Post by Sophia Foster on Apr 17, 2022 14:36:38 GMT -5
Sophie had gotten home from her trip to London a few days ago, and Mackenzie had gone out for the day leaving Sophie to take care of the baby. The infant was about a month old now and as nap time came about Sophie had a hell of a time getting the child to sleep. She was good at getting it to stop crying most of the time, but she couldn’t get it to sleep for the life of her.
She spent half an hour singing old lullabies before the baby’s eyes finally drifted shut. She didn’t quite remember all of the lyrics to the songs she grew up with, but she made do, stringing the songs together when she lost track of what was supposed to come next. They were Irish. She knew that much. Her grandfather had been Irish and he and her grandmother had taken care of her when she was really young, so his lullabies were the ones she remembered the best.
When she went to gently place the baby in it’s crib, it’s eyes opened and it started crying again. “Honey,” she groaned, “I need you to sleep so I can set up before Mack gets back.” Nonetheless, she picked the baby up and began walking around with it. She kept humming under her breath, but she brought the child with her to the kitchen as she awkwardly set up the table cloth and set the table. She set a pan on the stove to boil water for rice, then she noticed the child was asleep again. Drool began to soak her shoulder and she returned to the nursery to put it down. This time the eyes didn’t pop open again. “Good girl,” she muttered, putting a CD with lullabies into the player and turning it on, closing the door behind her.
She made microwave green beans and a beef roast, and everything was set out on the table by the time Mackenzie was set to get back.
She spent half an hour singing old lullabies before the baby’s eyes finally drifted shut. She didn’t quite remember all of the lyrics to the songs she grew up with, but she made do, stringing the songs together when she lost track of what was supposed to come next. They were Irish. She knew that much. Her grandfather had been Irish and he and her grandmother had taken care of her when she was really young, so his lullabies were the ones she remembered the best.
When she went to gently place the baby in it’s crib, it’s eyes opened and it started crying again. “Honey,” she groaned, “I need you to sleep so I can set up before Mack gets back.” Nonetheless, she picked the baby up and began walking around with it. She kept humming under her breath, but she brought the child with her to the kitchen as she awkwardly set up the table cloth and set the table. She set a pan on the stove to boil water for rice, then she noticed the child was asleep again. Drool began to soak her shoulder and she returned to the nursery to put it down. This time the eyes didn’t pop open again. “Good girl,” she muttered, putting a CD with lullabies into the player and turning it on, closing the door behind her.
She made microwave green beans and a beef roast, and everything was set out on the table by the time Mackenzie was set to get back.
