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Reeling in the Years	By : Flagg1991 Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 5080 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House or its characters and I am not profiting from this story in any way.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Lyrics to We're Gonna Have to Slap the Dirty Little Jap by Lucky Millinder (1942)
12:00pm
Leni's heart was happy. Lynn was home and she was almost done with the baby's coming home outfit. It took her a long time to do because she didn't know what to make. It would have been easier if she knew whether it was a boy or a girl.
After a couple weeks of thinking really hard (and giving herself a bad headache that lasted two days) it came to her: Red and green! It was perfect because little Bobby Jr. or Maria or Patricia was going to be a Christmas baby. Presently, she sat her needles aside and looked down at it with an appreciative nod: On the chest was a cute little Santa face with rosy cheeks and closed eyes and underneath it said: HAPPY CHRISTMAS, MERRY NEW YEARS'. She read it and frowned. Something wasn't right. She touched her chin and pouted as she tried to puzzle out what it was. She knew it was spelled right because she made extra sure by writing it down on a slip of paper, having copied it exactly from a card. Hm. It must not be that important. It's not like she forgot to add a head hole like she did with the last one. That surprised her because she never forgot stuff like that. Lately, though, she was forgetting a lot of stuff and feeling extra ditzy: Just last night she was using the bathroom, and when she got up, she couldn't remember how to work the knob. Her mind just totally blanked for a minute.
She was mixing up her words more, too. The other day she was confiding in Lori about how it made her heart sad that she didn't have a license, and she said, "I'll never learn to drive a radio." It was a second before she realized her mistake, and she hoped Lori didn't notice.
That wasn't normal. Even for her.
Her frown deepened.
Something was wrong.
She stared down at the onesie, her eyes clouding over...then she smiled. That Santa was really cute. Little Bobby Jr. or Maria or Patricia would look adorable in it. Should she add a hood? It was really cold outside. She glanced over her shoulder at Lori, who had fallen asleep on her side. Adding a hood (that looked like a Santa hat, of course) wouldn't take more than a day.
Okay. She got more thread from her drawer and started, her nimble fingers moving with confident grace. She started to hum a tune she knew but couldn't place. She furrowed her brow and hummed very slowly, trying to figure out the words. Oh, Baby, It's Cold Outside. Yes it is. Very cold. Leni didn't like the cold. She wanted it warm. Lynn was in Arizona right now where it was always warm. Lucky.
Wait, no, he was home for Christmas. Well...he was usually out there. Leni was jealous. She was also jealous because Lincoln could drive and she couldn't. She wanted to take him fun places but now he was the one who took her to fun places, like the craft store. She liked the craft store. There was lots of fun stuff at the craft store. When she was there, she was like a kid in a craft shop. No, candy shop. Craft shop, that was funny. Good one, Leni.
Lori moaned behind her.
"You okay?" Leni asked and turned.
"This baby won't stop moving," Lori sighed.
"He or she is happy," Leni grinned, "he or she gets to meet his or her aunt Leni soon...and aunt Leni has groceries."
Lori's brow furrowed.
"Goodies, I mean," Leni said and smiled nervously. "I was thinking of groceries just now."
That was a lie. She wasn't. She turned away, embarrassed. "I have lots of goodies for little baby Bobby Jr. or Maria or Patricia. I'm almost done with the outfit, I just need to add a little hood that looks like a Santa hat."
Lori took a deep breath as the baby slid across her stomach. Calm down, please. Mommy's tired. That was another thing she hated about being pregnant: Constantly being tired. Big, bloated, hungry, achy, tired – how did Mom do this six times? That woman must be crazy.
Speaking of being constantly hungry, it was lunchtime, wasn't it?
At the mere thought of lunch, the baby did a flip, and she felt like she was losing her stomach. "Leni?"
"Yeah?" Leni asked without looking up from her knitting.
"Could you get me – and the baby – something to eat please?"
"Sure!" She sat her needles down and got up. Her back was sore and her butt hurt. How long had she been sitting here, anyway? "What do you guys want?"
Lori pouted. "Food."
Leni put her hands up. "What kind of food, silly?"
Lori said the first thing that popped into her mind. "A hamburger and French fries from Flip's." That sounded really good, actually. She could already taste the charred beef and crispy potatoes. Ahhhhh.
Leni went to the door and stuck her head out. "Lincy?"
"Yeah?" Lincoln called from downstairs.
"Your sister and her baby need a favor..."
Twenty minutes later, Lincoln and Ronnie Anne walked into Flip's. Flip was sitting on a stool behind the counter reading the paper, a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He looked up, and rolled his eyes. "You're both early – by three hours. Can't you tell time?"
"Trust me," Lincoln said and leaned against the counter, "we don't want to be here."
"Then why the hell are you bothering me?"
"One burger, one order of fries to go."
Flip snorted. "You don't get enough to eat when you're here?" He looked at Ronnie Anne. "I see you eating people's leftover fries off their plates."
Ronnie Anne blushed. "That happened one time."
"It's for Lori," Lincoln said, "the baby's hungry."
Flip laid the paper down and got up. "This makes three generations of Louds I've fed. Your mom and dad used to come in here. I ever tell you that? You and Miss Fry Thief '61 remind me of them."
Ronnie Anne's hand crept into Lincoln's. "I guess that means we have a long marriage ahead of us," she said.
"And six kids."
Her eyes widened. "No, no, no, not six. After seeing what your sister's going through, I don't even know if I want one."
Lincoln shrugged. "We can always get a dog."
"That's basically the same thing," she pointed out.
"Yeah, but they have a shorter shelf life."
"But you get attached," she replied.
A few minutes later, Flip came out with a cardboard container. "Alright, Loud, one burger and fries fresh out of the fryer. Your sister really should be eating better; the crap from this place will turn that kid into a mutant or something."
At home, Lincoln handed the container to Lori, who licked her lips. "Thanks, Linc."
"You're welcome," he said. "Flip says his food is crap and you shouldn't be eating it. Just so you know."
"Flip should mind his own business," Lori said.
1:30pm
On his days off, Lynn Loud Sr. liked to tinker in the garage. It was his space, after all, an oasis of solitude in the midst of chaos. One day he might build a birdhouse, and the next he might make half-hearted repairs to something that had been broken for ten years and would probably remain broken for another ten. It didn't matter what he did, really, as long as he had some alone time to do it in.
Today, he sat at the work bench, an old Philco tabletop radio turned to a big band and swing program at his left elbow; before him sat a wooden rocking crib, done except for sanding and staining. It took nearly six months of evenings, weekends, and the odd weekday, but it was almost finished and looked pretty nice to boot. He sat back and crossed his arms in an admiring posture. The baby would enjoy this thing. He wondered if he should hold off until they knew what it was: Its name would look real fine engraved along the side in loops and swirls.
He probably would. The sanding and staining wouldn't take very long – a single weekend, if that – and the engraving wouldn't either. His grandson or granddaughter would be rocking back and forth in no time.
It struck him – not for the first time – that he was going to be a grandfather, and he shook his head in amazement. He was forty-five years old. Was that a normal age to become a grandparent? It seemed that it must be, assuming you and your children both started early. He was twenty-four when Lori was born, which seemed on the older side to him, as his own mother was twenty when she had him. His grandparents – on both sides, actually – were older, though: His maternal grandfather served in the Michigan Brigade under General George Custer during the Civil War, fighting his way from Gettysburg to Appomattox Courthouse, where he personally watched General Lee surrender to General Grant. His paternal grandfather also fought in the war – on the other side, under Nathan Bedford Forrest. When he thought 'grandfather' or 'grandmother' he pictured a wizened face topped with snowy white hair – not a man in his forties who had barely begun to go gray, or a woman in her forties who was just as beautiful now as she was when she was sixteen.
Time is a fleeting thing, he thought. Before you know it, twenty years have gone by and you can't for the life of you figure out how. Coincidentally, a song was playing on the radio that Lynn remembered from the spring of 1942, when war fever spread like wildfire across the country:
We'll murder Hirohito, massacre that slob Benito
Hang 'em with that Schicklgruber when we're through it
We'll search the highest mountain for the tallest tree
To build us a hanging post for the evil three
We'll call in all our neighbors, let 'em know they're free
We're gonna have to slap the dirty little Jap.
That was almost twenty years ago. He and Rita had been married for three years and were living across town in an apartment block that no longer existed and Luna was a baby. In 1943, when Rita was pregnant with Luan, he was drafted by the army. It was difficult being away from home, but Hitler and the Japanese were a menace that, if left unchecked, would eventually come for his family: His was a righteous fight, and the righteous course of action is seldom the easiest. At first he was stationed in Detroit, and saw Rita nearly every day, but in 1944 they shipped him to England (she was pregnant with Lynn by that point). On June 6th, he stepped off of a landing craft on Omaha Beach and took a bullet to the knee. Some soldier, huh?
Speaking of knee, it ached dully. He rubbed it. It must be going to rain. Or snow.
As it turned out, it was neither.
1:55pm
Lynn Loud Jr. came into the living room from the kitchen just as Leni came down the stairs backwards, her hands out. "I'm fine," Lori said, coming down after. "Really, you don't need to do that."
"I don't want you to fall down and go boom," Leni said, "that would not be a good thing."
Lincoln was right: Lori was even bigger than she was at Thanksgiving. It looked like she was going to pop – literally pop – like a tick. Pressing a hand to her lower back, she waddled over to the couch and slowly lowered herself down next to Lincoln, who was sitting next to Ronnie Anne. What, does this girl live here now? Get lost, I wanna play ball with my little brother, sheesh.
Leni shoved in next to Lori and started flapping her hand and talking about goodies and babies clothes and whatever else. Lynn went over to the couch, leaned against the back, and hovered his face over Lori's shoulder, waiting for her to sense his presence. When she did, she started and turned. "What are you doing, you little twerp?" she asked.
He pinched her cheek. "Checking up on my little nephew."
"We don't know what gender it is!"
"It's a girl," Luan said, coming down the stairs.
Lincoln pointed at her over his shoulder. "Yep."
"I think it's gonna be a boy," Ronnie Anne said.
"Team Boy!" Lynn said and thrusted his hand out for Ronnie Anne to slap. She looked at it, then at him, and back to the TV. "Fine, bitch."
Lincoln started to open his mouth, but Lynn cried out as Luan wrenched his ear. "That's not nice, Lynn," she said, leaning in. "And it's gonna be a girl."
Lynn pulled away from his sister. "I'm telling you, it's gonna be a boy."
"No it's not, shut up," Lincoln said. "It's gonna be a girl."
Lynn grabbed Lincoln's cowlick and pulled. Apparently Lincy forgot who was boss.
Lincoln cried out. To Lynn's surprise, he grabbed his wrist and twisted, forcing him to let go. "You little bastard," Lynn growled.
"Knock it off!"
Everyone turned. Lynn Sr. stood in the archway to the kitchen. He was in his usual at-home attire: Brown pants and white undershirt. The straps of his suspenders hung down his legs.
"Lynn, don't think you're too old to have your mouth washed out," he said.
"Sorry, sir," Lynn said and bowed his head in a show of shame.
Dad came into the living room and dropped into his chair. "What are we arguing about this time?" he asked.
"About whether my baby's going to be a boy or a girl," Lori huffed. "I just wanted to watch TV and these savages find a reason to fight." She started to get up. She would just go back to –
Pop.
Splash.
Warm fluid gushed down her legs, and for a moment she thought she had peed herself...then it hit her, and her heart blasted. "Uhhh...I think my water just broke."
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Reeling in the Years