DIsclaimer: I do not own Star Trek.

...

"Eat your food, mtoto. No more of Mama's milk!" The small baby in the new highchair kept his mouth firmly shut and pushed his bowl of mushed peas off of his tray, sending them to the floor. "Sorin!"

Nyota cleaned up the mess and brought a new bowl of mushed bananas. She carried the bowl herself, and held a spoonful up to her stubborn son. "No eat! Mama, milk!" He screamed, banging his chubby fists on the table. Nyota sighed and put the spoon up to her mouth and ate a tiny bite. Hm. It actually wasn't half bad...

"Look, yummy! Don't you want to try?" Sorin stopped screaming and stared warily at the bowl, then opened his mouth. Nyota breathed a breath of relief, and fed him a spoonful. He didn't swallow. "Swallow, mtoto." He puffed out his chubby cheeks and pouted, sending soupy banana goo dribbling down his chin. Nyota sighed in frustration and wiped him up with his bib.

Spock got up from his desk and walked over to where Nyota was standing next to the new highchair they had ordered at the last docked Space Station. "What is upsetting you, Nyota?"

"Your son," Nyota remarked wryly. "He won't eat real food! And I can't keep breastfeeding him, we already agreed we would ween him off of that before his first birthday..." Spock leaned down so that he was eye level with his son, who had his fat little arms crossed, and an expression crossed his face that Spock recognized from his wife.

"Sa-fu." Sorin looked up at his Baba. "Eat." For a moment, big, adorable, dark brown eyes pleaded with strong, chocolate brown ones. Then, Sorin opened his mouth-

And spit the remainder of his banana mush all over Spock's face. Nyota doubled over with laughter, and Sorin gurgled as well. Spock almost scowled. He straightened. "I believe he will eat, now." And the half-Vulcan went to the sanitary unit to wash his face, leaving a room full of mirth behind him.

fin