Page 57 of Dreams Do Come True
River starts crying.
“I know, little one. I need to find out what’s wrong, though,” he takes the thermometer out and looks at the screen. “His temperature’s normal.”
“Ver owie,” Lyric says, pointing to his tummy.
Justice has a little feel around and then smiles. “No need to panic, he just has some trapped wind, don’t you, little one?”
I breathe a sigh of relief and see Kean doing the same.
“Ver stinky,” Lyric says.
Justice grins at him. “He does indeed need a stinky. Let’s see if we can help shift that, shall we?” he asks River, then starts doing a soft, gentle massage over his stomach. A few moments later, River does indeed do a stinky. A major stinky.
“Geez, how can one baby make such a smell?” Cassie complains, covering his nose.
Ernest waves his hand, and the smell vanishes. “The joys of magic.”
“My lap’s wet, I think there was a ‘poonarmie’,” Justice gripes, picking River up, and yep, there has been poo leakage.
“Oh, that’s gross,” Alfred says, screwing up his nose.
It really is, and I know it’s cheating, but at the moment I honestly don’t care - I ask my magic to clean it all up. It recoils at first, but soon both River and Justice are poop free, and River redressed.
Justice smiles at me gratefully. “Thanks.”
“Thanks, Justice,” Kean takes River. “You feel better now, Baba?”
River takes Kean’s fingers and holds them.
“Good going, Lyric, getting help for your brother. You were such a good boy,” I praise him.
Lyric grins. “Ver bet.”
“Yeah, he is, little man,” Kean says, sitting down and showing Lyric his brother. “See?”
Lyric nods and leans forward, kissing his brother’s head. “Luv Ver.”
“Us too, little man,” I say.
“They’re so cute,” Cassie says.
I look at him and grin. “Getting broody?”
He shakes his head. “Nope, just loving my nephews and nieces.”
Lyric gives a big yawn and snuggles into my chest.
“Okay, little man. We need to take you and your brother back to bed,” I say to him. “Say goodnight to everyone.”
“Night,” Lyric says.
“Say goodnight, Baba,” Kean says, waving River’s little hand.
After a round of goodnight, we leave the kitchen and walk back upstairs to our bedroom.
As we walk in, we see Lyric’s blanket on the floor by his crib, his teddy on top.
“Did you drop them there to have a soft landing?” I ask him.
