Emily was downstairs with tiny bowls of rice sweetened with Maribel’s special: seedless raspberry mash! The raspberries used in the mash did not need any sugar at all because they were much less tart than most varieties. It led to lot’s of smiley faces and compliments from Ken and Karen.
After breakfast, the morning went by with face wipes, followed by the physical mobiles, followed by diapers. There was also allowed some mommy-baby bonding time, which preceded nap time, and then “free time” where the couple went briefly to the internet, (yes they still called it that!) and then to each others’ passionate eyes. Lunch time was plantain bananas, again cut with milk. Physical exercise was rolling on mats again, but a little longer. For the first time in a long time Ken and Karen felt like their muscles were actually being stretched and used.
On the way upstairs to the nursery to get something out of her case, Maribel’s foot kicked a step and caused her to trip forward, banging her knee on another step. Growth spurts sneak up on you at those physical ages. Trying all she could to suppress a bawl but failing, she manged to whimper, “I’m okay Ms. T! Just give me a few minutes to get over it.”
That wasn’t going to stop Emily’s maternal instinct. She rapidly went over to comfort the 93-year-old consultant with the 9-year-old body and 9-year-old girl instincts. After kissing her forehead and stroking her shoulder, she pulled a tissue out of her pocket case and wiped Maribel’s tears.
“You are so very kind, Ms. T, thank you.” sniffled Maribel.
After retrieving the materials she was going use for the babies’ dinner, it was walking time! Because the little ones couldn’t sit up yet, strollers weren’t an option. Emily Trudeau had two retro-Victorian carriages she got from an E-Bay-happy uncle. Disabling the CCVSes on the babies so as not to startle any passersby who would not be used to regenerate infants in public, Emily and Maribel each got a baby in a carriage and started pushing it outside into the sunny, unusually warm, early spring afternoon. Emily’s door and inside floor was flush with the sidewalk outside, so there were no stairs to overcome. With the shades over their tiny eyes, the two could just enjoy laying back and watching the clouds, trees, and the occasional baby-talking stranger’s face going by. When one commutes for decades, as Ken had, and take it for granted that one has to go outside everyday when one commutes, one does not have the perspective of someone who had not been outside a significant number of times in months. It was more than a blessing to be able to just enjoy the ride. Ken, pushed by mommy, got a tear in his eye at the thought. It was no baby-needs tear, it was a deep tear from his adult inside of him.
Dinner time was sweet potato, which was milked down and mashed by Maribel and her own mom. It was a little bit happier on the taste buds for the tiny clients but not so much on the tummies, as it was still a tiny bit dense, just like the durians and plantains, so bib cleanups were in order. Loving them herself, Maribel had packed some whole sweet potatoes with a bag of marshmallows and spice packets, so that is what she and Ms. T. had for dinner as well. Ms. T’s and her’s were baked into sweet-potato spuds.
Bath time, diapers, mobiles time, mommy time, and bed time concluded the evening. And the evening and the morning were the second day.