Sarek's fingers swept around the inside of Spock's mouth, which was a task made easier by the fact that Spock had spit out the large piece of porcelain and was now screaming at the full capacity of his lungs. He could feel no other broken shards, but there was too much blood to give him a clear picture of the extent of his injuries.
A flash of pain ripped through his left index finger, causing him to immediately recoil. Spock had bitten him hard enough to draw blood.
He gently pushed Spock's small jaw downward and turned his head toward the light to see deep lacerations on the roof of his mouth and on the inside of his lower gums.
Spock's cries were waning, but Sarek knew he needed to seek medical treatment for his son. The first aid dermal regenerator would be ineffective on the delicate epithelial cells lining the inside of his mouth, but it was of greater concern that he might have swallowed one or more of the broken porcelain pieces.
He gathered Spock and a clean white kitchen towel and headed for the garage. Amanda had left the child restraint seat by the door, so he put Spock down and set to work installing it in the back of his shuttlecar.
The number of straps was puzzling, as they folded over, under, and across other things in a needlessly elaborate and inefficient way. His finger was bleeding badly, but he chose to ignore it, and when he was nearly done with the restraints, he realized the garage was silent. Spock was no longer crying.
He looked over the top of the shuttlecar to see Spock holding a bottle of tetralubisol, a lubricant used in the maintenance of shuttlecars. Ingesting even a few milliliters would be fatal to an individual of his size.
It was apparent that leaving his son unsupervised for any length of time was imprudent, even when he was in his immediate vicinity.
"Spock, put that down," he said.
As he suspected might happen, Spock ignored his order. Sarek glided around the back of the shuttlecar and reached for the bottle, but was sprayed with a jet of the tetralubisol for his efforts. Spock yelped in surprise, and then began to laugh, which caused bloody spittle to fly from his mouth.
He depressed the nozzle again, sending another jet of the lubricant in Sarek's direction, and succumbed to a fit of uncontrollable giggling. Sarek seized the bottle with considerable force, causing Spock to shriek at the injustice.
"No!" Spock yelled. "I want that. Mine!"
"That bottle contains a dangerous chemical," he said firmly. "Do you understand what the word 'dangerous' means?"
Spock had no interest in his explanation, and feebly continued to reach for the bottle in Sarek's hands. He stared at his irrational son and suppressed his disapproval and incredulity. Given the events of the past three hours, it was extraordinary that Amanda had managed to keep him alive at all.
"You will not touch this," Sarek reiterated, motioning to the bottle.
Spock still showed no indication of listening, so Sarek stooped down and showed him the bottle at eye-level, and repeatedly pushed his tiny hands away.
"This is dangerous. This is bad."
"Bad?"
"Yes."
"But I want that."
"It is illogical to desire that which will kill you."
"Killyou?"
"Kill. You."
"Kill?"
He couldn't be sure Spock would understand such an abstract concept as death. It was obvious he had little regard for danger, but that was easily explained by his inexperience. He set the tetralubisol on a high shelf, deciding that in addition to researching typical behavior for a child his age, he would also research early cognitive development to gain a better understanding of what Spock could comprehend.
Sarek wiped bloody saliva from Spock's chin with the towel, deposited him into the seat, and after a few minutes of persistent whining and struggling, managed to situate himself in the driver's seat. He searched for the nearest emergency medical center and set a course, and as he backed the vehicle out of the garage, Spock began an ecstatic chorus of "Moving! Moving!"
"Yes," Sarek answered, curious why Spock would find that so remarkable.
It was also fascinating that his injuries could be so quickly forgotten, abandoned for the momentary joy of riding in a vehicle. His son was as easy to please as he was to frustrate.
Spock rambled cheerfully for the next ten minutes, providing rudimentary commentary on their shared experience, describing the "big mountains, big" and the soaring midday temperatures as "too too hot." Sarek corrected his speech when he made errors, and Spock readily accepted the corrections, repeating the modified version back to his father.
It was evident that Spock was intelligent and deeply curious of the world around him, but hindered by an inability to communicate or control himself with any degree of consistency. Until several hours before, he had wanted to fault Amanda's loving but ineffectual manner of caregiving, but his own logical approach was proving no better. It seemed more comprehensive measures were appropriate for molding their son into a more effective and restrained individuals.
When he turned off the rural highway into the outer suburbs of Shi'Kahr, he felt Spock start to struggle in the safety seat behind him.
"Remain in your seat," he said, glancing the rear monitor.
He heard a distinctive click and recognized it as the sound of a restraint buckle. He tried adjusting the angle of the monitor but still could not clearly see Spock. It had been an oversight to place him in the seat directly behind his own.
"Spock, do not unfasten your harness. Do you understand?"
Spock's head popped up over his shoulder.
"Hello!"
"Spock, sit down," Sarek said decisively. "Sit down right now."
Spock crawled down to the floorboard and Sarek could feel him moving behind the back of his seat. He weighed his options. He was on a busy section of highway and less than two minutes from the emergency facility, therefore it would be logical to continue despite the higher risk Spock faced while being unrestrained.
He watched the rear monitor carefully, and observed Spock crawling up onto the wide backseat.
"Spock, sit."
Spock shuffled on his hands and knees into a sitting position and smiled at Sarek.
"Sitting," he proclaimed proudly. "Right now."
Sarek left the highway and merged onto the city streets below, watching the navigation unit while attempting to visually identify the medical facility. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Spock standing, looking eagerly at the cityscape that lay before him.
"Spock, I told you to remain seated," Sarek said, raising his voice.
Spock looked at him innocently and Sarek was about to repeat himself when he sensed something was wrong. He snapped his head forward – traffic had stopped. He engaged the shuttlecar's braking system and felt the shudder of mechanical components and the hiss of hydraulics.
Inertia went to work on Spock, reducing him to a demonstration of elementary physics. The sudden shift in speed hurled Spock into the back of the passenger seat, and as had happened numerous times that morning, a symphony of misery commenced.
Two minutes later, Sarek pulled into the circular front drive of the hospital and extracted Spock from the passenger floorboard. His hysterics had mostly subsided, but he had hit the right side of his face on the back of the passenger seat armrest. It seemed likely he would have another bruise to match the one already forming on the left side of his face from when Sarek had hit him with the door.
Amanda would be very upset.
"Spock, you were told to remain in your restraints and did not comply, and you were injured as a result. Can you understand this? If you choose to disobey my instructions, you may get hurt."
"Hurt? Yes, it hurt."
"It hurts," he corrected.
His son's face was the very definition of disinterest and fatigue, and Sarek knew the lesson was being disregarded.
A man from the hospital valet collected the car and Sarek carried Spock into the reception area. An intake nurse took their information and listened patiently as he explained the bruises on his face, cuts in his mouth, and poorly mended laceration on his chin. She quickly triaged Spock, taking his vitals and assessing his injuries for herself. She sniffed slightly and looked at Sarek.
"There is a chemical odor I cannot identify. Has he been exposed to anything?"
"He obtained a bottle of tetralubisol, but he did ingest any."
The nurse looked at him carefully and asked, "Are you the child's primary caregiver?"
"No, my wife is."
"I see," she said, taking note of something on a PADD.
"Have a seat and the healer will be with you shortly."
Sarek herded Spock to a small side room with fewer patients, occupied only by a woman and a small female child of Spock's approximate age. Sarek moved to take a seat at the opposite end of the room and motioned for Spock to join him, but he raced in the direction of the small girl playing with several dozen memory blocks.
"Spock," he called.
"If you have no objection, I do not mind if they interact," the woman explained. "Collaborative efforts are beneficial at their age."
Sarek nodded slightly and sat down several seats away from her to observe his son. Though Amanda made considerable effort to expose Spock to things outside the home, he did not frequently come into contact with children his age.
He noticed the girl had a deep cut in her lip and smelled mildly of burnt hair. Upon closer inspection, he could see most of the thin hair on the back of her scalp was much shorter than the rest. He was tempted to inquire about the girl's behavior as a means of comparing it with his son's, but decided it would be untoward to pry and the information he obtained would be anecdotal.
He watched the two children instead, fascinated by their interaction. The girl was attempting to teach Spock the simple rules of her block game, but Spock seemed more interested in her. She grew bored with Spock's inattention, stood, and kicked the blocks into his face before skipping in the direction of her mother.
Spock chased after her and she shoved him hard in the chest, knocking him backwards. Sarek expected another fit, but none came: Spock seemed too transfixed by the girl to care about her physical assault and stood to pursue her a second time.
The women took her daughter's hands, drew her close, and said "T'Kosa, that was unacceptable."
It was a simple statement made with direct eye contact, and something about their posture led Sarek to suspect they were communicating telepathically. All Vulcan parents initiated bonds with their children at birth, but Sarek had never attempted to reach his son's mind in this way. He could not recall either of his parents ever linking their minds to his to speak to him, and so he had never considered it with his own child. It was certainly a thought.
A nurse called for them, so Sarek gathered Spock and followed her to a small room down a long hallway. The healer quickly scanned Spock, and though she declared his digestive tract free of porcelain debris, she extracted a piece of dried fruit that had been lodged in his left nostril. She used a specialized dermal regenerator to repair the damage to the inside of his mouth, but was unable to make Spock's bruises fade any quicker than they naturally would.
Spock was enamored with the healer and reached for her each time she returned to her workstation to make notes, squirming in Sarek's lap to chase after her. As she prepared discharge documents, he became aware of a distinct odor, and knew Spock had soiled himself. The healer noticed also, and glanced around the room.
"Did you bring additional supplies to care for him?" she asked.
No, he hadn't.
Amanda always carried an oversized brown bag full of diapers, wipes, snacks, toys, blankets, power packs, and various other accessories. She had left it for him by the door, but in his rush to get Spock to the hospital, he had forgotten it.
A nurse took Spock to change him into a clean diaper and the healer turned to the bite on his finger, which left Sarek free to ask about his son.
"At what age are children normally toilet-trained?"
"Between two and three years of age, most parents choose to begin toilet-training as their child demonstrates certain physical, behavioral, and cognitive signs."
"Specify."
"A child may show a desire for autonomy, and as he becomes capable of feeding or dressing himself with moderate proficiency, that can be an indication that he is capable of learning to use the toilet on his own. Your son might be too immature to begin training at this juncture, but he is showing signs he will be ready soon."
"This morning Spock undressed himself twice. Is this…"
"Typical? Yes. It is also one of the signs he is ready to start learning to use a toilet independently. Many children begin undressing as a means of relieving themselves of uncomfortable clothing, seeking attention, or simply to perform a newly acquired skill."
"He often refuses to comply with simple instructions which I am certain he understands-"
"Which is also common for a child his age."
"I am merely concerned that he is not developing the control necessary to properly function. As he is half human, I-"
"Ambassador Sarek, I do not specialize in child development, but I have five children of my own," she interrupted. "I believe your son is quite normal. I am not as familiar with early human development, but from personal and professional experience, Spock does not appear to be atypical for a Vulcan child. If you are truly concerned, I can refer to you a developmental specialist, but in my professional opinion, that would be unnecessary."
"I understand that all children can be challenging at times, but Spock seems to be exceptionally willful and prone to illogic and injury."
"Prolonged periods of defiance and illogic are nearly universal in very young, sentient children of almost all species. Most Vulcan children are not capable of formal logic training until age four because they lack the requisite self-control and attention. Therefore it is impractical to attempt to reason with Spock: he must simply be told what is expected of him, and what is incorrect behavior."
The nurse returned with Spock, who clapped with delight upon seeing the healer again. Sarek glanced at her, and she reiterated, "This is also not unusual behavior."
Sarek stood and thanked the nurse, and half an hour later they left the hospital. He permitted him to walk rather than carry him, and Spock willingly allowed himself to be strapped into the safety seat. He closed the rear door and spoke briefly to the valet, who mentioned a problem with the shuttlecar's rear reaction control system.
When Sarek reached for the door handle, he found it locked. He peered through the tinted windows and discovered Spock free of his restraint harness and playing with the automated locks, which were precariously close to the ignition system.
His son unquestionably needed guidance, but it was proving difficult enough to stay one step ahead of his innate desire for terrorism, danger, and injury. Surely this could not be normal.