Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or its characters.

Author's Note: So I always try to end my Little Clark stories with a fluffy family moment between Jonathan, Martha, and Clark…something to make us all say, "Awwww."

Getting Jonathan home was tricky. He was strapped into a back brace, still very much in pain, and he had been ordered to lie low in bed until further notice. This time, Jonathan didn't attempt to fight his doctors; his back hurt so much that he waved the white flag of defeat.

Martha helped her husband upstairs and into bed. "We're keeping the brace on, right?"

"Until my back feels better," Jonathan admitted. "It feels so stiff though, Martha."

"It's okay. You're going to be all right."

"Clark here!" Clark announced, showing up in his parents' doorway. Once again, he had changed from his jeans and t-shirt that Martha had dressed him in that morning back into his pajamas. He had put them on inside out, and buttoned them all wrong. He carried his pillow. "Clark sleep with Daadaa!"

Martha laughed. "Clark, honey, you can sleep with Daadaa, but you have to stay on Maamaa's side of the bed, okay? Daadaa needs a lot of space to rest. His back really hurts."

"'Kay, Maamaa." Clark tossed his pillow onto his mother's side of the bed, then climbed up onto the bed and latched onto his father's arm. "Niiii, Maamaa!"

Martha smiled and ruffled her son's buzzed hair. "Goodnight, little Clark. Sleep tight, my sweet little miracle." She bent down to kiss him. "Goodnight, darling," she called over to her husband.

"Rest for a few minutes with us, Martha," Jonathan encouraged her gently. "Just squeeze in beside Clark. We're a family."

Martha climbed into bed beside her son and held him tight against her, giving Jonathan his space. It felt kind of good to rest, especially after having to handle the farm all by herself since Jonathan had been taken to the hospital. Martha found herself dozing off and closing her eyes.

"Maamaa?" Clark asked her.

"Hmmm?"

"What's meer-cool?"

Martha laughed. "What's that, honey?"

"Maamaa said Clark her meer-cool."

"You're our miracle, sweetie. Maamaa and Daadaa thought that we couldn't have any children, but then you came along." Martha stroked her son's hair. "You're our little miracle. You're our little baby."

Clark snuggled closer to his mother. "Clark meer-cool," he repeated, smiling.

Clark felt his mother wrapping her arms around him; his mother's grasp was so warm and comforting, and his tiny hands were clutched in his father's larger, gentler one. Daadaa was already asleep, breathing heavily. Maamaa was singing a lullaby.

Life was good.

THE END