A very slight little fic, nearly weightless. I have no less than three major fics brewing for Phoenix Wright, and yet when I sat down at my word processor, this is what came out, instead, as the idea sprang into my mind fully formed and completely captivated me.
When I was a child, I had this very conversation with my mother a thousand times.

Warnings:
Very minor spoilers for Miles Edgeworth's backstory.
Unnecessarily cute.

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      Gregory Edgeworth glanced at the rearview mirror. His son Miles had drawn up his knees and clapped his hands over his ears, a pained expression on his serious little face. Gregory couldn't help but smile. "I like to sing," he said, switching his gaze back to the road ahead and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'll tell you once more--"

      "Da-aaaddy!" Miles moaned.

      Gregory sang right over him. "--before I get off the floor--"

      "Daddy please stop singing!"

      "--don't bring me do-own!" he finished with a flourish.

      Silence from the back seat. Gregory checked the rearview mirror again. Miles was an outraged little ball in the back seat, only the fringe of his bangs visible over his drawn-up knees, his thoroughly offended elbows poking out. It was all Gregory could do not to laugh.

      "Are you done?" Miles demanded to know after fifteen seconds or so, loosening his vise-like grip on his ears.

      "One of these days you're gonna get it right!" Gregory promptly sang at the top of his lungs.

      Miles yowled in outrage and slammed his hands back down. "Daddy stop that it's embarrassing," he yelled, trying to drown out his father.

      "Miles, don't yell," Gregory said. "And how can it be embarrassing? No one can hear me but you."

      "It's still embarrassing!" Miles insisted. "And I don't like it."

      "I'm not that bad a singer, am I?" Gregory said, fighting back a smile. Teasing Miles had always been so easy.

      "Yes!" Miles said, utterly and sincerely offended. "It's awful, Daddy, please don't sing."

      Gregory paused the discussion long enough to change lanes and take the courthouse exit. "Too bad, kiddo," he said once that was done. "You got me shakin' got me runnin' away--"

      Miles wailed in horror from the back seat. "Daddy please don't sing Daddy please!"

      "Well," Gregory said, flicking on the turn signal and turning into the courthouse garage, "since you asked so nicely," and he flipped off the radio just as the DJ came on. Miles tentatively let his hands drop to fiddle with his seatbelt and eventually put his feet back down on the floor.

      No longer bothering to fight back his smile Gregory drove the car up to the second level and found himself a spot to park in. It was only when Miles moaned "Daddy!" from the back seat that he realized he was humming the song to fill the silence.

      "Sorry," he called over his shoulder, laughing.

      "I hate that song," Miles muttered. "I hate it when you sing, Daddy. It's horrible."

      "I guess you're just going to have to learn to deal with it. Come on, kiddo, out," Gregory said, putting the car in park and turning it off. Miles undid his seatbelt and slid gingerly out of the car, pushing his door gently shut with both hands. "We all set?" he asked, and Miles nodded, scowling. "Come on, then, we don't want to be late, do we?"

      "No, Daddy," Miles said sulkily, and took his father's hand, watching him suspiciously for any signs of potential singing long after they'd gotten out of the car and into the elevator.

Apparently there are stories about Billy Joel's daughter pulling the pained 'Daddy, please don't sing' routine in public. Which, I mean, points for irony.

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