Lore [3/???]

The baby is awake.

You know she is awake before the baby monitor even picks up her movement. There's a sense you get - a stirring in the air, a prickle along the back of your neck.

You leave your room, crossing the small hallway into Kimberly's. Your sister is at a doctor's appointment. With the woman's anxious energy and mumbling gone, you don't feel like a side character in your own home for once.

Lily is sitting up in her crib when you enter, rubbing at her little pudgy cheeks. She hasn't noticed you, so you take the chance to watch her.

It only takes a moment for her to look up, mouth pursed from sleep and the trouble of waking up. She senses you just like you sense her - it's instinctual.

Bug smiles her baby smile and reaches those little round hands toward you. You go to her without thinking, cooing, "Buggy-boo, did you have a good nap?"

She coos and gurgles against your neck, head shoving against your jaw in a well-rehearsed motion.

You change her diaper and her clothes, struggling to put on a pair of socks while she kicks her feet and giggles.

"You are such a pill," you tease her, tickling her side and giving up on the second sock for the moment. "Sockies are important!"

Lily babbles and gums at your shoulder when you scoop her up again. "Lunchtime?" you ask, already descending the stairs with her rouge sock in your pocket. "What'll you have this afternoon, Miss Lily? The special is sweet potato and apple, but we might be able to find some squash and peas if you're feeling spicy."

The girl babbles and drools on your shoulder.

You set her up in her high chair, buckling her in before turning to the cabinet. The baby food jars are arrayed in perfect rows, meticulously ordered by color.

Kimberly's doing. She rearranged them so frequently and into so many patterns that you can't keep up.

"Sweet potato?" you ask the girl as you grab the jar and a little silicone spoon. She only bobbles in her chair. "Sweet potato it is," you sagely nod as if she gave some kind of response.

You pop the top and spend the next ten minutes slowly feeding her, making silly noises and pretending to eat to coax her into hurrying up.

This is the worst part of child-rearing, you've decided. It's just so boring.

When she finishes and you've mopped her face of the spills, you consider her. "Walk?" you ask.

She perks up a bit, her hands stilling from where they were banging against the child tray.

"Mhmm, I thought that'd interest you," you smirk, leaning down. "Gotta put on your sockies first, though. And your shoes. Don't give me that face," you add, even though she probably didn't react.

You read into each twitch of her expression, each micro-tic, as if it means everything.

Lily allows the sock -and even the shoes, to your surprise- and wiggles in your arms when you pick her up. You leave the townhouse with a diaper bag over one shoulder and your wallet and keys in your pocket.

The walk to Alki only takes a couple of minutes. The sun is mostly out, the temperature is mild, and you breathe in the briny scent of the Sound with relief.

It gets too stuffy in the house. Sometimes you forget how wonderful fresh air can be.

You walk around the paved park; Lily snuggles against you. Her breath is hot on your neck, and you're pretty sure she's drooling on it, but you ignore it.

It's not like any of your shirts survive long with her around.

You stop near the Statue of Liberty replica statue (scoffing at it not for the first time) and look out over the water.

The concrete is warm and rough beneath you, the wind cool and caressing. And then there is Lily, babbling in your ear, fingers picking at your shirt.

You glance down; a small leaf has found its way to your collar, and the girl attempts to pluck it out of the fabric's weave.

You do it for her, holding it up for her to see. "Leaf," you say; Lily grabs for it. "Fine, but don't try to eat-"

She immediately attempts to stuff it into her mouth.

"No, pillbug," you snort, wrestling it free. The girl bristles at the indignation, eyes scrunching up, ready to cry.

Ugh.

"Look!" you say suddenly, surprising her from the coming temper tantrum. "See the puppy?"

Lily's head swivels around, rage forgotten.

Thankfully, there is a dog nearby. You point out the little ball of black fur trotting around on its dainty little legs. Lily claps, delighted, and wiggles in your grasp.

Crisis averted for now. You toss the leaf aside, moving Lily to your knee so you can gently bounce her. "Isn't it so cute?" you ask, mind elsewhere.

This trick won't work for much longer, will it? In three months, she'll be a year old. Three months... That's no time at all. When will the promise of seeing a dog stop thrilling her? When will she be trying to do worse things than shoving leaves in her mouth?

Lily babbles and claps, delighted when the dog lets out a tiny yip in her direction. It strains in its harness, trying to come over, but its owner is distracted by a phone call and pulls it closer.

"Aww, so cute, huh?" you ask against Bug's hair, deciding not to worry about the future.

You have here and now. You're going to focus on that.