June 1991 – 4 Months Old

In the misty morning dimness of a small bedroom in Oia, Holt rolled to his stomach in his crib and lifted his head, grasping at the sheets, finally fisting a small handful. He released a soft screech of happiness, feeling as accomplished as an infant can, having captured the fabric. He gave the sheet a tug, trying to bring it to his mouth, grunting with frustration when he was unable to move the desired object any closer. His grunts growing louder in conjunction with his determination, he tried to find purchase with his toes to push himself closer towards his treasure.

Across the room, a small figure stirred in her bed, the unfamiliar pre-dawn sounds rousing her. Pushing herself up to peer around the room, Sophie saw the baby moving about in his crib, his head flopping forward then rearing back again, as he quietly squawked his discontent. Shoving back her sheets, she climbed from the bed and walked across the room to peer through the slats.

"Whatsa matter, baby?" she whispered, drawing Holt's eyes to her for a scant moment before he returned his focus to his quest, struggling to keep his head up, the more tired he became from his exertion.

Staring at him pensively, Sophia finally reached through the slats to pat the baby, only to have him flail an unmeaning hand towards hers, inadvertently clutching her finger. Blinking, he tried to draw her finger towards his mouth. She'd seen him act similarly enough over the past few weeks, and Laura and Remington's response to it, that understanding dawned. Pulling her finger free from his grasp, she silently left the bedroom and padded to the living room, where she grabbed his pacifier off the coffee table.

Holt released an audible sigh, when Sophie reached through the slats again, this time to press the pacifier against his lips. Drawing the nipple fully into his mouth, his head dropped to the mattress and he closed his eyes.

"Night night, baby," she whispered, then tiptoed across the room and crawled back into her bed.


Laura sat up in bed and drew her hands through her hair at the sound of Holt's cries coming through the monitor. As she glanced at the clock on the bedside table, Remington stirred beside her.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I'll get the baby this morning," she whispered next to his ear while her fingers tips traipsed through his tousled hair. At his hum of grateful agreement, she sat up and reached for her robe, drawing it on as she crossed the hallway to the bedroom across from theirs. She picked up the baby from his crib, her brows drawing together briefly, and she reached into the crib to pick up his pacifier while her eyes took in her still sleeping girls. As Holt suckled the pacifier, Laura cracked the bedroom door closed and walked to the kitchen where she prepared him a bottle, before returning to the bedroom to sit in the rocking chair tucked into a corner.

She looked up as Remington stirred, watched as his hand sought her, before rolling his side to prop himself up on an arm and peer at the empty sheets, before his eyes automatically shifted to the rocking chair. Finding her there, holding the baby, he flopped back down on the bed and rubbed his hands up and down his face, as he shook off the last remnants of sleep.

"The girls?" he asked.

"Still sleeping," she answered. He grunted in answer, then dropped his hands and offered more coherent input.

"I imagine so. They had quite the long day yesterday."

"Mmmmm, they did," she agreed. "Myself as well, it would seem… Even more so than I realized," she added, pensively. He raised his brows in interest.

"Oh? How so?" Her brows mimicked his own, although she looked at him ruefully.

"I found Holt's pacifier in the crib." She shrugged a shoulder, as she set the baby's bottle aside, then lifted him to her shoulder to burp him. "I could have sworn I put it on the coffee table before we went to bed. But…"

"Sounds like you could use a bit more horizontal time," he observed, lifting the sheet in invitation. Without hesitation, she stood with the baby, and crossed the room to slip back under the sheets.

"An invitation I can't possibly resist," she admitted, as she curled up on her side facing away from him, tucking the baby up against herself, then waited for him to wrap himself around her slim frame. Only when his long arm secured both she and the baby in his embrace, did she close her eyes, listening as Holt gurgled contentedly while playing with his father's fingers.