What Happens Next: A Gallimaufry

melancholic romantic comic cynic. bi & genderqueer. fantasy writer. sysrae on ao3.

A Thoughtful Child

My son is sick. Not badly sick, but sick enough to make him miserable. During the day, he’s been friendly and cheerful, but at night, when his sleep is broken, he cries, exhausted but unable to rest.

So I brought him out to sit with me, thinking I’d give him some milk. He can hold his own bottle, but hasn’t yet mastered the trick of tilting it all the way up, so I still tend to help. He sat on my lap, but would only take milk in sips; his blocked nose makes it hard to breathe and swallow. My own water bottle has a built in straw, and thinking that it might be easier for him to drink if he didn’t also have to tip his head back, I offered it to him.

Instead of sipping, he took the bottle from me and shook it, listening to the water inside. And then, very carefully, he held it out to me, up to my face, with the straw facing out, so that I could drink from it, the way he drinks when I hold the bottle for him. I took a sip. He smiled, pulled the bottle back, and shook it again. When he heard the water slosh, he once more held it out for me to sip. He repeated the pattern over and over, letting me drink, smiling, shaking the bottle, then offering it again, until the whole thing was empty. 

He’s back in bed now, and seems to have finally fallen asleep, after a small amount of crying. All evening, I’ve been trying to settle him - he’s had cuddles and a story, milk and medicine, music and extra play time, and while it’s kept him occupied, as soon as I’ve stepped out of the room, he’s gotten upset all over again.

But what really seems to have made him happy is helping someone else. He couldn’t drink himself, but made sure I had my whole bottle of water before he did the wriggle-dance that means he wants to go back to bed.

And I just.

I don’t often feel sentimental about motherhood; not yet, anyway. I had an awful first year, and even now that I’ve settled into something of a routine, it’s still tiring, still difficult, still new and weird. I worry constantly that I’m not doing the right thing, that I’m screwing it up, that I’m bad at all this.

And then he goes and does something like this, and everything feels better.   

  1. melredcap said: I believe “d'awwww!” is the only possible response here XD
  2. bethanyactually said: I know exactly what you mean. My first year of motherhood was intense and grueling and draining. But it got better! Those moments happen more and more and it gets so. much. better. Hope he’s feeling better soon!
  3. myriadism said: that is so sweet and amazing i don’t know if i can handle it <3 <3 <3
  4. fozmeadows posted this