wanttobeahero | for Emma: A mother’s arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them

Whatever magic had turned Henry into a small child was a bit sloppy; he remembered his family, he knew both his moms, his grandpa, but his memories of being in Darrow for the past month and a half were fuzzy. But he was so young that he didn't question it when his mommy told him they'd just gone on a trip. He'd been worried when his mama wasn't there, too, but it had been explained to him that she was just sleeping, and most of the early part of the day, he was okay with that answer, wanting her to sleep if she needed it.

But after eating lunch and beginning to wake from his afternoon nap, he needed to see his mama with his own eyes, to make sure she really was here, too. Still sleepy, though, his arms were loosely wrapped around Regina's neck, head tucked to her shoulder as they arrived at Emma's apartment. The moment the door opened, though, a sleepy smile appeared on Henry's face, and he was immediately reaching for her: "Mama."

[ ooc: Regina is just dropping Henry off and sticking around for a short while to make sure things are okay, and then it'll just be Henry and Emma! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

So proud of himself, Henry crawled on top of her; not that he could really do much with his tiny hands, but he began to try and tickle her nonetheless, fingers moving across her neck.

"Mama...I stop if I get kisses," he explained, letting her in on the secret to get him to stop tickling her.

"Ah-ha! So that's your weakness!" Wrapping him up tightly in her arms, Emma planted noisy kisses all over his chubby little cheeks and forehead.

Henry squealed so loudly, pure joy in that laugh as he squirmed a bit against her. But he loved the kisses, and he was trying to give her some of his own now. "I give mama kisses!"

"You bet, kiddo." Smiling, Emma sat up and settled Henry in her lap, cuddling him close and smoothing his hair. Her eyes stung a little, just as they had when he'd first launched himself into her arms, but she tried to conceal it; she didn't want to upset him, or let him think she was upset. "Mama wants all the Henry-monster kisses."

"I a good monster, mama," Henry declared, giving her a few more soft kisses. And so far, he didn't seem to notice anything off or wrong with her. She was smiling, and so he smiled right back at her. "I draw you a picture?" He had the perfect thing in mind for a picture he could draw for her, and something she could put on the fridge.

"I would love a picture," Emma gushed, kissing the tip of his tiny nose one last time. It would be the perfect, tangible reminder of the brief time she'd actually been able to hold him when he was this small.

She got up and swung him up in her arms, spinning the around a little before settling him on her hip. "Why don't I set you up a place at the kitchen table, huh? You can put on an old shirt of mommy's over your clothes so you don't get marker on them, okay?"

Or, well, on Roland's clothes, actually, but anyway.

He smiled softly and nodded, and while she was holding him, he rested his head on her shoulder, one tiny hand curling against her shirt, holding onto the fabric there.

He had to think of a really good picture to draw her, and he had a few ideas that would include some of her favorite things. After a moment, he picked up his head, kissed her cheek sweetly, and asked, "Snack, too?"

"Definitely," Emma promised him, glad she'd made it a habit to keep some food in the house now (and if she ever neglected it, Regina was quick to stuff green and leafy things into her fridge). "How about...mmm...ants on a log," she asked, referring to the concoction of peanut butter and raisins on celery sticks. "And maybe some grapes, or cheese and crackers?"

"That's good, mama," Henry nodded vigorously. Really, he could eat just about anything, that seemed to be a constant with him no matter what age he was. He absolutely loved peanut butter, though. He could just lick it right off the spoon and be happy with that, so the prospect of ants on a log was promising.

"All righty then." Emma kissed the tip of his nose and swung him into a chair at the tiny kitchen table. "You sit tight for just a second, mama will go get your pencils and paper, and make you a snack, okay?"

She kissed the top of his head, smoothed his hair, then ducked away quickly, grabbing the plastic art box full of colored pencils and some notebook paper, and a ratty t-shirt out of the laundry basket. She didn't want to leave Henry alone for more than a minute, because he was so tiny, and because she didn't want to miss a thing.

"Here we go!" she called as she jogged back into the kitchenette, and fussed over Henry for a minute or two while they set him up with pencils and papers and tugged the oversized shirt over his head to protect his borrowed clothing. "How about some juice, too?"

He was a curious child, a bit precocious, but he knew better than to wander off and get into trouble. He had a decent idea about his boundaries, what not to touch and what not to do. And mama put him at the kitchen table, so he needed to stay there. By the time she got back, he was humming a bit to himself, swinging his legs back and forth idly, and he smiled up at her, patting his shirt once it was on.

"Yes, pwease," he nodded, still smiling up at her before he grabbed a bunch of colored pencils and began to draw.

for Emma: A mother’s arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject