A/N:
Ren and Steve, this is all your fault, now I keep thinking baby thoughts. Which is scary.
***
Mrs. Ross looked, well, the way anybody would expect Pete Ross' mother to look, but to a slightly higher degree than usual.
"Martha, could you keep an eye on Pete for me? The babysitter called and said that she'd be late, her mom is sick, and I have got to get going. Bethany will pick him up on her way. It won't be more than two hours, I *promise.*"
"Of course. Hi, Pete."
"Hi, Mrs. Kent! Mom says that you have a kid, too, but how come you weren't carrying him around in your tummy? What's his name? Or is he a girl, instead?" The last question sounded as though he were asking if she had disgusting personal habits. *Sweetie, one of these days, you won't think like that about girls.*
Mrs. Ross made her escape.
"No, Pete, he's a boy, and his name is Clark. His dad and I adopted him, which means that since his first mommy and daddy couldn't take care of him, they gave him to people who would love him just as much as they would."
A huge frown. "How come they couldn't take care of him?"
"I don't know, Pete. But they loved him enough to make sure that people who could take care of him would become his new mommy and daddy."
"Can I see him?"
"He's out in the barn with his dad. Let's go out there and find them, okay?" Pete grinned widely, as though that was the best idea ever. *You are going to be a real menace to female hearts when you get older.*
***
Clark was crouching in a clear imitation of Jonathan's stance, next to a wooden crate.
"Very, very gentle, Clark. Like that. Just like that. They're little, you see, and so you need to touch them like you were that tiny, since you're a big boy."
"Jonathan? Clark? Pete Ross is here and he'd like to meet Clark."
Jonathan got up, wiping his hands on his jeans, and Clark imitated him faithfully, right down to the grin at Pete. "Hi, Pete. This is Clark."
"Hi, Clark. How old are you? Are you my age? I'm three and a half."
"Whoa, slow down, big guy. Clark doesn't speak much English yet."
"How come?"
"He's as smart as everybody who does, but he's from someplace else, where they don't speak English."
"Where?"
*Good question.* "We don't know."
"Are you going to find out?"
Clark had taken a tiny step behind Jonathan at the barrage of questions, but slipped out again, smiling widely. He turned around and reached into the box, then showed Pete the grey tabby kitten, carefully cradled in both hands.
"Hey, a kitten!" Pete and Clark grinned at one another, and Pete, very carefully, scratched the tiny head with one finger. The boys giggled as the kitten yawned, and as if they'd been cued, imitated its yawn to one another simultaneously. Clark put the grey kitten back and held out a black and white one. Pete scratched its head again, but when the kitten didn't yawn, they giggled again and yawned for it.
"Okay, boys, why don't you help me out by watching the kittens? And then maybe you can help mom make cookies."
"No ulterior motive there, Jonathan," Martha muttered, and retreated at yet another shining smile. Jonathan couldn't manage the innocence, though.
Ren and Steve, this is all your fault, now I keep thinking baby thoughts. Which is scary.
***
Mrs. Ross looked, well, the way anybody would expect Pete Ross' mother to look, but to a slightly higher degree than usual.
"Martha, could you keep an eye on Pete for me? The babysitter called and said that she'd be late, her mom is sick, and I have got to get going. Bethany will pick him up on her way. It won't be more than two hours, I *promise.*"
"Of course. Hi, Pete."
"Hi, Mrs. Kent! Mom says that you have a kid, too, but how come you weren't carrying him around in your tummy? What's his name? Or is he a girl, instead?" The last question sounded as though he were asking if she had disgusting personal habits. *Sweetie, one of these days, you won't think like that about girls.*
Mrs. Ross made her escape.
"No, Pete, he's a boy, and his name is Clark. His dad and I adopted him, which means that since his first mommy and daddy couldn't take care of him, they gave him to people who would love him just as much as they would."
A huge frown. "How come they couldn't take care of him?"
"I don't know, Pete. But they loved him enough to make sure that people who could take care of him would become his new mommy and daddy."
"Can I see him?"
"He's out in the barn with his dad. Let's go out there and find them, okay?" Pete grinned widely, as though that was the best idea ever. *You are going to be a real menace to female hearts when you get older.*
***
Clark was crouching in a clear imitation of Jonathan's stance, next to a wooden crate.
"Very, very gentle, Clark. Like that. Just like that. They're little, you see, and so you need to touch them like you were that tiny, since you're a big boy."
"Jonathan? Clark? Pete Ross is here and he'd like to meet Clark."
Jonathan got up, wiping his hands on his jeans, and Clark imitated him faithfully, right down to the grin at Pete. "Hi, Pete. This is Clark."
"Hi, Clark. How old are you? Are you my age? I'm three and a half."
"Whoa, slow down, big guy. Clark doesn't speak much English yet."
"How come?"
"He's as smart as everybody who does, but he's from someplace else, where they don't speak English."
"Where?"
*Good question.* "We don't know."
"Are you going to find out?"
Clark had taken a tiny step behind Jonathan at the barrage of questions, but slipped out again, smiling widely. He turned around and reached into the box, then showed Pete the grey tabby kitten, carefully cradled in both hands.
"Hey, a kitten!" Pete and Clark grinned at one another, and Pete, very carefully, scratched the tiny head with one finger. The boys giggled as the kitten yawned, and as if they'd been cued, imitated its yawn to one another simultaneously. Clark put the grey kitten back and held out a black and white one. Pete scratched its head again, but when the kitten didn't yawn, they giggled again and yawned for it.
"Okay, boys, why don't you help me out by watching the kittens? And then maybe you can help mom make cookies."
"No ulterior motive there, Jonathan," Martha muttered, and retreated at yet another shining smile. Jonathan couldn't manage the innocence, though.