Fanfic:Through a Child's Eyes
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Haeden Sha'hal Ives didn't cry when he woke up any more. He was of an age to be past that. No, his new favorite game was to crawl out of his bed on his own, because he was a big boy and a strong one, taking after both his parents. His coordination was that of a three year old, however, and these were all conflicting traits.
Even though it wasn't that high off the ground, he'd still somehow slip off the child's bed instead of a more graceful move and would land on his backside.
This would, of course, produce a loud thud. Often, his mother or father or both would be in to check on him before he had even summoned up the energy for tears. (They had tried having a taller railing installed to keep him from rolling off or falling off, but he still got around it and always slipped. The only remaining option was to turn it back into a crib, but Mia didn't think it would help.)
Like any other, this morning started no differently. He had gotten in the deep breath to precede the great wail but hadn't started the noise when his mother came in. She rushed, because she wanted to make sure he hadn't landed on his head, but it was with the weary gait of having done this repeatedly.
"Haeden," she admonished. He frowned, feeling his wailing fit negated, and he'd been working up a really good one. Still, he lost heart for it when his mother swept him up in her arms and set him on her hip. He could see that she wasn't happy with him. "You really need to stop doing this. You scare your mother to death and one of these days you're going to land on your little head," she said.
He didn't really understand all of these words, but recognized the tone as an unhappy one, but she kissed his forehead and that made it better.
Carrying him out into the other room, she set him in his special chair at the table. He grinned, the thud to the floor completely forgotten in the face of what he knew to be coming: food. Giggling, he banged his hands on the tabletop. He was always hungry! Meals were some of his favorite times. This was also because it was one of the times when mama and papa both sat down with him every day.
As if called by his thought of his father, the man came to the table. His parents exchanged gestures and words that Haeden didn't pay attention to, frowning and looking around the table for his food. It took only moments for him to become impatient and he banged his hands harder a few times, adding a couple loud exclamations of 'food!' for good measure, before his mother's gentle but firm grip caught a hand.
"No," she said clearly and firmly with the expression that said he better listen. (By this age, he'd learned this much and could retain it.) He frowned, but stopped banging his hands. Instead he moved onto a new gesture he'd learned from his play dates with Kassyna. Haeden rubbed his chubby little hands together. He had learned to do this when there was something he wanted.
Mama left the table, hopefully to go get food, so his green gaze swung over to his father. Papa was obviously busy reading something, so he didn't notice the intent look he was receiving. (Or, if he did notice, he didn't give it away.)
Haeden knew enough to know that his father didn't look like everyone else, but that was all he knew. He was but a child, after all, and the rest of what he knew was that this was the face that had carried him and played with him and talked to him. He didn't know that the rough voice and strange features made others scared. They were familiar to his son and children appreciated the familiar.
When papa didn't pay attention to him, he looked at the table top again. He lifted his hands to bang them, temporarily forgetting his mother's admonishment until somewhere behind him he heard the sharp 'ah!' of his mother and stopped himself. He had foolishly forgotten that his mother saw everything. He resumed the secondary gesture, frowning in impatience while waiting for mama to hurry up with his food already, if he wasn't allowed to do something fun.
"You're going to end up eating your chair one of these days," his mother said as she set a plate and cup down on the tabletop. He didn't know what the food was, but he recognized it as things he liked. There were wedges of something red on the outside and white on the inside that he really liked. He grabbed one and gnawed on it with his little teeth while perusing the rest of the meal.
Around him, his mother and father continued talking. He had eyes and ears only for his food, even though his food didn't actually make any sounds. Whenever he wanted a drink of milk, his mother's hand just appeared out of nowhere to hold steady the child's cup that he had to hold with both hands. (This was sad for him since it meant he had to put down whatever else he'd been holding.)
Haeden was always sad when the food was gone, but then went to his next favorite part of the day. His mother would lift him from his chair and let him clamor over on to his father's lap to get a hug and a kiss good-bye. This was always a little game - when he kissed one side of his father's face, it was rough. The other side was rough too, but in a lesser way.
Mama would then get him dressed and he never liked his day cloths as much as his sleep cloths, but he tolerated them. He'd be left to play for a while before mama would take him to the place he stayed when she went off and did whatever it was that mamas did while his father was off doing whatever it was that fathers did.
The day always passed too quickly. There were other kids there who were all watched by some girl or another wearing a white dress with pretty colors at the edge. His friend Kassyna was always there, as was Daimen, Caitlin and Selenia.
Sometimes there were other children there who he didn't know as well, but he usually played with Daimen. The boys liked to stick together, but they'd play with the girls sometimes too.
Snack time was good, but play time was better. Mama always interrupted playtime when she came to get him and the day was over. Every time she did, she'd always pick him up and smile at him. He liked it when she smiled. If her hair was down, he'd usually grab part of it but he wouldn't pull. He knew that she didn't like that.
"Were you a good boy today?" she would ask.
"Yes, Haeden good," he would answer with a smile and a firm nod. Then he'd tell her about his day, although it was usually the same. "I played wif blocks an' built new towers. Daimen always adds purple. I wan' more gween; aren't enouf gween blocks.
His mother would laugh and kiss his cheek as they walked. "You are your mother's son," she'd say. He really wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew that it was a good thing and he'd smile.
Once they got home again, his mother would set him down and he'd continue playing. (Life is over all pretty simple when you're only three.) His favorite was always the blocks, though he also liked to draw pictures. (For some reason, this particularly pleased his mother. He didn't know why, but he kept doing it and making her smile.)
For a while, mama would walk around and make noises, talk to herself and carry around books and papers and other things. He didn't pay much attention until she would come over and sit down on the floor with him. She might play blocks with him or give him some paper and something to draw with, but only if he asked.
"I build big tower," he declared.
She laughed as she looked at the height of blocks he'd assembled. "Yes you are," she agreed. "Are you going to make that taller than you are?"
Haeden gave her a look. "That's silly, mama," he declared seriously. (Adults could be very silly sometimes, after all.) He kept working with the blocks and she helped. When it got as tall (though not taller) than he was, he started adding new layers - he'd make it wider, or add little towers around it, or other things like his father had shown him.
After a while, papa would come home. This also made mama smile a lot. She would get up and go see him. Haeden would wait patiently for a few moments until it got the better of him and he'd get up onto his wobbly little legs and run over with his arms outstretched, calling 'papa!' as he did. Usually papa would oblige him and pick him up.
It was more fun when papa did cause he got to be taller than when mama picked him up. Haeden would giggle and clap his hands after a hello hug. Usually, mama would smile at them both and give them both a kiss on the cheek before she moved off to do what mamas did while Haeden's attention was focused on his father.
There would be another meal together and usually more impatience and table banging and admonishments before the meal was done. He'd be allowed to play a little while longer before mama would carry him to bed. Either mama or papa, sometimes both when he was lucky, would come in and tell him a story.
He always tried so very hard to stay awake as long as possible, but mama and papa had some kind of something that always lulled him to sleep by the end of the story. They'd kiss him on the forehead and he'd drift off and dream of giant castles made of green building blocks before he'd wake up to another day in the life of a child.
