Childhood

By Rentedemotion07

It is weird, to say the least, to watch your children grow up. One minute they are children, and the next they are adults, taller than you and with their own distinct personalities. One minute, they fit perfectly in your arms, the next, you fit perfectly into theirs.

The moment I first see him, I know. I know that he was meant for me. He looks to be about one and a half, maybe two. He has the most astonishing blue eyes and wild dark hair. He's beautiful. And even more amazing, his face is the face that had flashed before me that very morning when little Lana Lang had asked me if I wanted to make a wish.

I pick him up, and he fits perfectly into my arms. He isn't too heavy, but solid and his head tucks perfectly in the crook of my neck, right underneath my chin. His hair smells sweet, like tropical fruit and baby powder.

"Honey, we can't keep him. Children don't just fall out of the sky." As soon as Jonathon says this, I feel my arms close protectively around him, his soft yet oddly solid body forming around me, just like I imagined a child's would.

"Well we can't just leave him here Jonathon." I say, inhaling this child's unique scent again.

"What are we going to say? That we found him in a cornfield?" He sighs and looks at me warily.

"We didn't find him. He found us." I press my lips to his forehead and he gazes up at me, his eyes and mouth showing amusement, happiness and…surprise? It is as if he has never been kissed before.

Jonathon is looking at me with worry in his eyes. I know he is thinking that any moment this child's parents will come running out and yank their child from my arms.

Then, we stumble across the ship I never really have believed in aliens, until I see the evidence right in front of my eyes. Aliens are supposed to be little green men, they aren't adorable little boys with blue-green eyes and a mop of curly black hair.

When we finally get home, after taking Lionel and Lex Luthor to the hospital, and after I help Jonathon haul the ship into the storm shelter, I venture into the attic and find all of Jonathon's old clothes and toys.

I take the clothes into Jonathon and mine's bedroom, then run down to fetch the boy. He is sitting, wrapped in the blanket, staring at the new surroundings. Jonathon is standing close by, keeping an eye on him. I wonder why Jonathon hasn't been picking him up, but I realize that perhaps Jonathon does not want to keep this child, that perhaps he doesn't want children that aren't his.

"Jonathon?" I set the box down on the coffee table and hug him from behind. "What's wrong? Don't you want him?"

He turns around and I fit perfectly into his arms. "Of course I do, Martha. I just don't want to take him away from his real parents."

"He doesn't have real parents, Jonathon. We could be his real parents." I look up into his eyes and he smiles.

"It just seems too good to be true." He sighs.

"I know, but it is true." I smile and pick up the box, going through the clothes. I pull out a long sleeved blue shirt and a pair of soft red shorts. As I pull on his shirt, I notice-oddly-that he is circumcised. It seems to be a sort of clue-it tells me that someone probably loved him once, or at least cared for him enough to make sure he was clean and mildly cared for. He holds his arms out and I embrace him. He holds on, refusing to let go, and despite the fact that I know he was once cared for, he seems to have been deprived of affection.

I reach over and pull out a bunch of toys, laying them on the floor. He reaches towards an aluminum space ship. He hugs it to him and smiles at me.

"Do you like that buddy?" I ask him, pushing his hair out of his face and he leans into my hand.

He looks at the other toys, but seems to give them up as a bad job, and continues playing with the space ship. I walk back over to where Jonathon is sitting, nervously chewing on a hangnail.

"Martha. We can't keep him."

I sigh. "Jonathon. Why not? He obviously doesn't have any parents." I'm trying to be rational, but I can hear the whine entering my voice. In the few short hours that he has been with us, I have come to love him. I couldn't bear it if he were to be taken away from us.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door.

"Quick, take him in the other room." Jonathon says, and I dart forward and haul him into my arms. I dash into the other room and he is still holding the toy spaceship.

"Jonathon." I hear the voice of the deputy, I think his name is Ethan. "I saw what's left of your truck off the road and thought I'd stop by to make sure everything was okay.

"Thanks Ethan. We're all fine here, a little bumped and bruised but otherwise fine."

The boy squirms in my arms and I put him down. The next thing I know he is out the door, and I run after him quickly.

"Sorry, he got away from me. He's a quick little guy." I smile at Ethan and notice the look on Jonathon's face. Inside, I know he's freaking out.

"Who's the little fella?" Ethan asks, looking at the boy.

"Uh, he's…" Jonathon trails off and I finish his sentence.

"Our son." The words sound right as they leave my lips and I know that he IS my son. But now, the deputy is looking at me weird. He's wondering how he hadn't noticed I was pregnant and hauling a child around for the last two years.

"Adopted, of course. We just got back from Metropolis with him today."

Jonathon is eyeing me warily, but the deputy smiles. "What's his name?"

I saw the first name that pops into my head. "Clark. We thought my family name would make a good first name." I smile.

"Well, at least one good thing happened today." As he says this, I can't help but think that truer words had never been spoken. I sit down on the couch with Clark. The men talk for a few minutes and then the deputy leaves.

"Martha, what was that about?" Jonathon crouches down across from me and Clark slides down between us, playing with his toys.

"Jonathon. He doesn't have any parents. Why can't we take their place?" I grasp Jonathon's hand and Clark stops and looks at Jonathon. They look at each other for a few moments and finally my husband rests his hand on the boys head, smiles at me, then sighs.

"Well, I guess I better call in that favor with Lionel Luthor. We're going to need all the help we can get." He says this as he looks at Clark, then he sighs again. "Making a deal with the devil is probably going to come back and bite us in the ass."

"Jonathon! Language!" I cover Clark's ears and they both grin at me. It's almost as if Clark completely understands what we're saying.

"How old do you think he is?" I ask him and he looks at our son-it feels so nice to say that. Jonathon is studying him and Clark reaches up and brushes his hand against Jonathon's face, just like he did to Lex Luthor this morning in the car. Jonathon is staring at him even more intently than before.

"I don't know, Martha. Maybe two?"

I nod. "Why do you think he hasn't spoken to us yet? Maybe he could tell us where he's from."

Clark is ignoring us now, playing with a toy horse.

"I doubt it Martha. I think our best bet is to treat him like a normal kid. Keep talking to him and hopefully he'll talk back."

Jonathon hugs me around Clark and the boy stills, staring at Jonathon. His eyes are wide and he looks shocked. Jonathon laughs and ruffles Clark's hair again, then stands up.

"Well, I'd better put in that phone call to Lionel Luthor, then we should probably go get some actual clothes for him."

I smile and take Clark into my arms again. He rests his head on my chest and reaches a small hand up and grasps onto a lock of my hair. Before long he is asleep, snoring lightly and drooling onto the green sweater I'm wearing. In this moment, I believe that I have never been as happy as I am now.