This is just a little piece about the Once-ler's mom, featuring baby Once-ler.

Hope you like it! :)

Disclaimer: The Lorax belongs to Dr. Seuss and Illumination Entertainment, not me.

Dominance

He had his father's eyes.

She stared blankly down at her child, watching as those icy blue eyes searched for her face in the darkness, reaching out with small pink hands toward his mother as he squirmed restelessly in his crib. She watched, tight-lipped and unsmiling, as he began to fuss, knowing she was there and desperately wanting her attention. It wasn't until his sad, pitiful whimpers began to morph into obnoxiously loud howls that she let out an exasperated sigh and finally consented, reaching in and scooping the toddler into her arms. Tiny arms latched around her neck and a warm soft cheek rested delicately on her shoulder. Long eyelashes ghosted against her neck as he closed his eyes, immediately quieting down and relaxing in the comfort and safety of his mother's arms.

She had never wanted children. Children were time-consuming inconveniences, needy and whiny and constantly demanding her attention. That, and she had to admit, taking care of another human life was an uncomfortably frightening thought. Nothing would have made her happier than to live a life completely of her choosing, a life in a safe, controlled environment where there were no accidents, no misconceptions and no confounding variables that could possibly distort her vision of perfection.

She hated accidents, and the baby was one of them. The nine months of pregnancy were a wretched, uncomfortable, painful awakening for her. She never knew her own body was capable of assaulting itself in such a way. The effects were permanent no matter how hard she had tried to hide them, taunting her with small daily reminders that she was not in control of her own life. Stretch marks, thinned hair, swelling breasts and a figure that seemed to belong to a strange, beastly alien. Someone else had ripped out a part of her without her consent, and she had never felt so angry, so completely and involuntarily exposed.

A scowl worked its way on her face as she held the annoyingly heavy baby in her arms. She sighed in exasperation, jostling the boy a little as she shifted him less gently than maybe she should have. The child stirred slightly, already sound asleep. A tiny hand came to rest against her chest, like a small reminder that he was still so young, and so innocent of whatever harm he had unintentionally caused her. She felt a breath she hadn't realized she was holding finally disengage as she watched him, sleeping peacefully with his soft, plumb body wrapped so trustfully around hers, hands so small and harmless, and a smile that would fool anybody into believing that adorable face was capable of nothing but affection and kindness.

At least he was cute, she thought disdainfully to herself.

Another sigh passed her lips as she carefully shifted him so his head laid delicately in her hands, gingerly placing him back into the crib. She took a moment to look down at him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest as he curled in to himself, his arm pillowing his head and his small hands curled into delicate fists.

Some things were out of her control. But some things always would be. Herself, her respectability, her marriage, her husband, even…him.

She stared at him, wondering at those deep blue eyes hiding behind closed eyelids. Bright and spirited, yet tantalizingly naive, just like his father. He reminded her so much of him. Weak and useless, and content to be so. Willing to bend over backwards for anything she wanted. Willing to be putty in her hands, so desperate for her love that he didn't care what she made him into, so long as he was hers. There was stability in their relationship only because she let it be so. There was love as long as he continued to fully, selflessly, and unrequitedly adore her.

And frankly, that was when she loved him the most.

She stared thoughtfully, feeling strangely elated as she considered those blue eyes, that dark mess of hair that resembled a certain someone's a little too perfectly, and that annoying cry - that pitiful whine that told her he would do anything he wanted to get the attention he so craved from her.

Maybe children weren't as difficult to manage as people said they were, she thought to herself.

Raising a manicured hand to the edge of the crib, she bent down to gently brush back the boy's dark hair and plant a small kiss on the crown of his head. The Once-ler continued to sleep soundly, unaware of the sudden display of affection he had received from his mother.

Some things were out of her control. But one thing was certain:

He definitely had his father's eyes.