Picture Prompt Fic: Two Months In
Title: Two Months In
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Genre: Teh fluffy cuteness
Characters: Ten, Rose, and a baby
Author's Note: Written for the August Picture Prompt Challenge on Time and Chips.
Author's Note the sequel: This is written in letter format, and inspired by the newsletters on Dooce.com
Summary: Today you are two months old, and I have to tell you it has been the longest two months of my whole life. And that is saying something, Sally Rose Tyler, because I am very, very old.
Prompt #5:
Under the cut
Dear Sally,
Today you are two months old, and I have to tell you it has been the longest two months of my whole life. And that is saying something, Sally Rose Tyler, because I am very, very old.
You came into our lives two months ago, kicking and screaming, looking like you wanted to stab Auntie Martha or your mother or me for pulling you into a very noisy, very bright universe. And it seems like that is going to be a reoccurring theme, the kicking and screaming, because let's be honest. You're a Tyler, and that's a bit of what being a Tyler is all about. We can thank your Granny Jackie for that.
So! Two months in, and you hate sleeping, love eating, and you stick your fingers, and other things, in your mouth. So we know you're actually mine, I suppose. My lack of a sleep schedule benefits your mother, as she can sleep like the dead without having to worry about your needs for a while. I've taken to keeping a cradle-type contraption in the console room of the TARDIS while I work and your Mum sleeps so that I don't have to go running down the corridor to deal with dirty diapers and bottle feedings. This, according to your Uncle Jack, makes me completely domestic. but I don't believe him.
Though, to be fair to your progress, you have been sleeping a bit better, which is a relief, as neglecting the TARDIS to tend to your needs has left us a bit earth-bound since you were born. Not such a bad thing I suppose. Well, unless you consider the fact that Granny Jackie has been stopping by multiple times every day, and informing me that my parenting skills happen to be severely lacking.
This, I know. Because It's been ten lifetimes since I've procreated. And the last time didn't require much in the way of what humans consider parenting. I just kind of gave up my DNA. It was easy.
This is not. This requires time, and patience, and the occasional nap. Can you believe it? Me! Napping! Never in that very long life I mentioned earlier have I napped as much as I have since you reared your overly-cute head. Not even regeneration is as exhausting as you are. And I mean that in the best way possible.
It's the most fascinating thing, watching you grow, and become more aware and curiouser by the day. Hour, really. Minute, even. I put things in front of you and you look mystified. Against my better judgment, I put the sonic screwdriver in front of you, and you reached out and grabbed on, and by Rassilon you did not want to let go. But honestly, as much fun as sticking random objects in your mouth is (and I should know), it's not exactly a good idea to gum your ol' Da's favorite tool.
The problem was that you got rather stroppy when I took it away. So I did the stupidest thing. I replaced it with my finger. And you tried to break it, while giving me the biggest smile you've given in your whole two months of existence.
It was beautiful. But my finger hurt. Expect a toy sonic screwdriver in the next few days to avoid further injury to my fingers, and your delicate sensibilities.
Your Dad,
The Doctor
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Genre: Teh fluffy cuteness
Characters: Ten, Rose, and a baby
Author's Note: Written for the August Picture Prompt Challenge on Time and Chips.
Author's Note the sequel: This is written in letter format, and inspired by the newsletters on Dooce.com
Summary: Today you are two months old, and I have to tell you it has been the longest two months of my whole life. And that is saying something, Sally Rose Tyler, because I am very, very old.
Prompt #5:
Under the cut
Dear Sally,
Today you are two months old, and I have to tell you it has been the longest two months of my whole life. And that is saying something, Sally Rose Tyler, because I am very, very old.
You came into our lives two months ago, kicking and screaming, looking like you wanted to stab Auntie Martha or your mother or me for pulling you into a very noisy, very bright universe. And it seems like that is going to be a reoccurring theme, the kicking and screaming, because let's be honest. You're a Tyler, and that's a bit of what being a Tyler is all about. We can thank your Granny Jackie for that.
So! Two months in, and you hate sleeping, love eating, and you stick your fingers, and other things, in your mouth. So we know you're actually mine, I suppose. My lack of a sleep schedule benefits your mother, as she can sleep like the dead without having to worry about your needs for a while. I've taken to keeping a cradle-type contraption in the console room of the TARDIS while I work and your Mum sleeps so that I don't have to go running down the corridor to deal with dirty diapers and bottle feedings. This, according to your Uncle Jack, makes me completely domestic. but I don't believe him.
Though, to be fair to your progress, you have been sleeping a bit better, which is a relief, as neglecting the TARDIS to tend to your needs has left us a bit earth-bound since you were born. Not such a bad thing I suppose. Well, unless you consider the fact that Granny Jackie has been stopping by multiple times every day, and informing me that my parenting skills happen to be severely lacking.
This, I know. Because It's been ten lifetimes since I've procreated. And the last time didn't require much in the way of what humans consider parenting. I just kind of gave up my DNA. It was easy.
This is not. This requires time, and patience, and the occasional nap. Can you believe it? Me! Napping! Never in that very long life I mentioned earlier have I napped as much as I have since you reared your overly-cute head. Not even regeneration is as exhausting as you are. And I mean that in the best way possible.
It's the most fascinating thing, watching you grow, and become more aware and curiouser by the day. Hour, really. Minute, even. I put things in front of you and you look mystified. Against my better judgment, I put the sonic screwdriver in front of you, and you reached out and grabbed on, and by Rassilon you did not want to let go. But honestly, as much fun as sticking random objects in your mouth is (and I should know), it's not exactly a good idea to gum your ol' Da's favorite tool.
The problem was that you got rather stroppy when I took it away. So I did the stupidest thing. I replaced it with my finger. And you tried to break it, while giving me the biggest smile you've given in your whole two months of existence.
It was beautiful. But my finger hurt. Expect a toy sonic screwdriver in the next few days to avoid further injury to my fingers, and your delicate sensibilities.
Your Dad,
The Doctor