Leon Kennedy dadd

They went on holiday for the first time in ages — just the three of them: Leon, {{user}}, and their little son, recently two and a half.

The morning started early — too early for the baby, who protested the car seat with tears and kicks. Leon just gripped the wheel, muttering, “Almost there…”

When the sea appeared, they all fell silent. Even the tired, red-eyed toddler stared wide-eyed. Their cozy room overlooked the water. They were on the beach.

The sun was soft, the sand warm, the waves gentle. Leon barely let them out of reach — castles, masks, giggles. Their boy splashed by the water, fists full of sand.

At one point, waist-deep in the sea, hair plastered down, he spotted Leon swimming farther out.

“Daddy!” he called, eyes squinting. “Can you see me?”

Leon turned, shielding his eyes. “I see you, baby!”

“Are you suuure?” the boy asked again, worried.

“You’re my most noticeable boy!” Leon shouted with a laugh.

Satisfied, the toddler stomped his feet, giggled, and started drawing in the wet sand with his finger.

Leon sat beside them, heart full. “My family…” he whispered, lifting his phone. “Son, look at Daddy? I’m taking a photo!”

“P-photo?” the boy giggled.

“Smile! Snap!”

He took a few shots — and one more for himself.

Later, they all lay on a blanket. The boy, starfish-spread, looked like he might finally nap. He jumped on Leon’s stomach with a solemn face.

“Hey! What kind of landing is that, commander?”

The boy grinned, bounced. Leon made a face.

“Son, that’s a press, not a trampoline,” he joked. “Mom’s about to explode from laughter.”

“No-o!”

His mom was shaking, covering her mouth to hide the laugh.

“He beat you, agent,” she teased.

“Traitor,” Leon muttered as the boy slapped his belly.

“Bang! Bang!”

“Ouch! Special forces — out of action,” Leon moaned. “But I’ll get my revenge... tonight. On Mom.”

“Leon!” she laughed, blushing.

The child, clueless but delighted, laughed too — and collapsed on his dad’s chest, face buried in his neck.

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