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It started innocently enough—one of those little quirks that Donna and Harvey thought was more cute than anything serious. Their home in White Plains had an oversized walk-in pantry, stocked like a miniature grocery store. Cereal in clear plastic containers lined up on one side. An assortment of snacks were stored in clear plastic containers on another shelf, with rows of pasta and sauces above, and kid-friendly treats in baskets on a lower shelf.
It didn’t take long for Jude, their energetic five-year-old with blond hair and wide hazel eyes like his mama’s, to discover the pantry’s treasures. At first, he would wander in, grab a granola bar or an apple, and happily munch away in the kitchen. Their mischievous two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Sloane, with her strawberry blonde curls and her big brown eyes that matched Harvey’s, on the other hand, followed her big brother’s lead, so it was only a matter of time before she joined in on the pantry raids.
The first time Harvey witnessed the pantry raid, he thought it was an adorable game, harmless.
It was a lazy Saturday morning. Harvey started to make himself and Donna their second cup of coffee; the house smelled faintly of maple syrup from breakfast, which they had finished about 30 minutes ago. Harvey was standing at the coffee bar in the kitchen, wearing his typical Saturday morning attire, a Yankees t-shirt and gray joggers. He ran a hand through his hair as he waited impatiently for the Nespresso machine to finish brewing, when he heard the rustling of plastic bags and the clinking of plastic containers colliding on the other side of the frosted glass pantry door.
Harvey’s first thought was that the puppies had locked themselves in the pantry again and were having a feast, but when he turned to walk towards the pantry door, both dogs were lying on the kitchen floor staring out the window of the French doors to the backyard, on squirrel patrol as Jude called it. Harvey raised a brow, if it's not the dogs—
Harvey reached for the pantry door, swinging it open, and there they were—Jude and Sloane. Jude stood in the pantry on his tippy toes, both arms wrapped around an economy-sized box of Goldfish crackers like it was the eighth wonder of the world, his hair sticking up like he wrestled with his pillow all night. Sloane sat beside Jude on the pantry floor, surrounded by her arrangement of snacks: granola bars, snack-sized bags of pretzels, applesauce pouches, and a sleeve of double-stuffed Oreos. She was clearly thrilled with her part of Operation: Pantry Raid , her curls sticking out in wild tufts, her eyes laser-focused on her loot. She didn’t even pretend to be innocent.
Harvey leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest, as he watched his kids in their snack glory, completely oblivious that their dad was watching them. “What’s this?”
“Breakfast,” Jude answered, chewing on Goldfish crackers, matter-of-factly.
Harvey looked over his shoulder at the Google Home display screen to check the time. “What do you call the waffles I made and that you ate 30 minutes ago?”
“First breakfast,” Jude said without missing a beat. “This is second breakfast.”
Sloane grinned through her mouthful of pretzels. “‘Nack!” she declared proudly.
“Uh huh.” Harvey arched his brow, lifting his chin. “And who said you could have that snack?”
Sloane pointed at Jude without hesitation. “Jude!”
Jude groaned, tilting his head back in frustration. “You’re not supposed to tell on me!”
Harvey fought a smirk, biting the inside of his cheek.
Donna was upstairs starting the laundry when she heard mumblings coming from the kitchen as she walked towards the staircase. She stood near the second-floor balcony upstairs, which overlooked the living room and part of the kitchen. She leaned over the banister, and her voice floated down to the first floor. “If that’s our children helping themselves to snacks again without asking, tell them they’re busted!”
Jude’s eyes widened, quickly putting the box of Goldfish crackers back on the shelf where he found them. Sloane didn’t even look up. She tore open the package of Oreos with surprising skill for a toddler and popped a whole cookie in her mouth. She grinned, tiny crumbs dotting her lips.
Again, Harvey tried to hold his laugh, but also braced himself for Sloane choking on the whole Oreo she just plopped in her mouth. “You’re lucky Mama’s upstairs,” he murmured before helping Sloane clean up the remnants of her snack loot. “Now, it's time to get out of the closet,” he said with a smirk, giving Sloane a little tap on her butt as she toddled out of the pantry following her brother, squealing in delight.
***
The Specter kids held their next raid three days later.
It was a Tuesday, and Donna was working from home; Harvey was back to teaching part-time at NYU. She was in the kitchen making lunch and finishing up a call, an AirPod in her left ear. She had a pot of water simmering for macaroni and cheese, the spiral kind, Jude swore tasted better than any restaurant, and slicing strawberries for Sloane, who had declared strawberries were princess fruit and that she needed to have them with every meal.
Jude and Sloane were in the living room, playing with the TV on in the background. They were supposed to be sprawled out on the rug with the puppies, coloring or playing some game they made up from their imagination, while she made lunch.
“Uh huh, no, I understand,” she said, pouring the pasta into the boiling water. Her eyes flicked towards the living room, Jude and Sloane were still on the floor playing. She turned towards the stove, giving the pasta a quick stir, then flipped the grilled cheese in the pan. “Okay, I’ll email you my revisions after I feed my two little monsters,” she said into her AirPod, smiling. “Talk soon.”
Donna still turned towards the stove, finished grilling the grilled cheese sandwich in the pan, and started the second sandwich. Then, she stirred the pasta in the pot before walking over to the fridge to grab juice boxes.
Thirty seconds, that’s all it took. When she turned around again, the living room was empty.
Donna raised a brow. “Jude?!” she called. “Sloane?!”
No answer. Silence. No giggles. No bouncing feet on the couch, no Mama, watch this!
Donna quickly turned off the stove, abandoning the lunch. When she turned to make her way towards the playroom, she heard the faintest scratch of claws and tiny giggles coming from the other side of the pantry door.
She didn’t even have to guess. “Oh, no—” she mumbled, tilting her head back, annoyed.
She walked towards the pantry door and pushed it open. There they were, the snack bandits, Jude, blond hair sticking up from where he had been lounging on the couch minutes earlier, and Sloane, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing with excitement, and their two 6-month-old golden retrievers, Duke and Genevieve, on the pantry floor with their crime scene of snacks.
Jude was halfway up the small step stool, reaching for a container of chocolate chip cookies. Sloane was sitting cross-legged on the floor, legs tucked under her, carefully unwrapping a sleeve of Ritz crackers. Flanking on both sides were Duke and Genevieve, their tails thumping happily against the floor.
“Dukie gets one cracker,” Sloane murmured to the puppy, sweetly, holding out the cracker for the puppy to take from her tiny toddler hand. “Andddd Vivi gets one cracker,” she said, doing the same for Genevieve. “Andddd I get two,” she stated matter-of-factly.
Donna leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “Well—this is interesting.”
Four heads popped up—two human, two caine—all of them wearing the same guilty, wide-eyed look.
Jude turned slowly, cookie container in hand. “Uh, oh—hi, Mama,” he murmured.
Donna stepped into the pantry doorway, arms still crossed. “What happened to playing in the living room until lunch was ready?”
“We are playing,” Jude said quickly, stepping down from the stool. “We were just—playing here .”
“In the pantry—with food.” Donna pointed out, raising a brow.
Sloane looked up, brown eyes wide and innocent, holding a cracker towards her mama. “Hi, Mama! ‘nack?” she said sweetly, as if this whole situation was completely normal.
Donna crouched down to Sloane’s level, Duke, and Genevieve, trotting up to her, expecting pets. “You know—lunch is almost ready.”
Sloane shrugged, acting completely innocent. “Dukie and Vivi want ‘nack. They hungry too.”
Donna raised a brow. “Duke and Genevieve are not allowed to eat people food. I was about five minutes from lunch being ready.”
Duke and Genevieve were oblivious to their tiny humans' guilt, and they wagged their tails harder. Duke let out a little puppy whuff .
Donna sighed and took in the scene once more—the chaos of the plastic containers filled with snacks scattered on the pantry floor, little fingers in bags, and the sheer audacity of them thinking they wouldn’t get caught—again.
Donna exhaled, shaking her head, standing back upright. “Alright, snack bandits—out,” she said, pointing to the kitchen.
“But—” Jude began to explain.
“Out,” she repeated, more firmly, though her tone still held the edge of amusement she couldn’t quite shake.
Jude padded out of the pantry into the kitchen. Duke and Genevieve followed.
Sloane hopped up, but not before grabbing a snack-sized pack of gummies from the shelf beside her, then looked at her mama with her wide puppy-like eyes that were so much like Harvey’s that it was hard for Donna to say no.
“For later?” Sloane tried, smashing the pack of gummies into her toddler-sized pocket.
“Nice try, missy,” Donna said, crouching, gently prying them from her grip. “Go find your brother,” she murmured as she ushered her daughter into the kitchen, shutting the pantry door behind her. Her mind caught between two thoughts: I can’t believe they did this again, and these are the moments I’m going to remember when they’re teenagers.
Donna walked back into the kitchen. Jude and Sloane were standing next to the kitchen island, waiting for her, while Duke and Genevieve ran around playing, oblivious again.
Donna met their gaze and padded towards them, crouching down to meet their eyes. “Listen—you don’t go into the pantry without asking first. That’s the rule. Got it?”
Both nodded rapidly.
Donna sighed. Brushing crumbs from Sloane’s cheek, then stood up, “Good. Now, I have to start lunch over. Unless you can’t survive that long, you can eat the cold sandwiches.”
Jude and Sloane scampered back into the living room, plopping back on the couch to finish the episode of Bluey that they had abandoned earlier.
***
Later that afternoon, Sloane was upstairs in her bedroom for her nap while Jude rested quietly in his room. Duke and Genevieve finally collapsed into fluffy heaps at the foot of the couch. Donna was curled up on the couch with a mug of tea, her laptop on her lap, finishing one last email before she shut her laptop for the day. The baby monitor placed on the coffee table displayed both Specter kids in their rooms when she heard Harvey’s footsteps coming from the garage into their mudroom. He tossed his keys onto the dish on the table in the mudroom and walked towards the living room.
“Hey,” he said, warmly, leaning down to kiss her lips, then sat next to her on the couch, eyeing the faint smirk on her lips. “What’s that look for?”
She let out a sigh that was equal parts amusement and exhaustion. She placed her mug and laptop on the coffee table before she continued. “ Your children.”
Harvey furrowed his brow. “ Our children. And I’m guessing by that tone it’s not cleaned up their toys or colored you a picture .”
She chuckled slightly. “No. Our children, the snack bandits, have struck again,” she said, her tone pointed.
“Again?! I just talked to them about their snack raids on Saturday,” he groaned, brushing his hands down his face.
“Yes, again,” Donna replied. “I turned my back for—maybe 30 seconds when I was making their lunch, and they decided it was the perfect window to sneak into the pantry. And they didn’t go alone—they brought two partners in crime.”
Harvey raised his brow. “Partners in crime?”
“Duke and Genevieve,” Donna said flatly, grinning slightly, tilting her head towards the two puppies still sleeping at the foot of the couch. “Sloane was feeding them crackers when I found them.”
Harvey let out a short laugh, then shook his head. “So you’re telling me that our five-year-old and two-and-a-half-year-old have turned to organized snacktime crime with our two golden retriever puppies?”
“Yep. Pretty much,” Donna said, reaching for her tea and taking a sip. “When I caught them mid-snack robbery. Sloane just said Hi, Mama. ‘nack? Like it was just another day of robbing the pantry. And Jude—I asked him what happened to playing in the living room until lunch was ready? He told me they were playing—just in the pantry, then Sloane claimed the puppies were hungry for snacks too.”
Harvey smirked. “That Jude of ours is going to be one hell of a lawyer one day,” he murmured. “Wrong, but solid defense strategy. And Sloane. I will be happy if we survive the teenage years with her.”
Donna gave him a pointed look. “Not the point, Harvey. You didn’t have to clean up after the robbery, crumbs everywhere.”
Harvey leaned back against the couch, his jaw tightening in mock seriousness, and grabbed his phone out of his pants’ pocket. “They’re raiding the pantry like a bunch of snack bandits, and talking to them clearly didn’t work. I’m ordering a childproof lock on Amazon right now.”
Donna tilted her head, a little amused by her husband. “A lock? You think that’s going to work on our children?”
“Yes,” he said with complete confidence, his focus never leaving his phone. “Because it’s designed to keep children out.”
“You know you are talking about our children. The half Paulsen, half Specter children that we made,” she reminded him.
Harvey looked up from his phone briefly. “I’ll make sure it's one that they will need an engineering degree to open and approved by Fort Knox,” he replied with a smirk, looking back down at his phone, placing the order.
Donna rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re an idiot.”
“But I’m your idiot,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again.
***
The lock was delivered the following afternoon.
Harvey stood in front of the walk-in pantry with the small box in hand.
“You’re really doing it?” Donna asked from the kitchen island, eating her lunch as Jude and Sloane napped.
“Oh, I’m doing it,” he said, crouching down and tearing open the packaging. “This—” he held up the shiny plastic lock like it was the Commissioner’s Trophy and he just won the World Series with the Yankees “—is the end of the snack bandits.”
Donna smirked into her cup as she took a sip of water, knowing that her husband was underestimating their children, especially their little fiery redheaded daughter.
Harvey finished installing the lock with a decisive click. “There. Fort Knox.” He stood back like an artist admiring his work. “No one’s getting in there unless they’re smart enough to figure it out.”
Donna arched her brow. “You want to tempt fate with that?”
***
Jude was the first to notice the lock. His sock-covered feet thumped into the kitchen, immediately heading towards the pantry.
He reached for the knob of the pantry door, as if it was second nature, but was alert when the knob didn’t twist. His face scrunched in frustration as he jigged the knob. When the knob didn’t twist, he started banging on the pantry door with his palm.
Harvey walked into the kitchen once he heard the banging and found Jude attempting to open the lock.
Jude heard his dad’s footsteps approaching him. He stopped banging on the door and looked towards him. “It’s stuck, Daddy. Why is it stuck?” he whined.
Harvey held back a grin, feeling accomplished at his childproof lock idea. “Okay, snack bandit number one. It’s stuck because that is a lock to keep you and your partner in crime, Sloane, out of the pantry without asking. It’s high-level security.”
Jude pouted. “But how will we get snacks?”
“You won’t,” Harvey said, flatly. “You will ask me or Mama if you can have a snack.”
Jude tilted his head. “Snack now?”
“Nice try, my boy,” Harvey replied. “Go play.”
Jude groaned dramatically, then thumped across the kitchen through the living room, into the playroom. “You’re ruining our lives.”
Harvey smirked when Jude was out of sight. “One snack bandit down. One to go,” he murmured.
***
Harvey was letting Duke and Genevieve out into the backyard when Sloane padded into the kitchen, dragging Pooh by one arm. She stopped in front of the pantry door, her eyes narrowed at the new lock.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at the lock, voice laced with suspicion.
Harvey stepped towards her, his hands in his pockets. “It’s a lock. It helps keep little hands out of the snacks unless Mama or Daddy says so.”
Sloane tilted her head, furrowed her brow at her dad, then back to studying the lock. “Why?”
“Because you and your brother are raiding the pantry like tiny snack bandits,” Harvey answered, matter-of-factly.
Sloane snapped her head towards him, her brow still furrowed. “I not a bandit,” she insisted, clutching Pooh against her chest. “I hungry.”
Harvey crouched to be eye level with Sloane. “Yeah, well, this is how it’s going to be from now on. You and Jude ask if you can have a snack, and if Mama or I say yes, we will open the pantry for you. The pantry isn’t a free-for-all anymore,” he explained.
Sloane walked away without another word, but the glare she gave Harvey as she walked out of the kitchen told him this isn’t over .
***
The lock lasted two days.
Harvey walked into the kitchen from the backyard after letting Duke and Genevieve outside. He was still in his pajamas, his dark blond hair disheveled from sleep, and his black plastic-framed glasses were slightly crooked from being half awake.
He wiped his hand down his face, trying to shake off the drowsiness. It was early for him to be up, but with two puppies that he had promised Donna he would handle all the puppy training, he had no choice.
When he turned to walk towards the coffee bar, he froze.
There was Sloane, tongue between her teeth in concentration, fiddling with the lock with one hand, her Pooh in the other. He didn’t stop her; he watched in amusement and waited for her to get frustrated at his high-level childproof lock. But after a few more twists and pulls, click , and Sloane pushed the pantry door open.
She smiled triumphantly and emerged inside the pantry, hugging her Pooh to her chest.
Harvey was shocked that his two-and-a-half-year-old had just beaten a childproof lock, padded towards the pantry, and peeked around the pantry door. Sloane stood in the middle of the pantry, finger at her chin, contemplating which side of the pantry to raid first. She decided on the economy-sized box of Goldfish crackers that were within her reach. She opened the carton and stuffed a handful of crackers into her mouth.
Harvey leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest, and let out a slight cough to get his daughter’s attention without scaring her.
Sloane turned towards Harvey with an " Oh no, I've been caught" look.
“Sloane Riley Specter,” Harvey said slowly, trying to sound stern, even though his daughter slightly amused him. “How did you open the pantry?”
She looked at him with a mouth full of crackers, unbothered. “Easy. Click,” she said matter-of-factly.
Harvey stood up straight and walked closer to his daughter. “Easy?”
“Easy. Click,” Sloane repeated, pointing at the plastic lock. “Push, pull.”
Harvey stepped towards Sloane fully, grabbed the box of Goldfish from her arms, placed them back on the shelf, and nudged Sloane out of the pantry.
He closed the door behind them and locked the childproof lock over the knob. “Show Daddy how you opened the pantry,” Harvey asked, hoping Sloane had a stroke of luck with unlocking the pantry.
Sloane stood with utter confidence as she stared at the lock, her tongue sticking out of her mouth in concentration. “Push Pull,” she muttered. Then the lock clicked open again, and she pushed the pantry door open. “Snack,” she shrugged at Harvey like it was the most obvious process.
Harvey stood there staring at Sloane, his mouth open slightly, betrayed by the so-called childproof lock.
Donna walked into the kitchen, still in her pajamas, her tortoise plastic-framed glasses on her face, her natural curls mussed from sleep, as Sloane finished demonstrating the lock to Harvey. She took one look at Sloane’s smug expression, which was so much like Harvey’s, and laughed.
“I see you tempted fate, and your daughter cracked the lock,” she said towards Harvey.
Harvey turned towards Donna behind him, stunned. “She cracked the lock,” he mumbled.
Donna smirked, walking in front of Sloane, brushing a curl from her face, “I did remind you that our children are half-Paulsen, half-Specter. She murmured to him.
Donna turned her attention back to Sloane. “You taught yourself how to unlock the pantry?”
Sloane beamed at her mama and nodded. “Uh huh,” she said proudly.
Donna crouched down in front of Sloane, brushing some Goldfish crumbs from her cheek. “You are so smart, my sweet girl. But you still have to ask me or Daddy before getting a snack in the pantry.
Sloane nodded. “Okay, Mama. I ask—next time,” she murmured before running off to the playroom with Pooh clutched against her chest.
Harvey sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, and muttered, “ We’re raising a criminal mastermind. We’re in trouble when she’s a teenager.”
Donna bit her lip, trying to hide her smile. “Well, she is Harvey Specter’s daughter.”
Harvey dropped his head, then looked up at her. “Not funny,” he muttered, matter-of-factly.
Donna brushed her hand on his arm, and she pulled him towards the pantry. “Come on. Let’s make breakfast before the snack bandit comes back.