Small drabble related to my niece's antics with her encounter of snow. Although here in MN, you might want mini snowshoes...
Yes, it is April, and THERE'S STILL SNOW ON THE GROUND. Anyway, my 30th story here on , so enjoy some baby!Clark fluff.
Thanks for reading!
Martha had barely finished wrapping Clark in layer upon layer of clothes and bundled him into the thickest coat Jonathan had ever seen on a toddler. His boy was still grinning though, little arms and legs waving back and forth stiffly in the air, reminding Jonathan of nothing more than an offspring of the Michelin man.
Martha stood back for an instant, her gaze assessing as if wondering whether to take off the outer clothes and try to cram yet another layer beneath them or whether to just refuse to let Clark out of the door. Jonathan couldn't stand the excitement any longer and swept in to take hold off his adopted son, relishing the giggles. He was glad that snow had actually arrived at all during the short winter months of Kansas, and it had lingered enough for an inch of snow to build up on the Kent farm. Life with a child was a journey of new experiences, whether the kid was an alien or not, as Jonathan had discovered the world was an awesome place when explored with his son.
He carried Jonathan tucked in safely to his chest, a quick reminder to his wife to bring the camera and he was already heading for the front door. Sweeping out on to the porch, he heard Clark's breath catch in the cold, his tiny hands bat against his father's chest and when he looked down he half expected to find himself turning to go back inside but already Clark's soft smile was back, his breathing fine as if he was already adjusting. Jonathan was sure it was just his own imagination that ready eager anticipation in his son's eyes as if he knew his Daddy was taking him to learn something new. Any other 3 year old would be familiar with snow by now. But Clark…he's most likely as new as this as a newborn baby.
He heard Martha close the front door behind him, heard her worried, "Is he alright? He's not too cold, is he?"
Jonathan brought a finger up to caress his son's cheek, laughing as chubby hands batted at his and said softly, "You're not too cold, Clark, are you, son? You're ready to have some fun! I don't even think he feels the cold!"
Martha was at his side, peering past his arm to check anxiously on her son as if not entirely sure that her husband was telling the truth. They walked together down the path and into the sheltered garden. "Maybe we shouldn't let him be out too long," Martha said. "I don't want him to catch a cold."
"We'd have to have Clark wait another year and he's fine," Jonathan reassured softly. "His momma wrapped him up all nice and warm and we'll take him back inside soon. For now let's just enjoy the fact it's dry, this lovely snow while we've got the chance." Jonathan picked his way carefully to the bench and lowered himself and his precious burden down, turning Clark to face out into the garden, watching as his son seemed to soak up everything around him.
Martha sat down beside him, "It's cold though, Jonathan and he's still small."
"Does he look worried? Trust me, it's just a few minutes . . . otherwise we have to wait almost a year for this."
"For what, again?" she asked.
"For Clark finding out what snow is," Jonathan said, his voice filled with awe.
"He'll have forgotten by next year," Martha smiled back.
"Exactly, means we get this twice!" Jonathan laughed. Clark turned at the sound of his father's laughter, patting his hands together until Jonathan lifted his up, resting his feet on his own thighs and bouncing his son up and down to a chorus of laughter.
Moments later and Clark's attention was on something past Jonathan's shoulder, his hand reaching out as John laid him against his chest so he could reach the back of the bench. Small hands reached out for the fresh white powder lying there, only to draw back startled at the cold. It didn't take long for Clark to reach out again, this time his fist closed round a small handful of snow, bringing it back in towards him, only to mash it against his father's cheek, while the tiny icicles caught in the hint of stubble until they melted and ran down to drip back on to Jonathan's hand where it rested back on John's shoulder.
Martha laughed and watched as Clark repeated the process. "Just you wait, young man! Your Daddy will get his own back when you're bigger. There'll be snowballs all over the place."
At the sound of his mother's voice, Clark reached for her and she took him from Jonathan's arms as her husband wiped the last of the melting snow from his cheek. He reached for the camera, taking the shot as his son buried his cold pink nose into the warmth of his mother's neck. It was a memory Jonathan would always treasure even if Clark was too young to ever remember it and next year, they could find some more snow and make some more memories, just as precious as these.
