-
-
a/n: Ok, so a few things sort of came up in my mind while writing this part. One, it was fairly clear that the Kents kept Clark a little isolated from everyone, which was normal for parents trying to protect a child who was different. I'm not sure exactly when they let Clark go to school, but I'm guessing they home-schooled him for a couple of years, otherwise it seems odd to me that he would get to third grade, or whenever it was, and not see Lana before then. Especially as they lived a mile apart. Of course, it could have something to do with Nell, whom I suspect was a bit of a gossip and given her attitude (not to mention jealousy) toward Martha, I'm not surprised they had little to do with her.
Two, Clark's a smart kid. At three, I don't think it would have taken very long for him to learn English at all, so I have him starting to speak it after only two months, although at this point, he's more or less repeating what his parents say without much comprehension.
Three, while this series is primarily about Martha and Jonathan's relationship, raising Clark is a big part of that and I wanted to explore their p.o.v.s on Clark's firsts. So, of course, this is Clark's first Christmas. Yes, I am aware it's July, but I'm writing these snippets chronologically and I didn't want to wait until December to post the next installment.
Four, I think it would be rather odd to pretend that Clark automatically knows little things like toilet training, let alone how to control his strength, yet don't you think it's also odd that a child who is strong enough to lift up a heavy oak bed knows to control himself enough that he doesn't step through floorboards or knock Martha over when he runs up to her in Lineage? I'm sure someone would have a scientific explanation, but personally, I think the ship was running some kind of assimilation program through Clark's journey, teaching him control, since it's fairly obvious he wasn't placed in stasis like Kara was, otherwise he'd still be a tiny baby in the pod when Martha and Jonathan find him.
First Christmas
Christmas was usually a quiet holiday in the Kent household, but Jonathan had decided that since this was Clark’s first Christmas, he was going to make it a memorable one for his son. He had gone out to the back forty and cut down a pine tree, taking it back home and installing it in the parlour.
Clark was fascinated with the huge tree. He’d just started talking, although he wasn’t quite up to actual English yet, and he babbled happily as he watched his father struggle valiantly with the huge tree, making sure it was balanced in the stand.
Martha came downstairs, lugging a huge box.
“I found these in the attic,” she said, brushing her hair back. Jonathan smiled at his wife, then reached over, picking up a cobweb which had become caught in her long hair. He took the box from her, putting it down on the floor then kneeling down to open it up.
Clark toddled over, getting down on his knees and placing his hand in the box.
“Careful son,” Jonathan told him gently, not wanting to scold the little boy who didn’t know how to control his peculiar strength yet. There had been a couple of accidents in the two months he’d been with them. Luckily so far he’d only crushed a toy when he’d picked it up and broken an egg when he’d tried to help his father gather the eggs from the chickens. He’d been upset about both incidents but they’d comforted him, telling him it was okay. No harm had been done.
It had occurred to Jonathan to wonder exactly what had happened inside the ship during the boy’s journey through space. He would have thought it would be too easy for Clark to have put his foot through a floorboard, considering his strength, or put his hand through a wall, yet he seemed to instinctively understand how not to do such things.
He was clearly learning fast. Jonathan would look at his son sometimes and practically see the wheels turning in the child’s head as he figured things out. He already knew how to turn on a faucet and he was already resisting his mother’s attempts to dress him in suitable clothes.
There were plenty of other things that Jonathan assumed were perfectly natural for a child Clark’s age. He was old enough to have learned toilet-training, but young enough to need pull-ups and there had been a couple of overnight accidents. Still, that was totally normal, according to the books Martha had read.
Clark picked up a gold-coloured bauble, holding it carefully in his small hand. He sent a questioning look to his father and babbled.
“I made that in grade school,” Jonathan said, holding it up for his wife to see. She bent down, smiling at Clark.
“Why don’t you help Daddy put it on the tree,” she suggested.
Clark looked at her, then at his father. Jonathan stood up, picking his son up and held out the bauble. He moved toward the tree and handed the bauble to Clark, making sure he held it by the string, then guided his son’s small hand to the tree.
Slowly they worked together to decorate the tree with Martha handing them each decoration. Finally, she handed him the star. Jonathan smiled at his son.
“What do you think, Clark? Shall we put it on the top of the tree?”
Clark grinned and nodded his head. Jonathan reached up and placed it at the top. Luckily the tree wasn’t much taller than him, since he’d opted for a seven footer rather than the nine footer he’d seen on the property.
Martha wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled down at their son.
“Doesn’t the tree look beautiful, Clark? You and Daddy did a great job.”
Clark nodded and clapped his hands. His mouth worked as if he was trying to say something, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Martha took his hand. “Can you say Daddy?” she asked.
“Dee,” he replied.
Well, it was close enough, Jonathan thought.
Two days later it was Christmas Eve. As much as they wanted to go to Mass, Martha thought it wasn’t such a good idea. Especially since Clark was so young. She reasoned that people might ask too many questions and Clark might find it all a little disconcerting.
They hadn’t had too many visitors to the farm as yet. Most people in town knew they kept pretty much to themselves, but word had quickly spread of Clark’s adoption. Nell had, of course, called to ask when they were going to bring Clark into town, Martha had told her that she didn’t think it was a good idea as Clark was still getting used to them.
Nell seemed to have taken that as a personal affront. Jonathan didn’t know any other way it could have been said. They just didn’t know how they were supposed to keep Clark’s strange ability a secret since their son was too little to understand what it all meant.
Christmas Eve night, Clark was acting hyper. He’d picked up on Martha’s excitement of their first Christmas with their first child and as much as Jonathan wanted to scold his son, he couldn’t help but be just as excited, thinking of Clark opening his gifts the next day.
Clark zoomed past him, giggling as his mother pursued him. Jonathan had to laugh. Clark was butt naked. Martha had taken him upstairs for his bath but the boy had obviously slipped past her.
“You come back here, young man!” she was calling out, her voice full of amusement.
Clark again moved to pass him and Jonathan reached out, grabbing the giggling toddler and hoisting him in his arms.
“Whoa buddy, where do you think you’re going?”
“Play Daddeee!”
Jonathan almost dropped his son in shock as Clark uttered those words. Martha practically skidded to a stop, staring at their son in surprise. Clark giggled at the reaction.
“Play Daddeee!” he said again, squirming in Jonathan’s arms.
Jonathan laughed and threw his son up in the air, catching him and hugging him tightly.
“Oh no, buddy, Daddy can’t play. It’s bathtime then you have to go to bed or else Santa Claus won’t come.”
Clark looked at him, his brow furrowed as he tried to process the information. He let Jonathan carry him back upstairs to the bath.
Martha stood and watched as her husband chattered to Clark, who babbled back. She couldn’t help smiling at the sounds her precious boy was making. She didn’t mind that he’d learned to say ‘Daddy’ first. It was only a matter of time before he began to say ‘Mommy’, given the speed he was learning English.
Jonathan turned his head and looked at her, his eyes twinkling. He clearly loved being a father and adored their little boy. It was a big change from two months ago when they’d both been so unsure of how to deal with this strange child. Now Martha knew her husband would do anything to protect their son.
She picked up a huge fluffy towel as Jonathan lifted Clark out of the bath and wrapped the toddler in it. He squirmed, clearly still wanting to play. Martha dried him off quickly and dressed him in flannel pyjamas. She’d found a pattern in a book and had made up the pyjamas using some material she had had left over from making a couple of work shirts for Jonathan. Maybe they weren’t fashionable, but it was less expensive than buying them from the local store. The farm was just making ends meet and they didn’t really have a lot of money for luxuries, so she had to make do.
She often wondered whether she should contact her parents and see if they would help out financially, but she knew Jonathan wouldn’t go for it. She loved her husband but he could be a stubborn ass at times. There was also the fact that her parents would probably want to get to know Clark and she wasn’t willing to risk them knowing about Clark’s origins. Her mother would most likely take it in stride, but her father would ask too many questions for which she didn’t have answers.
Jonathan helped Clark brush his teeth and took him out to his bedroom. Martha followed, again watching as her husband deposited the toddler on the bed and pulled back the covers.
“In you get, son,” he said. “How about we read a story?”
Clark nodded enthusiastically. He pointed to the bookshelf. They had managed to get a few books at a sale, including The Velveteen Rabbit, which was fast becoming Clark’s favourite. Jonathan went to the shelf, his hand hovering beside that book, but he chose instead to pick up The Night Before Christmas.
Martha sat in the chair beside the bed, loving the little ritual they were developing as Jonathan settled on the bed with Clark practically in his lap. The little boy was riveted as her husband opened the book and began to read.
“Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse …”
Martha stroked her son’s dark head as his eyelids began to droop. As much as he was trying to fight it, he was getting sleepy. Jonathan hadn’t even finished when Clark fell asleep.
She leaned over and kissed her baby goodnight, giving her husband a soft, loving smile as he did the same, tucking the blankets around the sleeping child.
Hand in hand, they crept quietly out of the room and back down the stairs. Martha poured them each a glass of egg nog - homemade, of course - and they sat on the sofa, watching the coloured lights twinkling on the Christmas tree.
Martha could still remember wishing each Christmas since she and Jonathan had married that they would soon share the holiday with their own child, and been disappointed when yet again that wish hadn’t been fulfilled. Last Christmas she hadn’t made the wish, but somehow she had been granted that miracle anyway.
Tomorrow, Clark would open his gifts and probably make a mess in the process. Jonathan would probably give her something he’d either made himself or some bauble he probably thought she would fancy, but none of that really mattered. She already had her gift, she thought, silently thanking whatever power had deemed she was worthy of such a gift.
Jonathan gave her a one-armed hug, kissing her gently.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said.
“Merry Christmas,” she returned, relaxing in the comfort of his embrace, closing her eyes and dreaming of their first Christmas as a family and of the many Christmases to come.Comment
-
Oh Leanne you are a mind reader! I've often thought about what Clark's early years would have been like. And I think you're right that he wouldn't know about stuff like toilet training but would have to have a basic understanding of how to move without destroying everything he touches. Plus i like to think that part of the reason Clark is an 'outcast' would be that yes he was home schooled for awhile and therefore it would be harder for him to form friendships, especially in a small (minded) town. But oh how cute us he??????? And seriously, running naked through the house? Such a boy thing! They have no shame, believe me! I'm so looking forward to more.Comment
-
Secret Mission
Jonathan left his wife sleeping and tip-toed quietly out of the bedroom, moving down the hall to his son’s room. He heard sounds coming from the room and opened the door, grinning as he realised his son was sitting up in bed, playing with the wooden tractor Jonathan had given him for Christmas. It was adorable the way Clark was making the sounds of the tractor engine.
Clark looked up.
“Hi Daddy,” he said.
Jonathan put a finger to his lips. “Shh,” he said. “Don’t wake Mommy.”
“Why?” Clark asked, raising his eyebrows. “Why Mommy sleepin’?”
Jonathan crept into the room and found a pair of jeans and a shirt for Clark.
“Remember?” Jonathan said. “You and I are going on a secret mission.”
Clark nodded, his green eyes dancing with excitement. He reached for his dad, raising his little arms.
“Let’s get you dressed, son. Then we’ll go brush your teeth.”
“Okay,” the boy replied.
It took ten minutes to get the boy ready, only because he tended to dawdle over brushing his teeth, making sure he got every tooth. Jonathan didn’t mind, however. Even after more than six months, he still found joy in those little things, knowing just how happy his wife was now that she had the one thing she had always wanted.
He still remembered what she had confessed to him the day they’d found Clark.
“I see a little face. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
If Jonathan had to be honest, it was all he’d ever wanted too. To be able to pass a legacy to his child, even if that child chose not to be a farmer. Given Clark’s unique abilities, Jonathan was sure whatever his destiny, it would be something great.
“Ready Clark?” he asked, taking his son’s hand.
Together, they made their way downstairs and out to the truck. It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was warm, but since it was still early, it hadn’t reached its peak as yet.
Jonathan lifted Clark into the cab, getting in beside him and starting the engine.
“How come Mommy don’t come?” Clark asked.
His speech was still a little stilted, but no more than any three-year-old, or almost three, Jonathan thought. He had about the same vocabulary as any child his age.
They still hadn’t thought about putting him in preschool. Martha was still reluctant to let Clark out of her sight and truth be told, Jonathan wasn’t sure Clark could keep the secret of his peculiar strength. Martha seemed happy enough teaching Clark to read, sitting in the rocking chair with him on her lap as she showed him his letters.
Jonathan smiled proudly. His little boy was the smartest, cutest little boy he’d ever seen. Okay, so he was biased, but how many other kids his age could already read and count? It wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t care.
As he drove, he explained to his son about this particular day and what it meant. Clark listened attentively, nodding as if he understood every word his dad was saying.
Jonathan thought about the past few months. Clark would sometimes come out when he was working and try to help. While Jonathan was careful not to allow the other workers on the farm to see Clark using his abilities, he didn’t mind when his son ‘helped’ by picking up hay bales. One day, he would teach Clark everything about being a farmer.
He smiled as he recalled one afternoon when he’d been out in the field, checking on the stock. It had been not long after the first snowfall. Clark had been fascinated with the snow, running around, picking it up with his bare hands. He was growing wetter by the second but didn’t seem to notice, having the time of his life.
Oh to see everything through a child’s eyes, Jonathan thought as he glanced down at his son. Clark viewed every new thing with a fascination that Jonathan envied. He often wondered what kind of world the little boy had come from and whether he had any memory of it. Just how old had he been when he had been sent away from everything he ever knew?
Jonathan assumed Clark had been very young as he couldn’t imagine the boy coming from any planet within their solar system.
He pulled up and parked the truck in a space beside the common, getting out and waiting for Clark to jump out. He looked around warily, not really expecting to see anyone he knew in Granville. He supposed he could have gone to the market in Smallville, but he had wanted to avoid running into Nell especially, who had been asking more questions than Jonathan could really answer about Clark.
“Come on, son,” he said, taking the little boy’s hand. Clark happily walked alongside him, singing a little song that was clearly his own interpretation of a popular song he must have heard on the radio as the words were garbled.
Jonathan spotted the stall he wanted and made a beeline for it, barely remembering to shorten his strides so his little boy could keep up. Just as he went to grab what he wanted, he heard a little boy’s voice.
“This one, Daddy,” he said.
Jonathan looked around and smiled tightly. Bill Ross was with his youngest son, Pete, who was just a few months older than Clark, at least by the age on Clark’s birth certificate. Jonathan still felt guilty for persuading Bill to sell the creamed corn plant to Lionel Luthor. Especially after the Metropolis business tycoon had made the not-so-subtle threat about Clark’s ‘adoption’.
“Hey, Jonathan,” Bill said.
The two little boys eyed each other warily.
“Pete, be nice,” Bill warned his son as the two boys continued to size each other up. “So,” he said, smiling up at Jonathan. “This is Clark.”
“Yep.”
“Cute little fella. How old is he?”
“He’ll be three next week,” Jonathan told him.
“That so?” Bill’s attention was caught by the chocolate-skinned boy, who was clearly trying to convince Clark to play with him. “Pete, you don’t have time to play. Your mom will be up soon.”
Jonathan grinned, noticing the package in Bill's hand. “Guess you forgot huh?”
Bill groaned. “Yeah. Seem to forget every year. Say, you hear what’s happened at the plant?”
Jonathan nodded. Lionel had closed down the plant, firing all the workers. While he wasn’t happy with the way the man had gone about it, he could understand on another level. The plant was run down and hadn’t been making a profit for years. Lionel had announced he was going to gut the plant and redevelop it into a fertiliser plant. It wasn’t a popular move and the way he had gone about it hadn’t won him any favours from the few remaining employees who still had families to feed. Smallville was a small town and unemployment was high.
“Well, we should get a move on,” Jonathan said.
Bill nodded. “Yeah, me too.” He took Pete’s hand and began walking away.
Clark was looking up at the contents of the stall.
“Which one, Clark?” Jonathan asked. His son pointed.
“That one, Daddy.”
“That one?” he echoed. Clark nodded his confirmation.
With a grin, Jonathan handed over the money.
Martha normally didn’t sleep late. She was usually up around the crack of dawn, getting some of the early chores done before breakfast. This morning, however, she realised she had overslept by a couple of hours.
She frowned, wondering why Jonathan hadn’t woken her, or why she had slept through the alarm. She rolled over, feeling the bed. Her husband had clearly been up for a while as his side of the bed was cool. She glanced at the alarm clock and realised it had been turned off.
That was strange.
She got up out of bed and put on a robe, walking down the hallway to her son’s room. The door was wide open and he was nowhere to be seen. His bed was made and his little tractor his father had made for him was sitting on the nightstand.
Where had those two rascals got to, she thought.
She was sure she had seen them whispering together in the barn a few days earlier, then Jonathan had taken Clark on some mysterious errand. They’d returned a couple of hours later with parts for the tractor, but Martha was sure they had picked up something else too. Clark had a mischievous expression and he looked as if he was about to blurt out something until his father had pulled him away.
She couldn’t help thinking over the past few months and how happy Jonathan was now that he had a son to spoil. Despite the bumpy beginning and the worry over Clark’s strange ability, Jonathan had embraced fatherhood completely, taking Clark out on the tractor. Martha remembered when Clark had seen his first snowfall. How fascinated he had been with the snow. He would have played in it for hours if she’d let him.
A normal child would be shivering from playing in the snow without a coat, but Clark didn’t seem to be cold at all, even when Jonathan had brought him indoors, his clothes wet through. It was just another thing that stood Clark apart from other children his age, but as far as Martha was concerned, it just made him more special to her.
She loved sitting in the rocking chair with him, reading to him and watching as he absorbed the story, learning new words. He talked as much as any other child now and she loved the way he chattered as if he’d always been talking. She especially loved hearing him call her ‘Mommy’. It was a word she had once despaired of ever hearing.
Martha made her way downstairs, frowning at the sounds coming from the kitchen. She heard Clark chattering and the clink of china. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached her. Jonathan was making breakfast, she assumed. She would usually cook breakfast, even on a Sunday, but since she’d slept late …
She entered the kitchen and stopped, her mouth opening in shock. Jonathan had not only made blueberry pancakes for breakfast - her favourite, but Clark was helping him, standing on a stool next to his father. The kitchen was a mess. Batter had been spilled, and the bag of flour had somehow split, leaving the powdery substance everywhere.
“Martha!”
“Mommy!”
“Hi sweetie,” Martha said, picking up her son. He had batter on his nose and a blueberry stain on his lips. “What’s all this?”
“Breakfast,” Jonathan replied.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked.
“You are,” he said.
She frowned at him, not comprehending. He put the plate he was holding on the counter and guided her into the dining room. There was a white vase in the middle of the table filled with red tulips. Again, her favourites. In front of her place at the table was a gaily wrapped gift and an envelope, just about the right size for a card.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Jonathan grinned at her. Clark gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
“Happy Mommies Day, Mommy.”
“Oh my goodness!” she said, mentally checking the date. It was Mother’s Day! Her first Mother’s Day.
Jonathan picked up their son and plopped in his chair. Clark had a special pillow on the chair that let him sit at the table and be able to see over the top.
“Read the card, Mommy,” Clark told her.
Martha opened the card. It was just a normal Mother’s Day card, but inside was a message from her loving husband and Clark had even signed it himself. The lettering was clumsy and lopsided, but none of that mattered to her.
“So this is what you two have been up to,” she said.
“Yep,” Jonathan said, grinning mischievously. He leaned over and kissed her. “Nice to know I can still surprise you, sweetheart.”
“Oh you can. You definitely can,” she said, grinning at her small son.
She would have many more Mother’s Days in the future but this one … this one she would cherish forever.Comment
-
Awww lovely. Loving each of these vignettes into their earlier life especially with Clark. So sweet, Jonathan and Clark wanting to cook breakfast for her, can imagine the mess in the kitchen.
Well written as always Leanne.Comment
-
Awwwww Leanne that was soooooo cute. I love the way you write little Clark and the Kents too. And yes children in the kitchen equals bomb site! Even when they are teenagers!!!
Interesting take on Johnathon's thoughts on the creamed corn plant too, realising that it wasn't profitable and that was why Lionel closed it down, even if he didn't like it. And little Pete eyeing up Clark, adorable.
Its good to see you back mate.Comment
-
I love writing these moments, especially the 'firsts'. Clark is adorable as a toddler (in my head at least).
Heh, I can remember helping with the baking and creating quite a mess while I was at it. The little bit with the creamed corn plant was just something I figured would have happened. Pete used to resent Lex for the way his father screwed over the town, but I used to think he had blinders on. I can see it from Lionel's point of view - why would he keep something open that wasn't making a profit. He is first and foremost a businessman, so any promises he made to the Rosses would have had little sway over his decision. As for that first meeting between Clark and Pete, I thought it would be a cool way to introduce them.Comment
-
a/n: Canon tends to mix up dates, especially with birthdays. I figured Clark's birthday is around the 14th or 15th of May, so for the purposes of these vignettes, his birthday is on the 15th of May, which is two days after the previous vignette. (Mother's Day was on the 13th of May in 1990)
I feel bad we never had parties when you were little, but we were always so nervous.
It's okay, Mom, I understand.
I know, but what mother denies her son a birthday party? It's a huge part of childhood.
First Birthday
“Hello sweetheart.”
Martha looked up from the recipe she had been busy frowning at. Normally, she didn’t have a problem with baking, but this was different. This was a birthday cake recipe and she couldn’t decide between making it chocolate or vanilla with lemon frosting.
Jonathan went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of milk, tipping it up to drink from it.
“Jonathan Kent! You know you’re not supposed to drink from the bottle,” she scolded
He grinned at her, totally unrepentant. She rolled her eyes at him.
“What kind of example do you think you’re setting to Clark when you do that?” she admonished him.
He had clearly decided it was better not to comment at all, leaning over her shoulder to look at what she was doing.
“It’s a birthday cake for Clark,” she said.
“Chocolate,” he replied, obviously understanding her dilemma. “He likes chocolate.”
“Chocolate it is then,” she agreed, going to the pantry to get her ingredients. She paused, sighing. “You know, I feel a little …”
“What?”
“Guilty. I feel guilty.”
“Why’s that, sweetheart?”
“Because every child should have a birthday party. All we’re doing is giving Clark a cake and some presents.”
“Honey, you know why that is,” he reminded her gently.
They’d talked about it over the past few weeks when they’d realised the date they’d picked to be Clark’s birthday on his adoption certificate was coming up. Clark was too little to understand that he needed to keep his abilities a secret. He might be smart, but keeping secrets wasn’t easy for a child his age.
While he seemed to have control for the most part, there had been an incident the week before which illustrated exactly why they were forced to keep him isolated. Like any toddler, Clark was bound to have little tantrums, especially when he wanted something and was told ‘no’. Martha couldn’t even recall what had started it, but her son had angrily stomped off, yelling about the injustice of it, in his own way, then punched a hole in the wall in the living room.
Jonathan had immediately picked the boy up and taken him up to his room, telling him to stay there until dinner time. While it hadn’t been amusing at the time, Martha could recall with a smile her two boys exchanging words. Clark’s speech had been pretty much unintelligible babble, but the tone had been furious. Jonathan had been equally furious, launching into a tirade that the three-year-old probably wouldn’t have understood. There were times when father and son were very much alike; Martha guessed Clark was just learning from his dad’s behaviours.
Speaking of Clark, she thought.
“Where is he?” she asked.
Jonathan had grabbed a cookie from the jar and was standing at the window as he munched on it, looking out over the field.
“Take a look,” he said, sounding amused.
Martha followed his gaze. Clark was out in the field, chasing the cows, or trying to at least, while the cows were ignoring him. She had no idea what game he was playing but judging from the big grin on his face, he was having a ball.
She turned to go back to her baking, becoming absorbed in her task. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but she had most of the batter mixed when the screen door slammed and Clark came running in.
“Daddy, come play.”
Jonathan had decided to fix up the hole in the wall, but stopped in his task to laugh at his son. Martha looked up to see what he was laughing at and couldn’t help laughing herself. Clark was filthy. His clothes were muddy and his face was caked with dirt.
“You need a bath, kiddo.”
“Wanna play!” Clark replied, jumping up and down and giggling.
With a grin, Jonathan scooped him up in his arms and carried him upstairs.
“We can play in the bath with your battleships,” he said. “How does that sound?”
“Yay!”
Martha laughed quietly to herself, remembering when Jonathan had bought the little battleships. He’d been like a little kid in a candy store, exclaiming with delight over the detail in the ships. She had wondered at the time if he was buying them for Clark’s benefit or his. Their son loved his baths and didn’t really need toys to keep him amused.
The next day, the day they’d chosen for Clark’s birthday, dawned fine and warm. It wasn’t quite up to summer temperatures, but it was warm enough.
Martha had finished the cake and iced it the night before, after Clark had gone to bed. She still wished they had been able to invite some other children, but realised it was for the best. Maybe in a couple of years, she thought.
Jonathan came in, having been out doing the usual morning chores, clearly amused at something Clark was doing. They’d recently taken on a new farmhand, Earl Jenkins. While they were still careful to ensure that Clark wasn’t caught using his abilities, he had begun following the farmhand around as the older man worked. Earl didn’t seem to mind the endless chatter from the little boy. Jonathan reported that Clark was sitting on a haybale in the barn, watching Earl work. The older man was singing a pop song that was playing on the radio and Clark was doing his best to warble along with him. Badly, Jonathan added.
“How are we doing, sweetheart?” he asked, eyeing the cake.
Martha had decorated the cake with sprinkles and added the words, ‘Happy Birthday Clark’. It wasn’t anything fancy, but she figured Clark wouldn’t really care.
“Can you get the presents, honey?” she asked.
Jonathan nodded and ran upstairs, while she found the little pack of candles they’d bought from the grocery store and placed three on the cake.
She went outside and stood on the porch.
“Clark!” she called.
A little head of curly black hair popped out from the doorway of the barn. Her son grinned at her.
“Come here,” she said.
He shook his head, clearly wanting to keep watching Earl.
“Clark Jerome Kent, you get in here right now!”
He frowned at her, his eyes widening. Maybe he had only been with them seven months but even he knew when she used his full name he was in trouble. He ran to her.
“Mommy!”
“Don’t even start,” she scolded him. “Come inside.”
“But …”
“Now, young man.”
Of course his eyes widened for a different reason when he saw what was waiting for him at the table. Jonathan had lit the candles and placed the cake on the table, along with Clark’s presents.
Clark seemed confused. “Mommy? What’s that?”
“It’s your birthday cake, son,” Jonathan said. He picked up the toddler and plopped him on his chair.
“Happy birthday sweetie,” Martha said.
He stared in fascination at the candles, then reached out as if to touch the flame. Martha gently pulled his hand away.
“No sweetie, not like that. First you have to make a wish and then you blow the candles out.”
“What’s a wish?”
“Remember that movie we were watching, sweetie?” she reminded him. They’d been watching an old Disney movie after lunch on Sunday - Mother’s Day. “Think of something you really, really want, but don’t tell me or Daddy.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because if you tell us your wish, it won’t come true,” his father replied. “It’s a secret.”
Clark still didn’t seem to understand, but figured it was some kind of game. Martha watched as Jonathan showed Clark what to do. They sang ‘Happy Birthday’ and clapped as Clark blew out the candles.
The cake was eaten and Clark was happily playing with all the new toys he’d been given, spreading them out over the living room floor. Martha watched her son for a while as Jonathan cleaned up the kitchen. He came out and wrapped his arms around her waist.
Maybe it wasn’t the birthday party she thought Clark should have had, but he’d clearly enjoyed himself just the same.
“Okay, sweetheart?” Jonathan asked.
She nodded, her gaze locked on her precious little boy. Sometimes it was still hard for her to believe he was really hers. She recalled the day in Nell’s shop when she had wished for a child of her own. Maybe Lana’s game had been just that, but something magical had happened that day.
Clark looked up from his toys and smiled at her.
“Mommy, look,” he said, one hand on the little fire truck they’d found in the toystore.
Martha went to him, sitting down on the floor with him. Clark pushed the fire truck toward her, clearly wanting her to play.
“Want to have a race?” she asked, seeing he had a toy car in his hand.
He nodded and smiled happily. She placed the truck beside the car. Race positions.
“Okay, ready, set, go!” And they were off.Last edited by phoenixnz; 10-29-2016, 06:29 PM.Comment
-
Awwwww Leanne..........you know I'm a sucker for baby Clark! That was so sweet. I loved that you remembered Earl too, and of course poor little baby Clark sings off key too huh?Comment
-
a/n: This is based off the final scene from Vengeance.
The Day of the Tractor
There were often times when Martha still had to pinch herself when she looked at the beautiful dark-haired boy who was her son. Her father had told her when she was a child that if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. Clark was literally out of this world but he was still her precious little man, for at five he was growing up so fast.
She would often pull out the photo albums and smile fondly at the pictures of Clark in the bath, or running around the farm. She would giggle to herself as she thought of pulling out the album on his twenty-first birthday and showing his girlfriend, whoever she may be, the photos of a three-year-old naked Clark. Of course, said girlfriend would have to know who or what Clark really was. Otherwise the photo of Clark naked in the snow would look more than a little odd.
Martha could still remember the times Clark would tear off his pyjamas, refusing to wear them, even though the temperature outside was freezing. It was just one more little oddity about her son that she couldn’t reveal to others. He didn’t seem to feel the cold like most people.
So far, other than that and his unusual strength, Clark hadn’t really shown any major differences. He no longer uttered words in that odd language he’d used when he’d first come to live with them. Martha supposed it had been inevitable, really. After all, there was no one else like him around so it would be completely natural for him to have forgotten his native language.
Once they had been assured he could control himself and had learnt not to show his abilities to others, Jonathan had taken him to the park in town. Usually, Pete Ross, their friend Bill’s youngest son, would be there as well and the two boys would play in the sandbox. Clark was already referring to Pete as his ‘bestest friend in the whole wide world’, which Martha found adorable.
It was strange that even after nearly three years, Clark still hadn’t met young Lana. For some odd reason, Nell, who had decided to adopt Lana after her parents’ deaths, refused to allow Lana to play with other children. At least, with those in Smallville. Nell had become even more protective of her niece since the adoption. Martha could understand that. After all, the woman had lost her sister and brother-in-law and they had been killed right in front of them. Martha could imagine the terror the other woman had felt.
Nell still ran the flower shop in town, but Martha and Jonathan rarely visited the shop. They had too many other things going on.
They were still struggling financially. The farm had seen little profit in the past few years. The recession had hit them all hard. Jonathan wanted to lay the blame solely at the feet of Lionel Luthor, but Martha, as pragmatic as she had always been, felt he was being too hard on the businessman. Sure, Lionel, from what she had heard, was fairly unscrupulous. She had lived among people like the Luthors in Metropolis and knew exactly what they were like. Had she not fallen in love with a farmer, Martha often wondered if she would have become exactly like them.
Of course, then Jonathan would remind her that deep down, she was nothing like them. Even if she was rich or married to a lawyer or doctor as her father had wanted for her, she would never be like that. It just wasn’t in her, her husband often told her.
It was moments like those that reminded Martha just how lucky she was to have found someone like Jonathan Kent. Maybe they would never have much in terms of money, but they were richer in so many other ways.
As she watched her husband drive the tractor out of the barn, while Clark stood jumping up and down in the snow in excitement, she couldn’t help but think again of how lucky they were. Clark adored his father and it was mutual.
Jonathan was grinning as he stopped the tractor and got down, coming over to her.
“Ready sweetheart?” he asked.
“For what?” she replied.
He picked up the video camera. Martha had no idea how he could have afforded it, but he’d given it to her last Christmas. She already had dozens of tapes filled with footage of their little boy and his antics. Nothing showing his abilities, however. Martha dreaded the idea of someone getting a hold of those tapes and exposing Clark to the world. So she had been careful not to film anything which showed him as anything other than a cute little boy.
Jonathan lifted Clark in his arms and carried him over to the tractor. Clark clapped his hands in glee. He’d been bugging his father about being able to go on the tractor, clearly curious about how it worked. While Jonathan of course wanted his son to inherit the farm, Martha wasn’t sure she should encourage it.
Clark was almost like a miniature of his father, preferring to wear the same style of clothing, right down to the plaid shirts. Of course, due to practicality, Martha was only too happy to allow her son to imitate his father. She often picked up the plaid flannel on sale and because it was so cheap, she could afford enough to make a shirt for her husband and a shirt for Clark as well.
Today, the five-year-old had chosen to wear a plaid shirt and blue jacket. He had reached the stage now where it wasn’t cool to have Mommy choose his clothes for him and he sometimes came up with odd combinations, but she didn’t object. Her little boy was starting to assert his independence.
“Martha, are you getting this?” Jonathan called out.
She looked up, realising Jonathan was sitting back on the tractor. Clark was sitting on his lap, his hands on the wheel of the tractor. Of course, the machine was far too heavy for Clark, even with his strength, to control, so Jonathan had one hand on the wheel.
“Here, go that way,” he guided their son. “Make a figure eight.”
“Please be careful,” Martha called.
Jonathan grinned at her, shaking his head at her tone, before calling out:
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s gonna be fine.”
Martha almost snorted. There were times when Jonathan’s antics didn’t always go to plan. She loved her husband but she knew better than to trust him at his word.
“That’s what you always say,” she shot back.
The tractor seemed to swing around and Clark frowned in concentration.
“That way?” he asked. Martha wasn’t sure which way he meant. Jonathan continued to guide him, then laughingly replied to Martha’s comment.
“What, are you kidding? This young man’s a man of steel. Look at him!” He again guided Clark with one hand on the wheel. “Make one more turn.”
Martha frowned, one eye on the camera as she recorded the scene for posterity, still wondering what he was doing.
“Where are you going?”
“I thought I’d show our son the back forty,” Jonathan replied. “After all, it’s gonna be his one day.” As he spoke he turned the tractor, then turned his head and smiled at the camera.
“Clark, wave ‘bye to Mommy, son.” He waved. “Bye bye.”
With that, he guided the tractor toward the back forty acres of the farm, slowly disappearing off camera. Martha stopped taping, her gaze following them until they disappeared.Comment
-
Leanne are you trying to make me cry???? Cause I do every time I watch that scene!
Anyway, it's so good to see you feeling good enough to write again. I hope things continue to improve.
I'm sure future Lois will enjoy little naked Clark in the snow.........too cute.Comment
-
Thanks for this, sorry not replied sooner. Especially as you have been having a tough time recently.
love this tale and really enjoy your take on little snippets of their family life, managing Clark's uniqueness but showing the happy family life and how blessed they felt with him.
again another great chapter.
take care 😊🤓Comment
- FORUM UPDATE: The KryptonSite/KSiteTV forums are still working things out for this new forum upgrade; as such, the site might be down intermittently over the next few days.
- If this is your first visit, be sure to check out the FAQ by clicking the link above. You may have to register before you can post: click the register link above to proceed. To start viewing messages, select the forum that you want to visit from the selection below.
Tweet
Comment