Three Months Old
Varian was laying flat on his stomach in the middle of the living room floor. Every so often, he flailed a little, kicking his legs up behind him as he pummeled the ground with his tiny fists. But nothing much happened aside from that.
Quirin was laying on his stomach, watching his son's attempts to roll over. He could see that the small infant was slowly getting frustrated at his lack of progress, but whenever he felt like giving up, his stubbornness kicked in and he would try again.
"Come on, kiddo," Quirin whispered, smiling a little, "you can do it. I believe in you."
Varian looked up at his father with those wide, curious blue eyes of his and made a sound that was part coo, part gurgle. Quirin chuckled a little.
"You've got this, son."
Again, Varian flailed about to no avail. By now, even his stubborn streak was beginning to fade a little, slowly but surely being replaced by a sense of hopelessness. He wrinkled his face up like he was about to start crying, but then he met his father's eyes once again.
Determination seemed to set in one last time as he looked at Quirin's expression. Setting his jaw, Varian flailed his legs again, using his arms to assist him as he began to lean to one side, finally seeming to realize that he needed to throw his weight around a little. And, as Quirin watched, his son rolled over right before his eyes, landing flat on his back.
He grinned, reaching over to gently tickle Varian's tummy- he was rewarded for that with a loud, delighted squeal- as he moved closer to the infant. "See, son? I knew you could do it."
He then picked his young son up and rested him on his chest, knowing full well that they were both ready for a nice, long nap.