio, accidentally flipped it on. Carmel Miranda’s Spanish voice belted out, “Mama, oh mama, oh mama, quero ser seu...” With wide eyes, he quickly turned it off.

“What did you say, Dunder?” Spigot said, staring at the big warthog suspiciously.

Blushing, Dunder whispered, “Nothing, sir.”

Cape Suzette Memorial Hospital

“Oh, I wish Baloo was here,” Rebecca murmured, cuddling the infant in her arms.

Ten minutes earlier, she had said the same thing, but with a much, muchdifferent connotation: “Oh, I wish Baloo was here! If that bear ever lays a finger on me again, I’ll strangle him, fire him, strangle him again, and break every bone in his fat body! Then he’ll need a hospital! OWWWWW-OWWWW! DOCTOR, WHERE ARE MY DRUGS!” Shaking the physician violently by his lapels, she screamed, “GIVE! ME! MY! DRUGS!”

But all of the pain and anguish of labor - well, some of it - had been forgotten when the nurse placed her baby in her arms.

“Do you have a name chosen, ma’am?” asked the nurse, clipboard in hand.

Rebecca smiled down at the newborn, then up at the nurse. “Yes, I’ve just thought of the perfect one.”

The Sea Duck

The beautiful blue sky was brushed with wind-swept cirrus clouds and, ten thousand feet below, the radiant, late afternoon sunlight glimmered off of the placid Pacific Ocean. The cockpit was hotter than the interior of a volcano, even with the windows down. But Baloo was oblivious to it all. He didn’t even notice the steady stream of perspiration dripping off the end of his nose onto his sweat-drenched shirt. He, hunched over the control yoke, was focused on one thing and one thing only - getting to Cape Suzette Memorial Hospital. He mumbled repeatedly under his breath, “Hang on, Becky, I’m comin’.”

In the co-pilot’s seat, Kit took off his cap and brushed sweat from his brow with his sleeve. He looked up from the map only to catch a glint of sunlight reflecting off of glass out of the corner of his eye. He stuck his head out the open window. Trouble! Five CT-37s were zooming up fast behind them. “Uh, Papa Bear, you’re not going to believe this, but air pirates are on our tail.”

Baloo groaned, rubbing his eyes wearily with a massive paw. “Oh, man! What do they want? I don’t got any cargo.”

Over the radio, the pirate captain Don Karnage said, “Surrender yourselves unto us, Sea Duck, or face the unspeakable, ugly wrath that is Karnage.”

“Yer wrath ain’t as ugly as yer ugly mug, Don Garbage,” Baloo chuckled into the mike.

“It is Karnage! Don Karnage! Roll the ‘R’. How can you insult my beautious self?”

“Like this.” Baloo blew a raspberry.

Father and son shared impish grins as the wolf screamed, “I’ll get you, Bahloo, if it’s the last thing I do this minute!”

“Ex-squeeze me, Karny, but ya gotta catch me first, an’ I don’t got time for fun an’ games today.” Baloo yanked the control yoke back sharply. “Time for the ol’ Baloo Corkscrew! Hang on to yer knees, Li’l Britches!”

Both bears knew that the pirates’ CT-37 fighters stalled out at the end of a steep climb and that none of the air pirates could follow complicated aerial maneuvers - a fact that the dim-witted pirates kept forgetting. True to form, the single-man tri-wings began falling away one by one.

The Sea Duckmade graceful arcs around the floundering CT-37s and kissed the surface of the ocean before leveling out. The pirates ate proverbial prop wash.

“Louie’s is just a mile east of here,” Kit mentioned.

“No time for sundaes now, kiddo. Gotta get home.” Baloo nudged the throttle up a little. Not for the last time did he wish that he still had his overdrive engines.

Kit grinned wryly to himself. He’d never thought he’d see the day when don’t-trouble-me-with-troubles Baloo would pass up a chance to go to his favorite party spot.

But it didn’t really surprise him. It was just another small change that Kit had noticed in his Papa Bear since he had literally run into him. On the outside, Baloo appeared the same: he wore the same yellow flight shirt, still possessed his easy-going personality, loved his ‘baby’, and enjoyed a good snooze in his hammock. However, he had become a little more responsible, a little more punctual, and even put others’ needs before his own - sometimes. In a nutshell, Baloo was finally growing up.

In an attempt to be cooler, the young navigator stuck his head out the window and watched the blue ocean speeding by below them. He wondered how his mother and new little sibling were faring.

End of part 1

Baby Baloos
Part 2

Cape Suzette
Rush Hour Traffic

HONK! HONK!

Another car answered irately with a BEEEEEEP followed by a “Hey, buddy, get outta the way!” from its driver.

“Yeah, same to ya!” yelled the first driver, thumbing his nose.

“Why, you!”

All up and down the street, horns were blaring and tempers were flaring.

The hot temperature was heating up tempers all over the city. If the awful heat wave wasn’t bad enough, the streets of downtown Cape Suzette were clogged with bumper-to-bumper cars. Commuters trying to get home after a long day’s work found themselves stuck in a horrible traffic jam due to an overheated truck blocking the road.

Baloo leaned over the front seat of the taxi that he and Kit were in. “Do ya think you could speed it up, pal?”

The taxi driver, an ape, said over his shoulder, “Through this traffic? Whattaya think this is - a plane?” He laughed derisively. “Those are the breaks, Mac.”

After Baloo leaned back, Kit whispered, “I think he’s riding the brakes.”

“Oh...” the big bear moaned, mopping sweat from his face with the hem of his shirt.

“That was a joke, Papa Bear,” the boy said with a wan smile.

Baloo pushed Kit’s cap down over his eyes with a sigh. “Yeah, I know, kid. I just hope Becky’s all right.”

“We’re movin’,” announced the taxi driver triumphantly. He put the yellow cab into ‘drive’. They inched ahead a few feet and halted once again. “We’re stoppin’. Sorry, folks.”

Baloo felt like banging his head against the seat in front of him in frustration. Instead, he clenched and unclenched his cap in his hands. “This is wrong.”

“What’s ‘wrong’?” Kit was almost positive that he had seen a snail zip past them.

“It took us less time gettin’ ta Cape Suzette from Thembria than it’s takin’ us ta get across town.”

Kit opened his mouth to say, “Not quite”, but quickly shut it. He didn’t think Baloo would appreciate being corrected just then. He stared out the open window where a group of teenagers was walking down the sidewalk, bottles of soda in hand. Kit smacked his dry lips. He was so thirsty. He fanned himself with his cap, almost wishing that they were still in cold Thembria instead of sitting in rush hour traffic in a smothering hot cab.

Cape Suzette Memorial Hospital
An Agonizingly Long Hour Later

The sun had sunk below the cliffs when Baloo and Kit hurried up the steps of the tall, brick hospital and burst into the air-conditioned lobby. Directly in front of them was the receptionist’s desk. On their left was a small, glassed-in cafeteria where a few people were munching on sandwiches and salads.

To their right was a large waiting room filled with couches and chairs and end tables with the obligatory outdated magazines. In one chair was an elderly elephant peering at theCape Suzette Tribune through his half-moon spectacles. A young male cheetah with a handlebar mustache nervously paced the length of the room, wringing his hands.

Baloo stood just inside the doorway. He loved the refreshing coolness of the room, but he hated hospitals. They gave him the willies, and somewhere in this maze of painful injections and sick people was his wife and newborn child.

When Kit spotted the back of Wildcat’s head, he peeked over the back of the sofa at the small lion and the little yellow bearess. He tugged one of Molly’s blue hair ribbons, saying, “Hello. Do I know you?”

“Kit! Daddy! ‘Bout time you’re here!” cried Molly. She tossed an old magazine aside and sprang off of the sofa. Practically jumping up and down, she caught her father’s hand. “We’ve been here all day. Do you want to see the new baby?”

“You betcha, Button-nose!” Baloo said, giving his daughter’s hand a squeeze.

“That’s why we’re here!” Kit exclaimed. He was as excited as his sister.

Molly led Baloo and Kit to the nursery’s viewing window, which was down the hallway behind the receptionist’s desk. “Lift me up, Daddy.”

Baloo scooped her up in his arms.

“There she is. The pretty one.” Molly stuck her finger to the glass, pointing to a tiny, slumbering grey bear cub wrapped in a pink blanket.

The name tag on her crib read:

Cassandra Amelia von Bruinwald
Born July 7, 1939
6 lbs. 2 oz.

Wildcat remarked candidly, “She needs to have some wrinkles ironed out. Can they do that here in the hospital, or do we have to take her to the dry cleaners?”

“She’s so tiny,” Kit whispered.

Baloo didn’t say anything for a long time. He just stared at the baby, transfixed. After nine months of waiting and anticipating, there she was. His daughter. Then, he noticed the name tag. Blinking in surprise, he leaned closer for a better look. It did say what he thought it did. Feeling a lump forming in his throat, he murmured huskily, “Becky, you thoughtful sweetheart.”

“You okay, Daddy?” Molly asked concernedly, wiping a tear from his cheek with her hand.

“Yeah...yeah, Dumplin’. I’m fine.” He gave Molly a watery smile. Clearing his throat self-consciously, he explained, “Cassandra was my mama’s name.”

“I think Cassandra looks a lot like you, Papa Bear,” Kit said with an understanding grin. He gently squeezed Baloo’s arm.

“Her fur is the same color as yours - a greyish-brown or maybe more of a brownish-grey. And she has your nose, though hers is itsy-bitsy.” Wildcat pinched his thumb and forefinger together.

Without warning or seeming provocation, Cassandra screwed up her face and let out an ear-piercing shriek that could easily be heard through the glass. The infants on either side of her - a baby alligator and a baby monkey - joined in on the wailing.

“She’s got my good looks, but she sure got Becky’s lungs.” Baloo chuckled, setting Molly on her feet. He furtively passed the back of his hand over his eyes. “Can I see yer mama, Pigtails?”

“I don’t know. I can’t, ‘cause I’m not old enough,” Molly pouted, sticking out her lower lip. “Stupid hospital rule.”

The two cubs and Wildcat settled themselves on the waiting room sofa, chattering excitedly, as Baloo strolled to the receptionist’s desk. “Can ya give me the room number of Becky, um, Rebecca von Bruinwald? She’s my wife who just had the purdiest baby gal ya ever laid yer peepers on,” he proclaimed proudly. “She’s over there if ya wanna take a peek at her. My baby, I mean. Can’t ya hear her? She’s the one with the real loud cry.”

“Congratulations,” the secretary, an ostrich, said with an amused smile. Every father thought their baby was perfect. She flipped through a rolodex. “Room 231. Down that hall, sir.” She pointed to her right.

“Thanks.” Baloo hurried down the antiseptic-scented, glaringly white hallway. He lightly rapped his knuckles on the slightly ajar door of room 231. “Knock, knock, anybody home?”

Rebecca didn’t answer, because she was sound asleep.

Baloo tiptoed into the room and pulled a chair up beside the bed. Plopping down in the chair, he grasped his wife’s hand and tenderly ran a finger down her cheek. After a few moments, Rebecca’s eyelids fluttered open.

“Hey,” Baloo murmured, grinning.

“Hey, yourself,” Rebecca whispered.

“You were s’posed ta wait ‘til I got here, Beckers.”

“The baby got impatient. Just like you, she couldn’t wait.” She squeezed his paw with a sleepy smile. “Have you seen our baby, Baloo?”

“Yeah. She’s bee-you-ti-ful, Beckers, just like you.” He pressed his lips to hers.

“Do you like her name?” the bearess asked with a shy, yet sly, smile.

Baloo’s eyes misted up again. “Yeah, my mama’s. Where’d ya get Amelia? Amelia Airhead?”

“Contrary to popular belief, Baloo, not everything has to do with aviation. It was my grandmother’s name. I thought she should have names from both sides of the family.” She winced in pain as she attempted to sit up.

“Here, let me help ya, honey.” Baloo piled pillows against the headboard, and, taking her by the arms, gently slid her up against them. He perched on the edge of the bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Sighing with happiness and weariness, Rebecca leaned against him. He smooched the top of her head. “How’re ya feelin’?”

Rebecca gave a short laugh. “I’ve felt better. Glad that’s over and doubly glad that I can get back to my old size. I was tired of being as big as you.” She yawned. “How do you stand it, Baloo?”

Baloo was so happy that his wife’s barbs about his weight didn’t bother him. “Years of practice, Becky.” He grinned from ear to ear when a nurse appeared in the doorway with a precious pink bundle. “Well, lookee who’s here.”

“Feeding time,” the nurse, a young bearess in a white uniform, carefully handed the tiny cub to Rebecca.

“Can I hold her?” Baloo eagerly held out his arms.

“Of course, darling.” Rebecca placed the baby in his arms. “Support her head and neck...like that.” She smiled dreamily at her husband’s ecstatic expression as he gazed in awe at their baby.

“Hey, Cassie, I’m yer daddy,” he crooned softly. He placed the tip of his pinky finger in her teeny paw. When the infant instinctively curled her fingers around it, Baloo was hooked for life. “What a grip you’ve got. Yes, ya do. Yes, ya do. Woogie-woogie-woogie-woo.”

Rebecca hid a smile at the irony of her large husband speaking baby talk. He never ceased to amaze her.

“You’re a strong little thing, Cassie. Man, she’s so little, Becky. She fits just right in the palm of my hand.”

“She didn’t feel that little to me,” Rebecca said sarcastically.

“Snug as a bug in a rug in your purdy pink blankie, ain’t ya, Cassie?”

Rebecca commented, “She must be a keeper, because she already has a nickname, courtesy of her father.”

Baloo looked up in surprise. “What - Cassie? Cassie fits her better. Cassandra’s too big a name for this little gal, an’ it’s easier ta say. Can’t ya just hear us yellin’ upstairs, ‘Kit, Molly, and Cassie, haul yer tailsections down here right this second!’?”

“Eloquently put, as usual, Baloo.” Rebecca chuckled, running her fingers through Cassie’s thick thatch of hair, the ends of which curled slightly.

“She’s so perfect,” Baloo said. “Perfect little ears, an’ nose, an’ fingers, an’ toes.” He gently tweaked each of those respective body parts. “Becky, look! Look! She’s openin’ her eyes,” the proud papa hissed.

“Hi, baby,” cooed Rebecca. “Do you want to see the people who are talking about you?”

Baloo peered into the infant’s nearsighted, wondering brown eyes, which like her mother’s, were ringed with lighter fur; he was secretly pleased that they resembled his wife’s. “Hiya, Cassie, Cupcake.”

Whimpering, Cassie kicked her little legs and flailed her arms as best as she could wrapped up in her baby bunting. The goofy grin disappeared from the big bear’s face.

“What’s wrong with her, Becky? Am I hurtin’ her?” Baloo inquired anxiously.

“I think she’s hungry. It’s hard work being born, isn’t it, Cassandra? It was hard work for Mommy, too.”

Baloo passed the cub to his wife, who guided the infant’s mouth to her breast. The cub greedily began to suckle.

“She’s her father’s daughter all right. Look at her eat.” Rebecca smiled down at the infant, hugging her close. “Mommy’s hungry little girl.”

Baloo pulled the blanket up around Cassie’s shoulders. “What a day! I thought me an’ Kit would never get here.”

“Why? What happened?”

“You name it, it happened, Becky. Pirates chasin’ us, gettin’ thrown in jail, bein’ interrogated by short Thembrian colonels, a traffic jam. Man, what a humdinger of a day!”

Rebecca smiled wryly. "Tell me about it, Baloo. Start at the beginning. Did you deliver the cargo?”

“Right on time, boss lady. No problemo about that. Got the receipt right here.” He patted his shirt pocket. “Ya remember Colonel - I-ain’t-short-yer-too-tall - Spigot?”

Rebecca frowned. “Unfortunately. How could I forget someone who tried to have me shot then hung for a stupid scheme you cooked up, flyboy?” She poked an indignant finger at his chest. “Just to get your paycheck a day early, I almost got killed.”

“Yeah, Thembrians love their executions.”

Softly, Rebecca said, “If he had been successful, we wouldn’t be here. Cassie wouldn’t be here.” She lovingly stroked the baby’s cheek.

Baloo squeezed his wife’s arm reassuringly. “Easy, Becky, don’t get yer feathers in a knot over the past. Anyways, Spiggy got it into his short head that me an’ Kit were spies tryin’ ta destroy their flyin’ fish statue or somethin’ stupid like that. He threw us in jail and asked me a lotta dumb questions. We only got out ‘cause Kit bribed Dunder.”

“Way to go, Kit! He’s so resourceful.” Rebecca put Cassie over her shoulder and gently patted her on the back. “He’s getting so tall. I stood next to him yesterday and could almost look him directly in the eyes.”

“I miss his squeaky voice,” Baloo said wistfully, prompting a nod and a sad smile from Rebecca. “An’ Molly’s gettin’ big, too. I thought I was gonna deflate like a balloon the last time she hopped on my stomach. The only real little one we got now is this little one.”

Bwaaaaap! went the infant.

“Big burp for a little baby,” Baloo chuckled.

The bearess wiped the infant’s mouth with a soft cloth. Flashing her husband a teasing glance, she commented ruefully, “Another trait she inherited from you.”

“An’ on the way home, air pirates started chasin’ us, but I...”

“Let me guess - the Baloo Corkscrew?”

Baloo was pleasantly surprised. “Yeah, how’d ya know?”

“I know my husband,” Rebecca replied with a mischievous grin. She nudged him gently in the ribs and settled back in his arms with Cassie nestled in her arms. Baloo joined her in gazing down at their baby.

Suddenly, the door flew open. Kit and Molly skidded into the room, closely followed by Wildcat.

“Whew! Made it!” Kit gasped.

Molly giggled. “We gave the nurse the slip.”

“And almost slipped on the floor,” added Wildcat, waving his arms wildly to illustrate his point. “It was, like, whoa, look out!”

“Are ya kids s’posed ta be here?” Baloo asked with mock sternness.

“We wanted to see the baby,” Molly said quietly. “Please, Daddy?” She shot him her best wide-eyed puppy-dog look.

“Wildcat figured since grown-ups were big, they had more germs than smaller kids,” Kit explained as he quietly closed the door. “And if grown-ups with their big germs were allowed back here, we kids should be, too.”

Rebecca laughed softly, then flinched at the pain that laughing inflicted. “Oddly enough, it makes sense. Okay, kids, since you’re here, you might as well say hello.”

Molly raced across the room and pounced on the bed,peering down at the baby eagerly. “Hi, I’m your big sister Molly. We’re gonna share a room when you get home. Won’t that be fun? But ya hafta promise not to touch my toys. Can I hold her, Mommy?”

“Sit in the chair and Daddy will help you. You, too, Kit.”

The two cubs squeezed into the chair beside the bed. Baloo laid Cassie in Molly’s arms with the following instructions: “Now, her neck muscles ain’ strong enough ta support her little head, so ya hafta hold her head for her. Got her, Button-nose?”

“Yep, Daddy.”

“And be extremely careful with the top of her head. Don’t bump it. She’ll have a soft spot there until her bones grow,” Rebecca added. Every muscle in her body was taut, ready to catch her baby at a moment’s notice.

“My arm’s falling asleep!” Molly exclaimed after a few minutes. “Wanna hold her, Kit?”

“Um...sure,” the boy said tentatively, afraid that the fragile-looking baby would break if he touched her.

Baloo shifted her over into Kit’s arms. Fragile-looking Cassie screamed bloody murder.

“Sorry! Sorry! Papa Bear, take her!” Kit said. He cast his eyes to the floor in disappointment. “Guess she doesn’t like me,” he murmured to Molly.

“What?” Molly removed her hands from her ears.

Meanwhile, Baloo had given the baby to her mother. Patting Cassie on the back, the infant let out a huge burp.

“Excuse you!” said Molly.

“Been drinking soda pop, Cassie-cat?” Wildcat asked. “Do you like root beer or orange or cherry better? I’m more of a cherry soda kind of guy.”

“Another nickname,” Rebecca murmured, kissing the infant’s cheek. “You’re officially part of our family, Cassandra. A true blue von Bruinwald.”

“Now she’s got that outta her system, why doncha take another whack at it Li’l Britches?” Baloo once again placed Cassie into Kit’s arms.

This time, the baby studied Kit’s face and grasped a fistful of his shirt. He beamed down at her. “Hey there, little, little sis. You’re sure a cutie. When can you come home?”

“Day after tomorrow, sweetie,” replied Rebecca, yawning. She smiled at the pretty tableau: Kit and Molly bent adoringly over their new sister.

“Penny for yer thoughts, Beckers,” Baloo whispered in her ear.

“I wish I had a camera.” She bobbed her head towards her children. “They’re simply taken with her.”

From his overalls pocket, Wildcat produced a camera. “Will this do, Ree-becca?”

“Will you take the kids’ picture, please, Wildcat?”

“Okey-dokey. Say ‘peas’!” Wildcat said, focusing the lens.

“Peas!” Kit and Molly chirped, grinning widely.

The camera flashed, causing everyone to see spots.

“Wildcat’s turn to hold Cassie,” Molly said.

The mechanic’s eyes lit up when the newborn was placed in his arms. “Happy birthday to you,” he sang, slightly off-key. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, little Cassie-cat. Happy birthday to youuuuuu! And happy New Year!”

The doorknob rattled.

“Uh-oh!” Kit cried. He and Molly dove under the bed.

The nurse appeared, stating, “Visiting hours are over.”

Baloo surreptitiously kicked Kit’s baseball cap under the bed. “Aw, do I hafta go so soon? Can’t I hold her one more time?”

“Yes, sir,” the nurse consented with a smile.

“Bye, Li’l Lassie Cassie. Daddy’ll come see ya tomorrow, Cupcake.” He cuddled the baby close and smooched her tiny nose before handing her to the nurse.

When the door clicked shut, the cubs crawled out from under the bed and Kit adjusted his cap.

“Come kiss me goodnight,” Rebecca said, holding her arms out to her children.

“Night, Mommy.”

“Night, Mom.”

The bearess kissed both children, saying, “I love you, Kit. I love you, Molly. Be good for Daddy. Kit, the documents for tomorrow’s Super Super Glue shipment are in my out-box, all signed, sealed, just needs to be delivered. Promptly.” She cast a pointed look at her husband.

“Count on us to stick to the schedule, Beckers.” The big bear chuckled to himself over the bad pun.

Rebecca and Kit shared a weak smile, groaning.

“See you in a couple of days, Mom.” Kit waved from the door. “Ready, sis?”

“Pull chocks, big brother.” She gave him a thumbs-up.

With that, the cubs snuck down the hall under the noses of the unsuspecting and unobservant hospital staff.

Wildcat squeezed Rebecca’s hand with an unusually perceptive smile, and he too walked out of the room and promptly went in the wrong direction.

“Wildcat, this way!” Kit hissed.

Baloo gathered his wife in his arms. “I’ll pop in tomorrow afternoon after the cargo run. Get lotsa shut-eye. You deserve it. You did a bang-up job.”

“I feel banged up, almost as if a truck had hit me,” she joked with a fatigued smile, too worn-out to return his hug. “But it’s difficult to fall asleep. It’s so quiet here.”

As if to disprove her statement, a dinner cart went rattling down the hallway.

Rebecca rested her head on Baloo’s chest and closed her eyes. Her voice grew softer with every syllable as she whispered, “You’re not...snoring...in...my...ear.” And she was asleep.

Baloo settled her back on the pillow and drew the blanket up to her chin. “Sleep tight, my darlin’ Becky.” He kissed her on the cheek and forehead lightly and tiptoed to the door. Before flipping off the light, he regarded her sleeping form for a second, smiling. Then, he strolled down the hall to the waiting room.

“Can we go home now, Daddy? This place is boring, it smells funny, and I’m hungry,” Molly whined.

Baloo boosted her to his shoulders. “Whattaya say we eat out tonight, kids? This bear feels like celebratin’.”

Flo’s Diner

A half an hour later, Baloo, Wildcat, Kit, and Molly occupied a booth at Flo’s Diner in downtown Cape Suzette. Flo’s Diner was a little hole-in-the-wall place. It was longer than it was wider with two rows of booths divided by a narrow aisle. The kitchen, separated from the eating area by a makeshift plywood partition, ran down the length of one wall. Despite its shabby appearance, this diner served some of the best and fastest prepared fast-food in Cape Suzette.

“A coupla days, then we can get everything back ta normal,” Baloo said jovially, slurping his tapioca pudding.

Kit, seated diagonally across the table from the big bear, laughed. “It won’t be quite the same with Cassie crying in the middle of the night.”

The exuberant smile fell from the pilot’s face. “Forgot about that.”

Unexpectedly, Molly, seated beside Baloo, said soberly, “Daddy, do you love Cassie more than Kit and me?”

Baloo almost spit out his pudding. “No way, José! What put such a crazy idea in yer pretty little head, Muffin?” He cupped her quivering chin in his palm and tilted her sad-looking countenance up towards him.

“I...I...I...thought since Cassie’s your real daughter and...and we’re...just your adopted kids that you...you...” she stammered, tears swimming in her earnest brown eyes.

Baloo thought seriously for a moment on the best way to answer. “Does yer mom love you more’n Kit, because you’re her real daughter an’ he’s her adopted son?”

“No,” the eight-year-old sniffled, burying her face in her father’s shirt.

“It’s the same thing, sweetie.” Baloo hugged her tightly. “Now, turn that frown upside-down, Molly! We’re havin’ a party here for yer sister.”

Wiping her eyes with her napkin, Molly giggled at the funny face that Kit made at her across the table.

Between bites of a jellybean omelet, Wildcat said, “Wouldn’t it make more sense to have a party for Cassie when she’s here?”

“You mean like a welcome home party, Wildcat?” Kit said, taking a sip of his chocolate milkshake.

“Yeah, just to say, ‘Hey, how are ya doing?’ and ‘Here’s where we live and where you live’ and ‘Here’s the refrigerator if you get hungry, man’.”

“Daddy?” Molly said, her forehead creased in thought as she spooned a bite of Frosty Pep into her mouth.

“Yeah?” Baloo mumbled, intent on wolfing down his dessert.

“Of course, she isn’t a man,” Wildcat said to himself. “She’s a little, tiny-winy, itsy-bitsy, teensy-weensy girl.”

“Where do babies come from?” Molly asked innocently.

This time, Baloo did spit out his pudding. It sprayed all over Wildcat’s face.

“Was it supposed to rain today?” the mechanic wondered, looking up at the ceiling.

Napkin in hand, Kit assisted Wildcat in cleaning up.

Baloo choked out, “Oh...hey...well...uh, about that party, Wildcat. Great idea! Super idea! We’ll hafta plan a coupla things. Get some food an’ gifts.”

But Molly wasn’t to be deterred that easily. “Did Cassie come from Mommy’s tummy?”

“Yeah,” Baloo mumbled, hoping that Molly would stop there. His face turned bright red.

“How did she get in there?”

“Um...well...Kit, what were you sayin’ earlier about Boang’s new plane?” He kicked the boy under the table and his look clearly said, ‘play along’.

“About the wingspan modifications?”

“What about ‘em?” Baloo said, kicking Kit again.

Kit grinned. He was used to getting his Papa Bear out of jams, but he wished that Baloo wouldn’t kick so hard. “From what I read in Flyboy Magazine...”

Wildcat interjected with, “I can tell you where babies come from.”

“You can?” Molly sat up straighter, all ears.

“First of all, there’s, like, a white stork who zooms around way up high in the sky. Eeerr, honk, honk. And he dives into a cabbage patch and picks the biggest pumpkin that he can find. He goes knock, knock. It pops open and, oh, boy! - or girl! - a baby comes out. The stork puts the baby into a glass slipper and flies aaaaaallll over looking for the baby’s mommy and daddy. When he finds them, he puts a twinkle in the daddy’s eye and puts the baby in the mommy’s tummy. After a long, long time, the baby wants to come out of its mommy’s tummy, ‘cause there’s a big, wide world to explore. The mommy goes to the doctor, and the doctor says, ‘abra cadabra’ and poof! The baby appears in his black bag. And that’s it.”

Baloo and Kit had to use all of their self-control to keep from guffawing.

Trusting Molly accepted the story without a single thought. “Oh...so that’s how it works. I gotta go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll take you, Molly.” Kit slid out of the booth, took his sister by the hand, and walked her to the bathroom in the rear of the diner.

“Whew!” Baloo sighed, clapping the mechanic on the shoulder. “Thanks for savin’ my bacon, Wildcat.”

“I did? But you went chomp, chomp, gulp, and the bacon went bye-bye.” Wildcat stared at the pilot in confusion.

Baloo smacked his forehead. “Never mind.”

Higher for Hire
Two Days Later

“Hurry, Wildcat! Mommy and Cassie will be here any second,” Molly said to the mechanic, who was stringing a banner reading WELCOME HOME across the ceiling of the office/living room.

On the other side of the room, Kit stepped back to admire his handiwork. He had arranged a bunch of helium-filled balloons and a bouquet of flowers around the pile of presents on the desk.

Hearing the car pull up, Molly exclaimed, “They’re here!” and let go of the ladder she was holding to run to the window.

Losing his balance, Wildcat clutched desperately at the banner. “Whoa-oh-oh!”

Kit lunged for the swaying ladder and steadied it.

A dizzy Wildcat slowly descended the ladder, murmuring, “I wanna ride the bumper cars next.”

“Surprise! Surprise!” the cubs shouted as Rebecca holding a sleeping Cassie stepped through the door.

“Merry Christmas!” added Wildcat cheerfully.

“My goodness! What’s all this?” Rebecca’s twinkling eyes traveled from the cub’s beaming faces to the slightly crooked banner to the presents on her desk.

“A little somethin’ we cooked up for you an’ Cassie,” Baloo replied, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Welcome home, honey.”

“It was Wildcat’s idea,” Molly piped up, hopping up and down with excitement. “When can we eat the cake?”

“Whoa, feather yer props, Button-nose. Let yer mama get in the door first.”

Rebecca laid the slumbering Cassie in the bassinet beside her desk. Everyone gathered around it.

Baloo looked down at the baby and then over at his wife. One question burned in his mind. “Now whatta we do?”

“Eat cake!” Molly shouted.

“Shh...” Rebecca admonished quietly, putting a finger to her lips. “Don’t wake the baby.”

“Sorry, Mommy. Let’s eat cake,” Molly whispered.

A few minutes later, Kit remarked, “Too bad Cassie can’t eat any of her own birthday cake.” He dug into his second piece. “It’s really good.”

“More for us,” Molly said happily, licking pink frosting off her lips with her pink tongue.

Baloo glanced across the table at Rebecca, who was picking at her cake. She’d barely tasted a morsel. “Whattsa matter, Beckers?”

“I’m not very hungry,” she said quietly. All she wanted to do was take a nap, but work - housework and paperwork - loomed in the back of her mind. She had a lot of catching up to do.

“Ya wanna open presents instead?” he asked gently.

“Okay.” She flashed him a tired smile.

The group trooped into the office and clustered around Rebecca seated at the desk.

“This one’s from Wildcat.” Rebecca tore off the newspaper to reveal a mobile with miniature yellow airplanes and blue clouds. “Oh, it’s lovely, Wildcat. Thank you.”

“Push the button on top, Ree-becca.”

A tinkling lullaby emanated from a little speaker box on top of the mobile. The airplanes and clouds revolved around a bright orange sun.

“It’s just beautiful! How do you do that, Wildcat?”

He shrugged. “Comes and goes,” was his enigmatical answer. Whistling, he whipped a screwdriver from one of his bottomless pockets and began installing the mobile over the bassinet.

Molly eagerly plopped a light, lumpy package into her mother’s lap. “Open this one next. It’s from me and Kit.”

Inside the wrapping paper was a white, fuzzy stuffed bear with a pink ribbon tied around its neck.

“Shake it. It rattles,” Kit said. “And the flowers are for you, Mom. Those are from everybody.”

“How thoughtful, kids. She’s going to love the bear, I love the flowers,” Rebecca pulled her older children into her arms, “and I love both of you.”

“It’s bigger’n she is,” Baloo said, propping the teddy bear in a corner of the bassinet.

“This one must be from her daddy,” Rebecca said, picking up the last package. Inside was a tiny pink romper with the words ‘Daddy’s Little Angel’ on the front.

“Oh, Baloo, it’s adorable!” Rebecca gushed.

“Cute, Papa Bear.” Kit playfully nudged his father in the stomach with his elbow, causing Baloo’s cheeks to turn the same shade as the romper.

Molly stared at the white lettering on the romper, frowning. “I thought I was your little angel, Daddy.”

“Yer my big little angel now, Pigtails.”

Molly wasn’t satisfied with that answer. She fixed her skeptical gaze on her father, but he wasn’t paying attention to her. In fact, he was staring at Cassie.

In her bassinet, Cassie coughed and spit up. Baloo, Rebecca, Wildcat, and Kit immediately leaned over the infant, exclaiming, “How cute!”

However Molly didn’t see what was so cute about it. Screwing up her nose, she cried indignantly, “She threw up! That’s yucky!” Somehow, something had changed and Molly didn’t like it one bit!

End of part 2

Baby Baloos
Part 3

Louie’s Place
One Week Later

A soft, warm rain was falling when the Sea Ducklanded in front of Louie’s and taxied up to the docks. After the Superflight 100 engines stopped, the cockpit door opened and Baloo and Kit disembarked.

“Man, Kit, deliverin’ bananas to the Banana Republic sure works up a thirst.” The large grey bear stuck out his tongue to catch a few raindrops.

“And an appetite,” Kit added. Since his growth spurt had begun, the fourteen-year-old was constantly hungry.

Pushing open the door, Baloo growled, “Dang Becky an’ her diet. A Krakatoa Special would really hit the spot.”

“Go ahead and eat one. How’s she ever gonna know?”

“She knows! Somehow yer mama can sense if I’ve been within a hundred miles of a single chip - chocolate or potato.”

“How’s the new big daddy?” Louie asked jovially from behind the bar.

“Fantabulous, innkeeper, but,” Baloo yawned, heavily plopping down on a bar stool, “I could do with a few more ‘zzzs’.”

“Cassie’s two o’clock feedings,” Kit clarified, hopping on a bar stool and plunking down fifty cents. “Can I have a Mango Shake, Louie? Extra thick.”

“Comin’ right up, navigator.” The big ape slung ice cream, milk, and chunks of fresh mango into a canister, popped the lid on, and vigorously shook it in time to his scat singing. “Do we do bop bwa bwa bo oh bo...” He stuck a straw in the shake and put it on the bar in front of Kit. “What’s yer pleasure, cuz?”

As he eyed his son’s shake, Baloo’s stomach rumbled, but he said, “Uh...water an’ leave the pitcher.”

Louie stared at the big bear in amazement for a second. He cleaned out his right ear with his index finger. “Did I hear ya right? Water - as in no artificial colors or flavors!”

“Yeah, water. W-O...however ya spell it. The stuff that comes outta the tap.”

“O...kay. The customer’s always right.” He poured a glass of ice water and set it in front of Baloo, then he poured one for himself. They clinked their glasses together. “Cheers.”

"You must be really outta it to order water, Baloo."

"It ain't that. Becky put me on this stupid diet." Baloo drained the glass in a few gulps and wiped his mouth with his palm.

"Well, there's goes half of my business," Louie laughed.

“But I am beat! Haven't got a decent night's sleep all week. I’m surprised ya can’t hear Cassie all the way out here, Louie. Man, oh, man, that little gal’s got a serious set of lungs on her!” After digging in his shirt pocket, he produced a plastic picture holder. “Wanna see some shots of my baby?” He let it unfold until it trailed, one hundred pictures at least, to the floor. “Gather ‘round, boys, don’t be shy.”

The two other pilots in the place mumbled excuses and hurried outside, their food half-finished.

Louie began backing away from the bar. “They must have some real urgent business to attend to, an’ speakin’ of urgent business, I got that...thing...in the back...real important...can’t let it go for a second longer...”

He thought he was home free until Baloo grabbed him by the arm, saying excitedly, “Ya gotta see these, cuz!”

“Aw, geez...I mean, oh, great,” Louie said with a forced smile.

Kit, slurping on his shake, made himself comfortable. This was going to take a while. Cassie had been Baloo’s favorite ‘toy’ for the past week. He wondered when the novelty was going to wear off.

Baloo proudly displayed picture after picture of Cassie, most of which were only slightly different. “Here she is nappin’. An’ ain’t this cute? She’s sleepin’. The Sandman’s visitin’ her in this one. An’ it’s beddy-bye for Cassie here. There’s the teddy bear that Kit an’ Molly got her beside her there. In this shot, she’s wearin’ the outfit I got her. It hangs off her now, but, man, she’s growin’. Gets bigger every day.”

Louie laughed, pointing to a photograph of Baloo in the hammock, Cassie on his chest. The big bear had a wide grin on his face. “Look at proud papa! Ha, ha, fuzzy! She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“You better believe it. Dig this one where’s she’s snoozin’ on my lap.”

“She’s not the only one snoozin’,” Louie chuckled.

“This is one of my favs. All three kids at the hospital on Cassie’s B-day. Becky’s thinkin’ of gettin’ that one blown up an’ framed. Speakin’ of Beckers, here’s one of her an’ Cassie. Ain’t they a purdy pair?”

Thirty minutes later...

“This here’s the last one.”

Louie, chin wearily propped in his hands and a glassy look in his eyes, murmured a thankful, “Hallelujah!”

“She’s lookin’ straight at the camera. Get a load of those bee-you-ti-ful big brown eyes.” Baloo began folding the picture holder back up. “Wanna do another run-through?”

The big ape stifled a yawn behind a white towel. “Maybe some other time, cuz.”

“Since I’m here, ya might as well look at ‘em again.” Baloo opened it to the first picture.

A petrified expression appeared on Louie’s face almost as if he had been shoved into a barrel full of anchovies. “Well, ya really don’t hafta...save ‘em for some other sucker...uh, I mean lucky person.”

With a covert wink at Louie, Kit made a big production of checking his watch. “Wow! Oh, boy! Gee whiz! Look at the time, Papa Bear. We need to get home to Mom and Molly and Cassie.”

Being towed out of the nightclub by his son, Baloo threw over his shoulder, “I’ll bring ya some new pics next time, pal. I took four more rolls a coupla days ago.”

Louie smiled tightly. “Can’t wait, Baloo.” After the door swung shut, his chin slipped from his hands, landing with a ‘thump’ on the bar. “More shots? Shoot me now!”

Meanwhile
Higher for Hire

Molly, garbed as Danger Woman, scowled with all her might at Cassie in her bassinet. In the eight-year-old’s opinion, the baby was a usurper, trying to take her place and doing a wonderful job of it. “I don’t like you,” she whispered, glancing over at her mother to see if she had overheard.

Rebecca continued to rummage through the filing cabinet.

“Everybody likes you better than me. Daddy and Mommy and Kit and even Wildcat. Piggy baby! Hogging Mom and Daddy. I never get to sit on their laps anymore, ‘cause you’re always there.”

Cassie yawned and her eyelids drooped.

Molly prodded the baby none-too-gently in the chest, causing the startled infant to open her eyes. “You listen when your big sister tells you something, kid! Know what? I don’t think you’re as stupid as you look. You know what you’re doing. Just wait ‘til you get bigger. Then you won’t be so cute.”

“Having a nice chat with Cassie?” Rebecca asked as she sidled past the bassinet with an armful of folders.

“Yes, Mommy. Danger Woman’s having a nice chat with her,” Molly said in a sing-song voice, smiling innocently. As soon as Rebecca’s back was turned, she glowered at the baby. “But I’m not!”

“Want to hold her, Molly? You don’t get to hold her very much.”

Molly stuck her tongue out at the infant before replying with a resigned sigh, “If I hafta, I’ll hold her.”

“Go sit down, Pumpkin.”

As if she was going to her own execution, Molly trudged to the easy chair and sat down. Rebecca propped a pillow under Molly’s left arm and handed the baby to her.

“Oh, isn’t she cute, Molly, with her little curls?” Rebecca adjusted the violet bow in Cassie’s hair. “Aren’t they darling?”

“Yeah, yeah...” Molly muttered after her mother returned to her desk. She was beginning to hate the word ‘cute’. A trillion times a day, everyone - even total strangers - said that Cassie was cute. Cute, cute, cute. Next time someone says ‘cute’ , I’m gonna scream! “You’re not that cute. You’re loud and smelly and messy - stuff that Mom hates. How come she likes you so much?”

Hearing Molly’s low, scornful grumbling, Rebecca looked up from her paperwork. She noticed that Molly was frowning at Cassie. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nuthin’,” Molly spat. Sotto voce, she said, “Everything’s perfect if you’re Cassie.”

“Does she need to be changed?”

“No,” Molly said brusquely. Sorrowful tears welled up in her eyes.

“Then what’s wrong, Molly?” Rebecca crossed the room and perched on the arm of the chair. She gently brushed a hand through Molly’s golden hair. “Come on, you can tell Mommy.”

Molly opened her mouth to speak and...

“Hi-ho, everybody!” Baloo burst through the door, followed by Kit. “It’s finally stopped rainin’.”

“Dinner ready, Mom? I’m starving.” He hurried up to the bathroom.

“Almost, Kit.”

When her father approached her, Molly’s eyes lit up. Someone was going to pay attention to her after all. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey, Button-nose,” he said absently. Baloo scooped Cassie up in his arms. “How’s Daddy’s little cutie pie? Man, yer cute!”

Molly let out a stifled shriek and ran outside.

“Great, Baloo. Just great,” Rebecca retorted, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“What’d I do wrong now, Becky?”

Rebecca threw up her hands in exasperation. “You did everything wrong!”

“What else is new?” Baloo muttered sullenly. “Just got home an’ already she’s breathin’ down my neck. ‘Course that ain’t new either.”

She sighed. “I’m not breathing down your neck. I think Molly’s jealous of Cassie.”

“Why? Who could be jealous of this little sweetheart?” He repeatedly smooched Cassie’s round cheeks.

“Engage the brain, flyboy. How would you feel if someone took your place as the littlest?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever been this little, Beckers,” Baloo chuckled, “even when I was little.”

Rebecca peered out the window at her daughter. Molly stood on the edge of the seawall, stormily hurling stones into the harbor. “This is all my fault. I should have realized sooner...if only I had paid more attention to Molly.” She opened the window and was going to call her daughter in to have a little chat when...

Wildcat happened along, whistling. “Hey, Molly.”

“Hi,” Molly said quietly. SPLASH!

Rebecca anxiously watched and listened from the window, hoping that Wildcat could get through to Molly when she couldn’t. In his own simple way, the mechanic had a special rapport with her daughter.

“Playing torpedo, Mollycat?” Wildcat asked amiably, setting down his toolbox. He noticed her attire. “Oops, sorry, Danger Woman.”

“No.” SPLASH!

“Hey, you sunk my battleship!” laughed Wildcat, clapping his paws. “Evasive action! Abandon ship! Women and mechanics first.”

“Wildcat...” Molly said, not looking at him. SPLASH! “Do you think I’m cute?”

He rummaged around in his toolbox and pulled out a wrench. “Cute as a lollipop and twice as sweet.”

SPLASH! “Who do you like better - me or Cassie?” Molly spit out ‘Cassie’ almost as if it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“I like you both the same.”

“You’re the only one.” Molly hugged his legs, big tears welling up in her eyes. “Everyone else likes Cassie better, ‘cause she’s cuter.”

Wildcat thoughtfully patted her head. “Whoa. Time out. No one thinks that. Your mom and dad and brother and even your little sister love you lots and lots and lots and lots.”

“Yeah, right,” she said cynically. “No one pays any attention to me. It’s Cassie, Cassie, Cassie,” SPLASH! “all the time. If I ran away no one would even notice.”

“I would,”he said, frowning. He put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Staring at the rock in her hand, she asked, “Can I come live with you?”

Brightly, the mechanic said, “Okay, Mollycat. But you’ll hafta sleep in the hammock.”

“I don’t care,” she said moodily. SPLASH! “I like sleeping in Daddy’s hammock.”

“There’s probably not gonna be room for all of your toys unless I move that piles of doohickies and thingamabobs, but that’s where my mouse friend Earl lives. Don’t want him to be homeless.”

“Oh.” While she bent down to pick up another pebble, Molly pondered that. She didn’t want to leave any of her toys behind, and she especially didn’t want her little sister playing with them.

“I hope you like fish and horseradish and pickle sandwiches, ‘cause that’s what I’m having for dinner tonight.”

“Well...” She thought of the delicious-smelling chicken and dumplings that her mother was cooking and her resolve to run away from her family wavered. Looking over her shoulder at Higher for Hire, she remembered how neglected she had felt the past week. The grim, resolute expression returned to her face. “I like fish and pickles, but leave off the horseradish, please.” SPLASH!

Wildcat grinned. “Okey-dokey, then. We’ll move your stuff in right away. It’ll be fun having a roommate.”

“Wait, Wildcat!” She grabbed hold of his sleeve. Solemnly, Molly voiced something that had been rankling. “Before we start moving stuff, I got a question. How come they’re always saying, ‘Look at Cassie do this’ and ‘Look at Cassie do that’?”

“Because there’s not much she can do yet. She can’t play Danger Woman or help me fix an engine or mix up a batch of brownies with your mom or sit on your dad’s lap and steer the Sea Duck like you can.” Wildcat again searched through his toolbox. He retrieved a ball of twine and a nut. He threaded the twine through the nut and tied the other end to his wrench.

Molly’s eyes brightened at the thought. “Yeah, she can’t do anything.”

“She needs someone like her big sister to show her how to do those things.” Tongue protruding in concentration, he poked a jellybean into the center of the nut and cast it into the water with a soft ‘plop’.

“Yeah!” Dropping the stone that she held, the little girl hugged the lion fiercely. “Thanks, Wildcat.”

“Anytime.” His friendly smile turned to confusion. “Uh, for what?”

Molly pranced across the flagstone path, her Danger Woman ‘cape’ billowing out behind her.

“Hey, Mollycat, I thought you were moving in with me!” He reeled in his fish bait and examined it to make sure that the jellybean was still there. It was. He popped the orange jellybean out and inserted a red one, thinking maybe that fish preferred cherry.

“Maybe some other time.” She ran into Higher for Hire and right into her mother’s outstretched arms.

“I’m sorry, Pumpkin,” Rebecca said contritely, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek.

“What for?”

“For not paying attention to you. I want you to remember that no matter what happens, no matter how many brothers and sisters you have, I’ll always,always love you, Molly.”

“You promise?” Molly shot her mother a skeptical glance. From experience she knew that her mother didn’t always keep her promises.

“I promise.” Rebecca crossed her heart and gave Molly another kiss. “You were my very first baby, and you’ll always be my first baby; but I would really like my big girl to help me with this baby. Can you do that?”

The little girl nodded, feeling very grown-up all of a sudden. Her mother was asking her for help.

“And I want you to tell me when you’re feeling sad, okay?”

Molly smiled, hugging her mother tightly. “Okay, Mom.”

Kit wiped his damp hands on his shirt as he bounded down the stairs. “What’s for dinner? It smells great!”

“Chicken and dumplings,” Rebecca and Molly replied simultaneously. As if they were sharing a secret, their eyes met and they giggled.

“Mmm-mmm! My fav-o-rite,” Baloo said, laying Cassie in her bassinet.

“If you can eat it, it’s your favorite, Baloo.” Rebecca laughed. Standing on tiptoe, she murmured in his ear, “Remind me to give Wildcat a raise,” prompting a slightly perplexed look from the big bear.

While her parents and brother headed into the kitchen, Molly stayed behind. She leaned over the bassinet. “I don’tdon’t like you anymore. I’m gonna show you how to do tons of neat stuff.” She gently touched one of the infant’s curls and smiled down at her. “I guess you’re even kinda...cute.” With a light heart, Molly skipped into the kitchen, saying, “Leave some for me, Kit!”

End of part 3