02-09-2016, 01:56 PM
The thump is unsettling, if not anything else. I stumble forward a bit (she is, after all, a growing bundle) and then my head swings around to pinpoint the intrusion with narrowed eyes. A little filly, warmly painted mocha with blinking eyes to accentuate her adorable face. My own face brightens, a coy smirk holding back a gentle chuckle at the tangle of legs before me. “Oh dear.” I sigh, head tilting ever-so-slightly before I turn my body so that we are facing each other. My dark nose extends to her, huffing the air above her dainty little head and I softly ask, “Are you alright?”
I’m not exactly enamored with children. I’m not in an eager race to create one of my own, but that also doesn’t mean that I deplore them. They’re new to this world, and when I think back to when I was like her - trying so hard to understand my own body - I only feel a pang of sympathy. Whoever she belongs to, they must be proud. She’s certainly pretty, and I have to refrain myself from speaking to her in a cooing tone, as hard as it is, because she’s blinking up at me with those doe-brown eyes and I’m grinning back at her like I would my own future little rugrat.
Darn these kids and their irresistible habits.
But enough of the sentimentality. It’s very clear to me that this youngling has strayed far from the nest, and I’m intent on making things right. “Where’s your mother, hmm?” I question, one eye narrowing playfully. I hope she hasn’t got an attitude about it, but perhaps that’ll make me like her more. Who knows. “I’m Dacia.”
I’m not exactly enamored with children. I’m not in an eager race to create one of my own, but that also doesn’t mean that I deplore them. They’re new to this world, and when I think back to when I was like her - trying so hard to understand my own body - I only feel a pang of sympathy. Whoever she belongs to, they must be proud. She’s certainly pretty, and I have to refrain myself from speaking to her in a cooing tone, as hard as it is, because she’s blinking up at me with those doe-brown eyes and I’m grinning back at her like I would my own future little rugrat.
Darn these kids and their irresistible habits.
But enough of the sentimentality. It’s very clear to me that this youngling has strayed far from the nest, and I’m intent on making things right. “Where’s your mother, hmm?” I question, one eye narrowing playfully. I hope she hasn’t got an attitude about it, but perhaps that’ll make me like her more. Who knows. “I’m Dacia.”
DACIA