Who: Pete & Lina Wisdom, with a (walking) Amelia What: Discussions about getting Amelia tested for the mutant gene, and witnessing her first glorious steps When: Tonight Where: The Wisdom Household Rating/Warnings: Language but that's it Status: Complete!
Man, Pinterest. What a virtual land of addiction to unachievable goals - artistic foods, thrifty crafts made out of toilet paper rolls (what the fuck), whimsical photoshoots, a zillion ways to organize pantries and laundry rooms, distressed barn furniture, fashion you couldn’t get at the practical land known as Target. Hell, even during her pregnant months she never succumbed to such evil, but John had squirreled away a certain magician’s account information and now here she was, browsing through it in the name of friendship.
“Ohhhh, this is cute,” Lina hummed from behind her laptop screen, glasses on her nose (she wore them for reading, sometimes, like a cranky short little old lady). Her spot on the floor was on the playmat with Amelia, whose toys had taken over the living room this evening - she was a crawling fiend who’d been taunting her parents, you see. Standing up while holding on the edge of something was mastered, but as for taking those few, first steps forward?
Nah. Last time she tried she shat her diapers, giggled, and then cried because oh, guess what, she shat herself. “We can do bags of cotton candy, bags of popcorn too, and then there’s the animal crackers? I think the circus thing’s really fucking cute, actually, and if we show it to John at the shower maybe he wouldn’t be such a ninny about - ow!”
Amelia was right next to her, flailing a big snake toy around with a squeaker, and had smacked her mother in the face with it in such an excited spazztic wave of her buttery-rolled arms. Either she approved, or she was determined to take down the fabled Dragon Spooker with baby stuff.
Needless to say, Amelia wasn’t much of a picky eater - she had her preferences, of course. Her favourites. But she was like her mum in that she just loved to eat, didn’t matter what it was. Pete considered that a good thing because it meant they could get away with feeding her an appropriate amount of veg without her fussing and she loved fresh fruit, all kinds. Now he was tasked with making dinner - burgers for the grownups and, since it was easy to shape ground beef, meatballs for the wee one with some cheesy pasta. Something new for her - Amelia never had meatballs before, but he had a feeling she’d like them.
It certainly made the kitchen smell good, however. The smell of sizzling, cooking meat. Such a staple in the Wisdom household.
“What’s wrong with a circus theme anyway?” he asked, rolling those meatballs by hand from where he stood in the kitchen, watching the action in the living room. “It doesn’t seem awful to me. Any theme’s going to be creepy if you add fucking killer clowns to it or whatever.”
He really ought to watch his language since Amelia was talking now - she could say a few words, mostly ma ma and da da and boooooooom. ‘Boom’ was indeed very important. And into the swear jar, a quarter would go.
“But whatever you’d like, love, I’ll just go where you tell me to.” Seemed a safe bet for him. “Did they find out what they were having, boy or girl?”
It really wasn’t, not when she punched in ‘circus nursery’ and a bunch of surprisingly cute shit popped up - and all the stuff Zee already had pinned, well, it was actually all really tasteful. They couldn’t expect less. “Mostly need you to move things around, shirtless,” sneered the sorceress, taking that toy from Amelia because come on, stop abusing your mother. “Or hell, you might need to school Constantine on chilling out a little. You two are the same breed of British grump.”
Amelia didn’t seem all that interested in the plush-squeak-thing, anyway. More like she found her fist delicious as she blinked those round blue peepers at her patriarch. Probably mesmerized with him, like usual. Mommy was too kid, don’t worry. “I actually haven’t heard yet, just that he put a ring on it and they’re having a little wedding before she pops the kid out.”
“Yaaaaaaaaaaa,” was the year-old’s drooly sound around the chub of her hand, contributing with her brand of wisdom. It was the equivalent to wearing a monocle and going ‘I concur,’ Lina was sure of it.
“Move things around shirtless I can handle,” Pete smirked - well, he was flattered that his wife thought he looked good enough to be shown off to the masses all half-naked. “But schooling someone on ‘chilling out’?” It sounded amusing with a tinge of English accent - there were just some American slang phrases and words that didn’t work with such a smooth fog, Tower of London sort of timbre to them. “That’s a steep request, Red, but I’ll do my best. He must have quite the stick up his bum if he needs lessons from the likes of me.”
Of course, it was difficult to picture Wisdom as grumpy when he was interacting with his daughter - those moments were decidedly carefree. The last thing he wanted was for Amelia to inherit his cynicism and shit attitude about humanity.
Like now, for example. “Button nose,” he cooed at her, to get her attention. Funny thing was, an English nose was so not a button nose - and she was developing an English nose. “No need to whack your mum, she’s not going to eat your meatballs. These are just for you.”
They were almost done, he just needed to make them small enough for her to eat them as finger food (or they could try the fork again, see how that went). Because Amelia would attempt to stuff a whole adult-sized meatball into her gaping maw like the piglet she was.
Yes, shirtless, and people could ogle but if they so dared touch, well - that’s when a little violence would come into play. But, nah, no destruction at a babyshower. It was all about raining gifts on the parents-to-be and letting the mother eat whatever the fuck she wanted (even if it betrayed the usual lifestyle diet). “First-time dad jitters, you know the deal,” she pointed out and look what happened.
Pete Wisdom now cooed and made kissy noises at his spawn. Video evidence existed as well.
Lina shut her laptop then, enough Pinteresting for the time being - she’d tackle it more later, poke at a couple people to help execute things in a way that wouldn’t end up in a Craft Failure Blog with sarcastic commentary like ‘nailed it!’ “And worried about what the kid might inherit too, that kind of stuff.”
Nothing they were strangers to. Their little mutant had a half-gummy half-teeth smile around her hands, because whatever her father was saying to her was delightful. How two angry people made such a happy thing, it was a mystery. But she was her father’s daughter, bound to awaken that latent mutant gene hidden in her DNA someday.
“Ah, yes.” Pete understood the worry about genetics - he didn’t exactly want Amelia to be saddled with the mutant gene, since he often believed it was quite the headache for, say, a teenager to deal with (and he had first-hand experience). But at the very least, in Orange County, she’d be surrounded by people who understood what it was like to have a power you couldn’t always control - at least not at first. There was a significant amount of non-humans in this area, so he was grateful. It was easier than it would be in his dream world.
And since that had been alluded to... “Speaking of inheriting and all that. We might be able to test Amelia, now that I think of it,” he went on, washing his hands at the sink once the meatballs were done sizzling. Now he just had to mix her bit of cheesy pasta and they’d be ready to eat. The burgers were set too - he’d added bacon to Lina’s, she needn’t worry. “It’s possible she didn’t get the x-gene. Romany didn’t, in our dreams.”
But Pete was a mutant, with an activated gene - so therefore it was almost certain Amelia carried the gene too. Someone better with genetics might be able to tell for sure, but he still just had a feeling.
Hmm. Not a bad idea, really. Better to know now and be certain than to just be mostly sure with a side of doubt. There was no magic test for that sort of thing - the field of science would be their best bet, and she was pretty sure she’d heard about some kind of geneticists around the network. “I don’t see why not, as long as it’s not too weirdly invasive?” Because, y’know, the concern was coming from the same woman who got sniffly during Amelia’s first round of shots.
Hey, feelings happened when you saw your little helpless little person in pain, alright?
The aromas of cooked meat made that black hole of a stomach rumbled menacingly, and Lina pushed her laptop aside to stand. It was the season of denim shorts (she wasn’t wearing leggings for once, gasp) and flowy shirts, her skin a little kissed from the sun. She leaned against the frame between the kitchen and living room, a foot in each room. “I mean, what, do you think it’ll be blood work? A mouth swab? Poop samples, because we can get plenty of those...”
A glance was spared to Amelia, on her knees and staring intently at the cat she once threw up on as a newborn. Guess sat in regal obesity. Watching. Waiting. Harmless, usual stuff that wasn’t all that interesting.
“Not certain how a test would go exactly, but in my dreamworld there were mutant scanners - it pinged when it picked up on the x-gene,” Pete explained, getting Amelia’s highchair set up at the table. This was always an adventure, mealtimes with the toddler - sometimes she’d use her fork, and sometimes she wouldn’t. It really just depended on what she was eating but more often than not, a bath was required after supper.
He wasn’t crazy about pricking her for a blood sample either, like Lina - a mouth swab would be far less invasive. “Someone familiar with the technology from that world might be able to build one - they didn’t seem overly complicated. Though I highly doubt we can get away with handing over her shit in a baggie,” he chuckled, noting how intently Amelia was watching Guess in all of her rotund glory (she wasn’t fat, she was just big boned - no, really, that damn cat was fat).
Stepping into the living room, he’d try and bait Amelia with food since she was already on her knees. “Want meatballs, button nose?”
Lina’s nose scrunched thoughtfully. A scanner would be ideal as long as, you know, it was harmless - that was the main thing, and she didn’t see why it wouldn’t. “We could ask around,” she said - there were plenty of mutants (jesus christ, that word did not roll off the tongue nicely) on the network, someone had to have something. “I know how much you just love to chat it up with -”
Well, she was going to make a cheeky comment before a certain tiny one used her hands to push herself up. Like, standing up. Without the use of holding the edge of something more stable, holy shit - and sure, the stance was wobbly, but…
Amelia let out a squeal, fingers making grabby hands and the sorceress wasn’t sure if she wanted the meatballs or to terrorize the cat. Knowing her, probably both, but Lina went to excitedly slap Pete on the arm (while making a sound so high pitched it clearly wasn’t anything human) and grab her phone for recording purposes.
“Hold on, hold on, wait, okay, camera up - Amelia’s first steps, take...seven? Eight? How many times have we tried doing this??” A lot. Stop toying with their emotions, kid. “Wave food in front of her nose, see what happens.”
Like she was a horse with a carrot, whatever.
Very possible Amelia wanted to grab the cat by the tail and fling her (could she even lift this blubber though?), and follow that up with a victory meal. Pete wasn’t sure. He just grabbed the plastic bowl of meatballs and sunk down to her height, a bit across the way - if this delightfully-scented snack didn’t get her to walk, then nothing would.
“Of course you can do it, pumpkin,” he encouraged. Certainly they’d gone through this multiple times, false alarms, his and Lina’s daughter clearly trolling them - but he had a good feeling about this. This was going to be the time that it took.
And the spectacle was being recorded, even better. Because sure enough, here came Baby Godzilla, squealing and taking those first wobbly, uncertain steps. A few right in a row, then she stalled - then she picked up the pace again, clapping her hands and heading right for where meatballs and the cat awaited.
Fear was etched in Guess’ face, truly - the cat whipped her head to look at her human masters, then back at the moving child, then back at them with eyes that screamed why is that thing suddenly bipedal and moving at me which, of course, then prompted the fat feline to slowly step back. Lina was sure she was capturing pure comedic gold, alongside all those cute and cherished moments under the category of firsts for their demon.
“Yes, finally,” she whispered a squeal, and she was fidgeting so excitedly too - almost like she was doing some kind of ‘I have to piss a river out of my twat’ dance. Not only did she reach the bowl of meaty treats, she bent down and took one into her hands and starting gnawing on it with those bitty chompers.
There was another wobble that made Lina think she’d fall on her bum but, nope. That determined toddler carried on. Towards the cat. Guess didn’t stay long, fuck that. Those paws slid and scrambled on the hardwood floor before she bolted like the extra fifteen pounds of blubber on her were nothing. “You know what comes after this, right? Running. Pete, she’s going to start running - after the cat a lot, and then running into things.”
Oh boy. She imagined she’d be casting some recovery spells here and there. There was no way in hell Amelia wasn’t going to knock her head on things or fall flat on her face.
Pete was just so proud of his little pyromaniac-in-training, and the camera probably picked on his accented words of encouragement and perhaps even an elated grin - a flash of perfectly fine teeth that defied awful British stereotypes. It was so rare that Wisdom smiled, too.
“Running and dancing and gymnastics or whatever she’d like,” he chuckled, taking bigger steps to follow Amelia while she toddled in pursuit of the cat. Just like a penguin, that was what she reminded him of. “You’re doing such a great job, button nose,” and he went around to see if he could distract her from, say, grabbing Guess’ ears. He knelt and held out his arms. “You’ll give daddy a hug, won’t you?”
Pfft, you bet your sweet ass Lina got all of it on video. All of it, from the terrorized cat to the messy noms of the waddling baby, to her husband’s expression. Amelia had his smile - and she showed hers nonstop, now especially, as she shuffled those barefeet across the floor until she tripped into Pete’s arms and smooshed that meatball into his shirt.
It was the cutest thing and fuck, she could melt.
“I was going to be pissed if she started walking without us around,” giggled the redhead, zooming in on the pulverized baby food. Yep, that was going to leave a nice stain. But that was enough recording - she set the phone down and crouched behind Pete, arms around him and effectively trapping him between the two ladies of the household. He’d find a way to cope. “I think we need to pat ourselves on the back. After a year she’s still alive, she’s only tried eating a rock once, and now she can walk among the rest of us.”
Maybe they should invest on a leash. If Amelia was anything like her mother beside the constant hunger and petiteness, there’d also be a thirst for adventure.
See, Pete would argue that Amelia had her mum’s smile - he did see quite a bit of Lina in her despite the colouring which was clearly all her dark and surly father. She was bloody adorable either way, and so much that he didn’t even mind meatball all on his shirt - it wasn’t the Armani, he would never wear such things during mealtime with the toddler.
“We have done a rather bang-up job, haven’t we?” he laughed a little, scooping Amelia up and holding her, patting her back with his hand as she got all cosy in the space between his neck and shoulder. There were few things Wisdom loved more than cuddling his daughter. “Soon she’ll be able to wipe her own bum too.”
Well, it’d be another year or so for that. Nappies, and many of them, in the meantime.
Whoa now, one step at a time. Lina wasn’t ready for that independence yet - Amelia was at that age of exploration, where her perception of things began to really develop, and she was hilarious to watch and so easy to cuddle with. Kind of like a puppy but, y’know, human.
So she was still alright with the diaper changes, even with the occasional unsightly blowout (famous last words).
“And her face,” she snorted - Amelia liked cuddles, but she seemed to like what she was eating more. Little piglet. Good thing they were always prepared for messes; there were some wipes on the end table (once you had a kid, baby necessities suddenly became house decor) she used to clean her face. And maybe some of Pete’s shirt, too. “Hand her over, Petey-bird. Looks like you’re going to have to get shirtless prematurely and throw that in the wash.”
Nope, she definitely wasn’t complaining.
“Alright, alright. Now that she knows I’m the most proud father who ever saw their child walking,” Pete acquiesced, and gave Lina the tiny firestarter. He really would need to find a new shirt - as fun as eating half-naked would be, the proper and stuffy British side of him was simply mortified by the thought. “Let me just change and we’ll sit down and have a family meal and all that rubbish.”
Guess might still live in fear of the toddler who was even more mobile than before, but that was alright. One day, Her Royal Blubber may even come out of hiding.
Guh. Time to wrestle with those impatient hands, too, they were riddled with minced meat. Amelia wasn’t having it - now she was getting restless, probably from hunger, and while she was all sweet and nice in daddy’s arms she was beginning to be a little hellraiser in hers. Great, kid, way to solidify the ‘daddy’s girl’ stereotype.
“Wait until she burns down her first building,” Lina smirked, readying the flailing tot into the high chair - it’d be a minute, her legs were kicking all over the place and christ on a stick, child, do you want to be fed or not? “We’ll see how proud we are then.”
Or mortified. Mortified would be an accurate emotion too.