Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training, Part 2
1 month old
“Pbbbt.”
Spock paused in writing his report to attempt to identify the strange sound he’d heard emanating from the bathroom. He listened. There was a large, noisy intake of breath and then, “Pbbbbbbbbt,” followed by a small laugh. Curious, he stood and went to the door. He watched Kirk inhale and bend over to press his lips to Syvek’s bare abdomen where he laid on the changing table. Kirk then exhaled, buzzing his lips on the infant’s belly and eliciting a loud giggle.
“Jim?”
Kirk straightened and turned to Spock with a huge grin on his face.
“Hey! Isn’t his laugh adorable?” He turned back to Syvek and cooed, “Yes it is! Your laugh is so cute!” He leaned down and touched their noses together, laughing when his son grabbed at his nose.
“What is the purpose of such an action on your port, Jim?”
Kirk shrugged. “I just like to see him smile. And it’s easier to change a happy baby’s diaper.” He handed Syvek to Spock and washed his hands, meeting Spock’s eyes in the mirror and saying, “It’s time for me to get to work.” After drying, he kissed both of his boys and strode out of the rooms.
...........
Kirk entered his quarters after his shift to relieve Spock and send him to his own shift. When they had decided to adjust the schedule to allow them to work different shifts, Kirk had offset the science station shift rotation by 15 minutes to allow himself time to get to his quarters to take Syvek from Spock and to allow Spock to get to the bridge.
He entered quietly, unsure whether or not Syvek would be sleeping, but instead of encountering Spock and their baby, he found the room empty.
He turned toward the bathroom just as a high-pitched squeal pierced the air, coming from the direction of the bathroom. When he reached the door and looked in, he had to grin to himself.
“Pbbbbt.”
It seemed that Spock also enjoyed hearing their boy laugh.
3 months old
“Bones, this book says he should be rolling over by three months, but he isn’t! What’s wrong with him?”
McCoy groaned. The chronometer glowing in his room read 2:31. He glared accusatorily at the intercom that had woken him. “Jim, why the hell are you calling me at 2:31? No, better yet, why are you testing Syvek’s development at 2:31?”
“Oh God, you’re deflecting! Spock! Why is he deflecting? Bones, what the hell is wrong with my baby? Is he paralyzed? Oh shit, his heart is racing!” Kirk had passed “hysterical” and was heading for “anxiety attack.”
Bones sat up. “Spock? Are you there? Why are you letting him call me at this hour with these questions?”
Spock’s cool voice replied, “Doctor, I believe Jim is somewhat delirious from lack of sleep.”
“Seriously? Why are you both awake?”
“It is interesting that you should ask, Dr. McCoy. Jim insists that we both rise and attend to Syvek every time he awakens during the night.” Spock’s formal tone hinted at exactly what his opinion was on the subject. “It seems to be necessary to inform you yet again, Jim, that Syvek’s heart rate is well within the normal limits of his Vulcan biology.”
“Jim,” the doctor sighed, “go to sleep. Your kid is fine. Three months is a general estimate, not a finish line. All babies are different. Let Spock deal with the kid at night; you know he doesn’t need as much sleep as you do. Oh, and let me sleep at night, too, will you?”
4 months old
A warm tongue was working its way down Kirk’s body. It twisted and swirled upon the skin above his sternum, zigzagged across his abdomen, lapped at his navel. There was a soft nip at his left hip and warm breath on his erection. His hands fell to Spock’s shoulders, and he shuddered as he felt them begin to lower.
A sudden cry pierced the air, and Kirk found himself jerking awake with a gasp Spock laid at his side, still dozing. The baby monitor, which was set up on Kirk’s nightstand, was blaring in Kirk’s ear.
Annoyed that Spock was sleeping through this (he glanced at the clock and groaned) 3:14 am wake up call, he set the monitor on the pillow by Spock’s ear and maxed the volume.
Spock shot up, startled out of his sleep.
“You go see what’s wrong,” Kirk ordered. “I was about to have a sex dream.”
Spock raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, as Kirk rolled over and pouted.
5 months old
“Captain Kirk to Bridge.” Kirk’s tone of voice verged on panicked, almost desperate.
Spock hit the button on the captain’s chair intercom unit. “Spock here.”
“Oh thank god you’re there.” His voice was accompanied by the grating sound of a crying infant. “I can’t get your child to stop crying!”
“Jim,” Spock sighed, “as I have explained before, it is most illogical to deny your own claim to parenthood when you are emotionally compromised. The fact that our son is crying does not make him any less yours. It might make him more yours than mine.”
Spock’s eyes travelled around the bridge to glare at any crewmembers whose snickers hadn’t been muffled well enough to escape the Vulcan’s superior hearing.
Kirk sighed. “I know that, Spock. But I’ve been down here for 3 hours, one of which has been spent trying to make this thing be quiet! He’s driving me crazy!”
“Captain, this is not the proper place to have this discussion, and there is not likely to be anything I could do that would yield different results. I suggest you take the child to Dr. McCoy if you think he is unwell.” Spock’s tone was final, and he punctuated his suggestion by ending the link.
He had barely removed his hand when the unit flared back to life.
“Spock! Don’t you hang up on me!”
The XO clenched his jaw. “Is there something you require, Captain?”
“I already took him to McCoy. He said nothing was wrong.”
“I thank you for the update. Will that be all?”
Spock’s cold tone was starting to grate on Kirk’s nerves. He transferred Syvek to his other hip, wincing as the boy let out a particularly loud screech. “No, that will not be all! He won’t. Shut. Up!”
“Quite an irritating characteristic, no doubt,” Spock replied in a clipped tone. “Have you attempted to feed him?”
“Yes,” Kirk answered, rolling his eyes. “He’s already eaten.”
“Have you changed him?”
“Yes.”
“Have you put him down to sleep?”
“Yes! I’m not a damned fool, Spock! I rocked him; I sang to him;” - and here Kirk ignored the involuntary snort that had filtered from Spock’s end of the link to his - “I read to him; I played with him; I bounced him up and down; I swung him around; I - “
“Jim!” Spock interrupted, stopping the hysterical tirade.
“What?!”
Syvek still cried in the background.
“How did you rock him?”
“What? On the rocking chair…?”
“In what position did you hold him?”
“I tried cradling him in my arms, holding him on my lap, and holding him against my shoulder. He screamed the whole time. Why does it matter?”
“Try holding him upright upon your lap, facing you.”
There was some angry mumbling and shuffling as Kirk made his way to the rocking chair. Spock waited a few moments, listening to the hushed sounds of the bridge.
“Jim?”
“It worked!” Jim exclaimed. “Hey, buddy! Look at that smile! You look so happy now,” he cooed. “Do you like sitting like this? Aren’t you glad I figured it out? Your daddy is so smart!”
Spock’s eyes flicked to the ceiling in his approximation of a human’s eye roll as he ended the transmission again.
16 months old
“Zizzizz gubult,” said Syvek, nodding.
“Is that so? Where did you hear that?” Kirk asked, interested.
“Ummmm, azzizuz wuzhabuzh.”
“Hmm, that’s not a very neutral source. Almost sounds like something from Fox Intergalactic News.”
“Dabbab. Doo. Gub,” was the sage reply.
“Now that’s a point I’ve never considered.”
“Wuzzabub.”
The sound of a throat clearing brought both Kirks’ attention to the presence of Spock, whose curious eyebrow seemed to suggest that he’d been listening for a little while.
“Hey, we’re just about done,” Kirk told him. “Right buddy?” he asked Syvek.
“Umm, wubbuh zuggle,” the baby said seriously.
Kirk picked him up from the changing table in their bathroom and carried him toward the door. He stopped in front of Spock and gave him a quick peck.
Noting the slight furrow in his lover’s brow, Kirk explained his and Syvek’s conversation to Spock with a simple, “Meaningless conversation. Just an illogical human behavior,” before leaving the bathroom, laughing.
20 months old
“Is your diaper wet, Syvek?” Kirk asked as he and Spock prepared to take their son to the officer’s mess for lunch.
“No,” was the quiet reply.
“Is it stinky?”
“No.”
“Right…” he said, approaching the toddler. He felt the kid’s diaper, finding it somewhat squishy. He sighed and picked him up. As he passed him to Spock, he said, “Change him, will you?”
“Very well.”
Laying the child on the changing table in the bathroom, Spock attempted to understand the rationale behind their son’s lie.
“Syvek,” he started, discarding the wet diaper in the garbage chute, “do you enjoy the sensation of sitting in your own waste?” Syvek blinked, and Spock rephrased his question. “Does a wet diaper feel good?”
Syvek shook his head.
“Does a dry diaper feel good?”
Syvek nodded.
“Why do you not tell us when you need to be changed?” Spock lifted the boy to a standing position and pulled up his pants.
Syvek shrugged.
“Illogical,” Spock muttered as they rejoined Kirk. Syvek reached for Kirk, who pulled him into his arms.
After hugging his daddy, Syvek turned to Spock, a serious look on his little face. “Not evewyfing is lodical, Fahver.”
21 months old
Kirk sat in front of his 21-month-old baby. Syvek was in his high chair, lunch set out on his tray. He had eaten one piece of a green bean and two bites of his grilled cheese sandwich and had taken a few drinks of milk. The diced apples were untouched.
“You are the slowest eater I’ve seen in my entire life. What is wrong? I know you like this stuff.”
Syvek simply stared at him with a slight smile on his face.
Kirk gathered some apples on the boy’s spoon and brought it close to his mouth. Syvek turned his head away.
“Oh come on! Try it! They’re apples. Just like applesauce. You love apples!”
“No.” There was still something so precious about his son’s tiny voice. Kirk knew the novelty would wear off soon, especially where the “n-word” was concerned, but for now the sound of his child’s high-pitched voice never failed to melt him a little.
“Just try them!” he pleaded.
“No.”
Kirk sighed. “Are you all done?”
“No.”
Kirk was exasperated. “Then eat, for crying out loud! I know you like it! And I made it just as Father does. American cheese, wheat bread, real butter, and barely toasted on both sides.”
Spock and Kirk had decided early on that they wanted their son to eat only natural foods. As much as possible, they avoided the replicator. They would stick with canned fruits and vegetables, when fresh weren’t available, that had no preservatives. The men purchased dairy fresh and in bulk when they visited a planet that supported the proper creatures. Freezing cheese was somewhat more difficult than freezing milk, but they managed.
Keeping their son on a natural diet was costly but logical. Their parents approved strongly of the endeavor and aided them as well as they could. Spock’s mother would bake dozens of loaves of bread; his father used some of his political influence to arrange occasional deliveries to starbases near the Enterprise’s location, once to the Enterprise itself; Kirk’s mom provided the canned food and sometimes a little something extra for Kirk and Spock.
“Jim,” said Spock, interrupting his latest attempt to convince Syvek to eat more food.
“Spock! I didn’t hear you come in. Is it lunch time already?”
“It is 13:15,” Spock replied evenly. Nevertheless, Kirk wasn’t fooled. He heard the undercurrent of his tone, the unasked question of ‘Why is this happening?’
“Oh,” said Kirk. He glanced around nervously, feeling like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His eyes settled on Syvek, who was now looking down at his food, interested in it for the first time. He wasn’t actually eating it, but he was looking.
“May I ask why Syvek is not yet napping?”
“He won’t eat! I don’t know why. He likes green beans, apples, and grilled cheese, but he’s only had a few bites.”
“You are no doubt aware that his afternoon nap is to take place at precisely 12:30.”
“Well, he won’t eat!” Kirk hated the part of himself that felt guilty for messing up the precious schedule, but he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, starve his kid.
“Jim,” Spock began, softening his tone when he sensed the conflict within Kirk, “the child is quite intelligent and quite stubborn. He is delaying his nap. He will sit here for hours if he believes it will excuse him from his nap.”
Surprised, Kirk looked at Syvek. His head was ducked over his tray, but Kirk could see his grin.
“Well, I can’t put him down hungry!”
“He will eat when he wakes.”
Kirk sighed. “You try to feed him before I put him down.”
“I would first like to remind you that we had an appointment set for 1300 hours.” Taking in the blank look on Kirk’s face, he added, “In supply closet 5 on deck 3.”
Recognition dawned in Kirk’s eyes. Without a word, he pulled Syvek out of his high chair and carried him into Spock’s old quarters. He laid him down in his crib and covered him with his satiny Periodic Table blankie. Re-emerging from the adjoining bathroom, he grabbed Spock’s hand and pulled him into the corridor in the direction of the turbolift that would lead them to deck three.
25 months old
“Do you need to use the facilities before we depart?”
“No!” Syvek shouted, running toward the turbolift.
Spock caught up to him easily, using his much longer stride to his advantage. He knelt to his 2-year-old’s eye level.
“Syvek, once the shuttle embarks, you will not be able to relieve yourself for 2.3 hours. I believe that you should attempt to empty your bladder.”
“No, Fahver,” the boy sighed, almost sounding exasperated.
Spock let out a similar sigh. “Very well, son.” He held out his hand, which Syvek gripped obediently. When they entered the lift, Syvek pulled on Spock’s trousers. Spock picked him up and allowed him to hold the control lever. “Shuttle bay.”
Kirk was waiting inside the shuttle bay, overseeing the loading of their luggage. Syvek squirmed until Spock set him down, and he ran to his daddy as quickly as his chubby legs would carry him.
“Daddy!” he squealed when Kirk picked him up and swung him around.
“Hey, buddy. You about ready to go?” Syvek nodded. “Need to go potty first?” He nodded again.
“Syvek,” Spock began, “I asked you the same question 2.74 minutes ago, and your response was negative.”
“Nuh-uh!” Syvek shook his head vehemently.
“Syvek…” said Kirk in a warning tone.
“He dinnint!” the boy cried. “He’s lying!”
Spock bristled at the accusation. “Vulcans do not lie. Lying is illogical.”
“I gotta go potty,” Syvek whined, bouncing in Kirk’s grasp.
He set the child down, smiling as he watched Syvek run in the direction of the nearest head. Looking over to Spock, he saw that his lover was vaguely perturbed, the expression on his face was Spock’s equivalent of a pout. Kirk reached out his fingers and brushed them against two of Spock’s.
“I did ask,” Spock murmured.
“And I believe you, but what exactly did you say to him?”
“I asked if he needed to use the facilities, and he said, ‘No.’ I reminded him that the duration of the shuttle ride would be 2.3 hours and suggested that he attempt to empty his bladder.”
Kirk’s chuckles had grown steadily louder throughout Spock’s explanation. Spock raised an eyebrow to the captain, silently asking what was causing the reaction.
“Oh, Spock,” Kirk laughed. “If we’re ever going to get this kid potty trained, we’ve got to work on our terminology. It’s not the ‘facilities;’ it’s the potty. You can’t tell him to ‘relieve himself’ or ‘empty his bladder.’ Ask if he needs to go potty or pee or poop. The word ‘urinate,’ or any of its cognates, will not work for a 2-year-old. And don’t try 'defecate,' 'excrement,' 'stool,' 'waste,' or anything else like that. Stick to short words that he can actually pronounce.” Spock continued to regard him silently, eyebrow still raised. Kirk smiled. “Trust me.”
Spock sighed. “Very well, Jim.”
Syvek came running back to his parents. “All done! Let’s go!”
Spock offered the child a small smile. “Did you wash your hands?”
The boy hesitated. “Yes.”
Kirk grabbed the small hands and found them completely dry. “Go wash your hands.”
2 years, 9 months, 14 days old
“Syvek, please remain seated while I refill your glass.” Spock eyed his son before heading across the mess hall to retrieve another glass of milk. Kirk was planet side on Shentai II with a medical away team, aiding with the CMO’s treatment of Fardonian chrysothanium poisoning victims, so Spock and Syvek were spending the day together.
After spending half an hour that morning in the ship’s pool attempting to teach the boy to swim, Spock had returned with Syvek to their quarters so they could shower and dress. Arguing with the toddler over his decision to wear tan khaki pants with the top half of his pink dinosaur costume (minus the hood) had proven fruitless.
The two had visited the arboretum for a cursory lesson on biology that quickly became an impromptu (that is, one-sided) game of hide and seek. It had only taken Spock 1.3 minutes to locate the child, who had somehow managed to camouflage himself, pink clothing and all, in an Andorian shrub, but Syvek had managed to “lose” his shoes during that time.
By the time Spock located the shoes, buried - buried! - under a Terran oak tree, his control was wavering. Though it was somewhat earlier than Syvek’s usual lunchtime, his father was ready to have a couple of hours to himself during the boy’s afternoon nap, so they went to lunch.
Spock had barely begun filling the empty glass when he heard his son’s excited voice.
“I’m naked! I’m naked!”
Steeling his shoulders and taking a deep breath, Spock turned to see his son (no, ¬Kirk’s son, because despite all the times he’d told Jim it was illogical to deny parenthood based on a behavior, this streak of exhibitionism was all Jim) standing on the table in his underwear.
“Syvek!”
The boy turned and smiled. “Iss Girls Gone Wild! Wooo!” he yelled, shimmying and shaking his chest.
Snickers and laughter erupted throughout the mess hall. This seemed only to encourage the child, who began to strut along the length of the table. Spock grabbed him and retrieved the discarded clothing from the ground.
“Whass wrong, Father? Iss Daddy’s favorite holo!”
Spock didn’t answer, just stalked out of the room with clothing in one arm and a mostly-naked boy under the other.
3 yrs, 11 days old
“What’s this for?” Syvek asked, holding a strange Y-shaped object.
“Stethoscope. It’s for listening to a patient’s heart and lungs.”
Syvek frowned as he considered McCoy’s answer. “Why do you listen to them? What do they say?”
“They don’t ¬say anything, kid. A doctor listens to the sounds the heart and lungs make so he can tell if they’re working properly.”
“What about this?”
“Otoscope. It’s used to examine the ear canal or ear drum.”
“This?”
“Laryngoscope.”
“This?”
“Blood pressure cuff.”
“This?”
“Reflex hammer.”
“This?”
“Thermometer.”
“This?”
“Syringe. Look, are we about done here?” Bones asked, glancing into the bag of pretend doctor toys he had regrettably given to Syvek for his third birthday last week.
“No way!” Syvek yelled, aghast. “Get your ass back on that biobed! Your exam has not even started.”
Bones sighed before reclining on his couch, almost regretting allowing the kid to observe his own bedside manner. Small, soft hands pushed his shirt up his chest and picked up the plastic reflex hammer.
“Oof!” McCoy coughed, startled by the strength of the three-year-old’s thrust of the hammer into his stomach. “It’s not for stomachs!”
“Do not make me setate you,” the ‘doctor’ threatened, dangerously wielding the toy syringe.
“Sedate,” Bones corrected, wondering why he had gone with the vintage equipment style instead of a toy medical tricorder.
If the kid was this bad at three, what would he be like at 13? Bones sighed wearily and fell back on the bed, allowing Syvek to continue his exam. He could make it through this.
"You need bitamins," Syvek announced, but McCoy barely had time to translate "bitamins" into "vitamins" before he was unconscious.
Apparently he needed to calm down with the hyposprays. The kid had jammed the toy syringe into his neck hard enough for it to act as a Vulcan nerve pinch.
"Oopsie..."
There's a sequel now!