Title: Little Ewain
Fandom: Tamora Pierce/Protector of the Small
SMACKDOWN Competitor: Wyldon
Summary: Bedtime means bedtime.
"Ewain's in bed – should be asleep in no time," Wyldon said, coming back to the study where Kel was writing a letter.
She up, alarmed. "You didn't stay with him until he was sleeping?"
He shook his head. "Keladry, at some point he has to begin falling asleep on his own."
"But –" At that moment an infant wail echoed from down the hall. She stood up, but he blocked her path to the door.
"Wyldon," she said reproachfully, trying to step around him.
He crossed his arms stepped in her way. "No," he cautioned.
The tiny voice gasped, charging up for another deep-chested cry. It was as if he were calling her by name – Kel didn't have it in her to resist.
Her husband put his hands on her shoulders. "He needs to cry himself out," he told her in a low voice. "It's good for him."
How could it possibly be good? "He might be sick," she protested.
He shook his head. "He's not sick. He's not hungry. He doesn't need to be changed. He just needs to learn that bedtime is bedtime. Period."
Kel hesitated. Her son's cries continued, weaker now. "Are you sure?" she asked weakly.
He smiled, his face full of kindness and experience. "Trust me," he whispered, pulling her into his arms. "I know."