Fic: 31 Months In
Title: 31 Months In
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluffernutters
Pairings: Ten/Rose, Baby
Disclaimer: They ain't mine
A/N: Thank you again for all the awesome feedback on this. I'm really glad so many people seem to like this, as I love writing it.
Summary: Terrible Twos indeed. Granny Jackie blames me.
Under the cut
Dear Sally,
So! 31 months! Just over two and a half years old!
And you are finally using the real potty. You no longer wear nappies which are smelly and require constant changing. You tug on my hand, usually at the most inappropriate times (IE: when we're running for our lives), and say "Daddy, I need potty now."
And again, we're going to have to work on the concept of holding it in. It's important! I wish you had a bit more of my Gallifreyan genes. I don't need to go to the loo as much as you. Nor did I when I was your age.
I don't think.
Right. It was over 900 years ago. I don't remember. Sorry. I assume I didn't need to go as much as you, with my superior genes and all that. Not that your genes aren't brilliant, because let's face it. You're mine. So of course they are.
It's just that you're mostly human, which has a few disadvantages.
Don't give me that look.
We've been working on our manners recently. Hold on, that was in the royal we, and completely utterly awful. Let's try that again. Mummy and I have been trying to teach you the importance of manners. That's better. Please and thank you and may I and all of that.
It hasn't really been working out.
When you say please, it's usually at the top of your lungs and drawn out. I keep trying to explain to you that this is not really the right way to ask for something, but you just stare at me blankly and then say "PLEEAAAASE!"
Terrible Twos indeed. Granny Jackie blames me.
Your use of the word "no" has also been more abundant.
The other night, Mummy said it was time for bed, and you said "no." So I said "Sally Rose, it is time for all good little girls to go to sleep."
And you looked up at me very seriously and you said "I'm bad." And then you sat on the grated floor in the console room, crossed your arms, and pouted. When I went to pick you up, and scooted your little bum over to the service hatch of the console, and proceeded to climb down.
If there was any doubt that you were mine before, there isn't any now.
Last week, I had to go off on my own for a few days, and I left you and Mummy on Earth. I don't really think this made anyone very happy, although I know Granny Jackie was pleased to see the both of you.
This was the first time I was separated from you for any substantial amount of time, and it was really difficult.
That's strange, though. Because in my life I've left a lot of people behind, and not just for a few days, either. Your big half-brother and your half-niece (I know that's weird), and my first wife. People I've loved and been fond of and some that I've absolutely hated. Some I didn't even know very well. And I left them forever.
But leaving you only for a few days was almost like torture. I worried constantly about you. How you were getting on and if Mummy was reading you a story before bed. If Granny Jackie was forcing East Enders on you and if you'd notice that you'd forgotten The Teddy of Rassilon.
He was very well taken care of, by the way. He sat on the jump seat at the console the whole time I was gone.
I wish I could have gotten into contact with you and Mummy, but even for her super phone I was too far out of range.
It was the first time the TARDIS was silent since before you were born. I used to like that. The peace and quiet and solitude, but now it's just eerie. It makes my mind wonder to possibilities I'd rather not think on.
I was so relieved when I came back for you and you ran right past me into the TARDIS and climbed onto the jump seat and wrapped your chubby little arms around your bear. That gave me a chance to sweep Mummy up for a kiss before rushing after you and begging for some attention.
Since then, you've been following me around everywhere, your little play sonic screwdriver in one hand and The Teddy being dragged along by the other. You refuse to go to sleep until you see both me and Mummy and are satisfied we won't go far. You act as if I got lost, and it took me a bit to find my way back to you.
I guess that might be a bit true.
Your Dad,
The Doctor
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluffernutters
Pairings: Ten/Rose, Baby
Disclaimer: They ain't mine
A/N: Thank you again for all the awesome feedback on this. I'm really glad so many people seem to like this, as I love writing it.
Summary: Terrible Twos indeed. Granny Jackie blames me.
Under the cut
Dear Sally,
So! 31 months! Just over two and a half years old!
And you are finally using the real potty. You no longer wear nappies which are smelly and require constant changing. You tug on my hand, usually at the most inappropriate times (IE: when we're running for our lives), and say "Daddy, I need potty now."
And again, we're going to have to work on the concept of holding it in. It's important! I wish you had a bit more of my Gallifreyan genes. I don't need to go to the loo as much as you. Nor did I when I was your age.
I don't think.
Right. It was over 900 years ago. I don't remember. Sorry. I assume I didn't need to go as much as you, with my superior genes and all that. Not that your genes aren't brilliant, because let's face it. You're mine. So of course they are.
It's just that you're mostly human, which has a few disadvantages.
Don't give me that look.
We've been working on our manners recently. Hold on, that was in the royal we, and completely utterly awful. Let's try that again. Mummy and I have been trying to teach you the importance of manners. That's better. Please and thank you and may I and all of that.
It hasn't really been working out.
When you say please, it's usually at the top of your lungs and drawn out. I keep trying to explain to you that this is not really the right way to ask for something, but you just stare at me blankly and then say "PLEEAAAASE!"
Terrible Twos indeed. Granny Jackie blames me.
Your use of the word "no" has also been more abundant.
The other night, Mummy said it was time for bed, and you said "no." So I said "Sally Rose, it is time for all good little girls to go to sleep."
And you looked up at me very seriously and you said "I'm bad." And then you sat on the grated floor in the console room, crossed your arms, and pouted. When I went to pick you up, and scooted your little bum over to the service hatch of the console, and proceeded to climb down.
If there was any doubt that you were mine before, there isn't any now.
Last week, I had to go off on my own for a few days, and I left you and Mummy on Earth. I don't really think this made anyone very happy, although I know Granny Jackie was pleased to see the both of you.
This was the first time I was separated from you for any substantial amount of time, and it was really difficult.
That's strange, though. Because in my life I've left a lot of people behind, and not just for a few days, either. Your big half-brother and your half-niece (I know that's weird), and my first wife. People I've loved and been fond of and some that I've absolutely hated. Some I didn't even know very well. And I left them forever.
But leaving you only for a few days was almost like torture. I worried constantly about you. How you were getting on and if Mummy was reading you a story before bed. If Granny Jackie was forcing East Enders on you and if you'd notice that you'd forgotten The Teddy of Rassilon.
He was very well taken care of, by the way. He sat on the jump seat at the console the whole time I was gone.
I wish I could have gotten into contact with you and Mummy, but even for her super phone I was too far out of range.
It was the first time the TARDIS was silent since before you were born. I used to like that. The peace and quiet and solitude, but now it's just eerie. It makes my mind wonder to possibilities I'd rather not think on.
I was so relieved when I came back for you and you ran right past me into the TARDIS and climbed onto the jump seat and wrapped your chubby little arms around your bear. That gave me a chance to sweep Mummy up for a kiss before rushing after you and begging for some attention.
Since then, you've been following me around everywhere, your little play sonic screwdriver in one hand and The Teddy being dragged along by the other. You refuse to go to sleep until you see both me and Mummy and are satisfied we won't go far. You act as if I got lost, and it took me a bit to find my way back to you.
I guess that might be a bit true.
Your Dad,
The Doctor