(My 50,000th post!) ‘3 Gunmen and a Baby’
“You can’t hold him like that, Frohike! No wonder he’s crying.” Langly chastised his friend.
Frohike awkwardly held the screaming six month old baby boy in his arms, jiggling the child slightly in an attempt to rock him.
When they had agreed to this endeavor they had not realised there would be quite so much noise involved.
Frohike moved his hands to hold the baby more securely. “Why won’t he be quiet? He’s clean and fed. He just woke up, he can’t be tired. What else if there?” He groaned.
“Maybe he’s bored?” Byers offered, leant back in his chair, hands folded, watching the scene play out in front of him.
“Maybe he wants his mom?” Langly suggested insightfuly.
Frohike flinched, “She’s busy. Anyway, we can’t call her after just half an hour. That’s just pathetic. We offered to look after him for the morning, we can’t just bail on her.”
“What do you suggest then?” Langly griped.
“I don’t know I never thought to educate myself in childcare, Langly.” Frohike grumbled, bouncing the red-faced little boy lightly. He began to shush him. The baby screamed louder.
“Give him here.” Langly reluctantly gestured for Frohike to place the baby in his arms. The child had its eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming, mouth open in mid-wail. His whole face was flushed, and his hands were held in tiny tight fists. For a few split seconds nothing changed, and then the little boy opened his big blue eyes. Suddenly the screaming quieted as he contemplated the situation.
Langly beamed down at him, “There we go. Someone loves their Uncle Langly. Don’t you, William?”
