The Call of Chat Noir

Stay Safe, My Son

I glanced over at my son. He was laying in an orange crate that I'd turned into a bassinet, cooing quietly as he raised his hands and batted at the air senselessly. I felt a sad smile tug at the corner of my mouth before letting out a small sigh.

'No one will hurt you as long as I'm here, Adrien. You're safe with me,' I thought to myself.

I turned toward him and walked over, peering into his "bed" at the small child within. At only 8 months, he was still one of the biggest infants I'd ever seen. He had his mothers gorgeous locks, a shade of blonde that resembled sun-kissed gold, and her beautiful wide eyes, green like the seawater that lapped at the hull of a boat that pushed through the calm waves of an ocean.

I reached down and held out my index finger above his head, which he grasped with his tiny hands. I smiled as he pulled on my finger, squeezing it and giggling crazily as he kicked his feet up in the air. I chuckled as he started to blow spit bubbled through his tiny lips, and at the way his nose scrunched up as they popped. He smiled and looked up at me with his fluorescent eyes, a look of wonderment crossing over his face.

I reached down with my other hand and scooped him up, wrapping my hands behind his head and around his tiny waist as I cradled his fragile body to my chest. He started to whimper, so I shushed him and lightly bounced him, which soon made his whimpers turn to small coos that echoed through the "house".