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A/N: Okay, um...totally new to this. *blushes* I have no idea what I'm doing, so I'm just going to play along. I know Smallville is...gone *sniffles* but I still have the urge to write baby!clark. That's what you get when you start watching Smallville with only one season left. (I fail.) My writing isn't very good, I know. But it's good enough for a 13 year old to write, eh?
Baby!Clark scene!
~~~~
"Dada," Clark said sleepily.
3 year old Clark Kent had just woken up for a new day. It'd been over a week since Martha and Jonathan "adoption" to the alien child had been finalized, and already all three of them were settling into the Kent Family routine.
"Yes, Clark?" Jonathan glanced at his son over the newspaper.
"Hi," he smiled and lay his head down on the kitchen table.
"Better wake up, Clark. Or I might have to tickle you awake." Jonathan said mock threateningly.
Clark grinned at him and stabbed another piece of pancake off his plate with his fork. "Puncakes. Yummy."
"No one doesn't like your mother's cooking, Clark." Jonathan teased, trying to keep a straight face. Even though Clark didn't get the joke, Martha did. She swatted him with a dish towel.
"Are you taking him for the grand farm tour today?" Jonathan asked. At that, Clark perked up. He stared at his mommy expectantly. Although Clark had been to the barn, he hadn't been able to interact with the animals as much because of the bad weather Smallville, Kansas had been having. Not to mention the news helicopters flying all over the town since the meteor shower.
"Yes. Now that its finally stopped raining. Rainy days never seemed to be something to want to rush through, until you have an energetic Clark to keep entertained." Martha smiled.
"Stop complaining. You know you love it." Jonathan said, raising an eyebrow.
"Guilty of charge." Martha admitted. She finished cleaning up the kitchen and lifted Clark from his seat onto the counter, grabbing his little sneakers.
"I'd avoid ol' Spike." Jonathan joked, because he could tell Martha was thinking of all the things that could go wrong.
"Jon, do me a favor and don't put the image of a bull and my son closer than 5 five feet away from each other. And Clark, work with me, here." Martha said as she struggled to stop Clark's little feet from moving.
"No shoes!" he protested, fussing. He knew there was no escape from the counter, and he'd learned from experience: When in doubt, pout.
"Clark, I assure you, you will find a way to get dirty on this farm. The last thing I need is to lose yet another pair of socks. Now, let me put your shoes on."
"Clark do!" he said firmly, and Martha gave him a skeptical look. "Mama, Clark do!"
"Okay," she said uncertainly and she watched for 2 ½ minutes the toddler struggle to tie the shoelaces. "Clark, stop being like your father. I'll teach you how to tie your shoelaces a different day."
Clark sighed impatiently, and let his mother tie his shoes. Jonathan watched the whole thing in amusement. Martha set him down on the ground and Clark raced to the door, jumping up and down. "Horsey! Hooorsey, Mama!"
"Okay, okay, we're going." Martha grinned and turned to Jonathan. "Put your plate in the dishwasher. I'll see you out there." She kissed him on the cheek, and mother and son were off.
Martha smiled as her son sat in the tall green grass of the open pasture. A large tree was the only shade, and Martha was taking a moment of peace. They'd fed the chickens, seen the cows, pet the horses, and, to Clark's disappointment, avoided the bull. The little boy seemed to have a smile permanently plastered to his face, and each accomplishment he made in helping his parents with the farm, no matter how small, made his eyes shine brightly.
Clark seemed to be in deep concentration now, studying the grass. Martha smiled as he tried to catch a ladybug on a blade of grass, but it flew away before he could grab it. He huffed in exasperation and stood up. Then he grinned.
Martha turned to where he was looking at. A monarch butterfly was making its way toward them, landing on the tree. Oh, no. she thought.
Clark obviously was formulating a plan to get to it. Before Martha could say anything, however, Clark stared running, a zooming noise could be heard, and then Martha felt the tree shudder.
"Clark!" she gasped, as he realized that what he'd done. She rushed to where he'd hit. Clark was lying on his back, dazed and looking disappointed. "Sweetie, are you okay?"
She lifted him off the ground and started brushing off the leaves, grass, and dirt out of his hair and blue t-shirt. "Butterfly fast, so Clark be fast." he seemed to be quite pleased with his cleverness, despite that his plan hadn't helped.
"Clark, I'm just glad you're okay," Martha sighed and smiled, hugging him to her, kissing him on the cheek. She leaned into his warm cherubic face as he reached over her shoulder. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the butterfly flew by her red hair and Clark's chubby hand reached for it.
Instead of him grabbing it, however, the monarch butterfly landed on Clark's nose. He looked absolutely fascinated as he struggled to cross his eyes to look at it better, biting his tongue in concentration. Martha chuckled.
"I doubt that's going to work, Clark." she said. But he suddenly grabbed it in his fist, and he cheered a little before opening his fist to see that the bug unmoving. And that was the flood gate.
"It broked!" he cried, "Mama, I sorry it broked!"
Martha gently took the dead butterfly out of his hands and wiped his tears. "Its okay, Clark. Here, we can say goodbye, all right? Then we'll have some lunch and you can take a nap."
Clark nodded numbly. Martha kissed the butterfly on its wings, and motioned Clark to do the same. "Mama makes owies better by kissing them. Better now?" he asked the insect.
Martha bit her lip at the pure innocence. Clark was snuggling into Martha's shoulder, arms wrapped around her neck as she placed the insect at the bottom of the tree. "Bye-bye, butterfly," he waved.
As they began walking toward the house, Clark lifted his head off Martha's shoulder and grinned. "Can we go see bull?"
TBC? I have a sequel written about Clark disobeying his parent's wishes and fooling around with Spike.
Let me know if you'd want me to post that (assuming anyone is ever going to read this.)
Baby!Clark scene!
~~~~
"Dada," Clark said sleepily.
3 year old Clark Kent had just woken up for a new day. It'd been over a week since Martha and Jonathan "adoption" to the alien child had been finalized, and already all three of them were settling into the Kent Family routine.
"Yes, Clark?" Jonathan glanced at his son over the newspaper.
"Hi," he smiled and lay his head down on the kitchen table.
"Better wake up, Clark. Or I might have to tickle you awake." Jonathan said mock threateningly.
Clark grinned at him and stabbed another piece of pancake off his plate with his fork. "Puncakes. Yummy."
"No one doesn't like your mother's cooking, Clark." Jonathan teased, trying to keep a straight face. Even though Clark didn't get the joke, Martha did. She swatted him with a dish towel.
"Are you taking him for the grand farm tour today?" Jonathan asked. At that, Clark perked up. He stared at his mommy expectantly. Although Clark had been to the barn, he hadn't been able to interact with the animals as much because of the bad weather Smallville, Kansas had been having. Not to mention the news helicopters flying all over the town since the meteor shower.
"Yes. Now that its finally stopped raining. Rainy days never seemed to be something to want to rush through, until you have an energetic Clark to keep entertained." Martha smiled.
"Stop complaining. You know you love it." Jonathan said, raising an eyebrow.
"Guilty of charge." Martha admitted. She finished cleaning up the kitchen and lifted Clark from his seat onto the counter, grabbing his little sneakers.
"I'd avoid ol' Spike." Jonathan joked, because he could tell Martha was thinking of all the things that could go wrong.
"Jon, do me a favor and don't put the image of a bull and my son closer than 5 five feet away from each other. And Clark, work with me, here." Martha said as she struggled to stop Clark's little feet from moving.
"No shoes!" he protested, fussing. He knew there was no escape from the counter, and he'd learned from experience: When in doubt, pout.
"Clark, I assure you, you will find a way to get dirty on this farm. The last thing I need is to lose yet another pair of socks. Now, let me put your shoes on."
"Clark do!" he said firmly, and Martha gave him a skeptical look. "Mama, Clark do!"
"Okay," she said uncertainly and she watched for 2 ½ minutes the toddler struggle to tie the shoelaces. "Clark, stop being like your father. I'll teach you how to tie your shoelaces a different day."
Clark sighed impatiently, and let his mother tie his shoes. Jonathan watched the whole thing in amusement. Martha set him down on the ground and Clark raced to the door, jumping up and down. "Horsey! Hooorsey, Mama!"
"Okay, okay, we're going." Martha grinned and turned to Jonathan. "Put your plate in the dishwasher. I'll see you out there." She kissed him on the cheek, and mother and son were off.
Martha smiled as her son sat in the tall green grass of the open pasture. A large tree was the only shade, and Martha was taking a moment of peace. They'd fed the chickens, seen the cows, pet the horses, and, to Clark's disappointment, avoided the bull. The little boy seemed to have a smile permanently plastered to his face, and each accomplishment he made in helping his parents with the farm, no matter how small, made his eyes shine brightly.
Clark seemed to be in deep concentration now, studying the grass. Martha smiled as he tried to catch a ladybug on a blade of grass, but it flew away before he could grab it. He huffed in exasperation and stood up. Then he grinned.
Martha turned to where he was looking at. A monarch butterfly was making its way toward them, landing on the tree. Oh, no. she thought.
Clark obviously was formulating a plan to get to it. Before Martha could say anything, however, Clark stared running, a zooming noise could be heard, and then Martha felt the tree shudder.
"Clark!" she gasped, as he realized that what he'd done. She rushed to where he'd hit. Clark was lying on his back, dazed and looking disappointed. "Sweetie, are you okay?"
She lifted him off the ground and started brushing off the leaves, grass, and dirt out of his hair and blue t-shirt. "Butterfly fast, so Clark be fast." he seemed to be quite pleased with his cleverness, despite that his plan hadn't helped.
"Clark, I'm just glad you're okay," Martha sighed and smiled, hugging him to her, kissing him on the cheek. She leaned into his warm cherubic face as he reached over her shoulder. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the butterfly flew by her red hair and Clark's chubby hand reached for it.
Instead of him grabbing it, however, the monarch butterfly landed on Clark's nose. He looked absolutely fascinated as he struggled to cross his eyes to look at it better, biting his tongue in concentration. Martha chuckled.
"I doubt that's going to work, Clark." she said. But he suddenly grabbed it in his fist, and he cheered a little before opening his fist to see that the bug unmoving. And that was the flood gate.
"It broked!" he cried, "Mama, I sorry it broked!"
Martha gently took the dead butterfly out of his hands and wiped his tears. "Its okay, Clark. Here, we can say goodbye, all right? Then we'll have some lunch and you can take a nap."
Clark nodded numbly. Martha kissed the butterfly on its wings, and motioned Clark to do the same. "Mama makes owies better by kissing them. Better now?" he asked the insect.
Martha bit her lip at the pure innocence. Clark was snuggling into Martha's shoulder, arms wrapped around her neck as she placed the insect at the bottom of the tree. "Bye-bye, butterfly," he waved.
As they began walking toward the house, Clark lifted his head off Martha's shoulder and grinned. "Can we go see bull?"
TBC? I have a sequel written about Clark disobeying his parent's wishes and fooling around with Spike.
Let me know if you'd want me to post that (assuming anyone is ever going to read this.)
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