"You're going to make him nauseous," Sheldon warned. He was watching Penny play with Caleb. She was bouncing the little boy up and down on her knee, barely five minutes after he had finished his dinner. Of course, Penny ignored him and kept right on rough-housing with him, singing a nursery rhyme. The little boy apparently loved it, from the huge grins and squeals he was making. Sheldon eyed the pair nervously. They were sitting right next to his 0,0,0,0 spot on the couch. "Are you familiar with the term 'projectile vomiting'? If you make him sick, I won't be the one to clean it up."
Penny made a face at him, but in a moment she stopped giving Caleb "horsey rides" and instead got down on the floor with him to build a block tower. As usual, the toddler knocked it over and then clapped his hands. He watched them, feeling faintly uneasy. Since Caleb's arrival, he had started mopping the floor on a daily basis, but he still couldn't quite suppress a shudder at seeing his son playing on the floor. He might have been able to ignore it, if he hadn't already been nervous about the topic that he wanted to discuss with Penny.
"There is a matter of some urgency that I wish to speak to you about," he began. Immediately, her head whipped around to face him. With a quick pat on Caleb's head, she hurried to his side. "What is it? Is something wrong with him?"
He was once again amazed by her instinctual reaction to the slightest hint of a problem with Caleb. Although she wasn't the boy's mother, she was the closest thing he had to a mother.
He answered, "I took him to see a speech therapist today."
"Oh, right." Her posture lost some of its rigidity. "Wait, what did the therapist say? Is he going to be okay?"
"Yes, at least I hope so." Still keeping an eye on Caleb, he sat down on the leather couch. "She said there's nothing physically wrong with his larynx or tongue that would cause an obstruction. Developmentally, he meets or exceeds all other milestones for infants his age. So her conclusion was the same as what you initially suggested: emotional trauma." He was silent for a long time, watching his son. Finally, he said quietly, "For the first time in my life, I find myself facing a challenge which may be greater than my abilities. I don't know how ordinary people deal with circumstances such as these."
Penny sat down next to him, choosing not to take offense at his words. "We have friends who help us. We ask for help when we need it, and we do things that relieve stress, even if it's something that doesn't make logical sense - like buying shoes or playing video games."
He sighed. "Hence my dilemma. There is a therapeutic play group that she recommended for Caleb. It meets on Wednesday nights."
"But that's new comic book… oh, I get it now. So what are you going to do?"
His mouth twisted. "I suppose I can't sacrifice my son's health and future for an evening of whimsy and long-standing tradition with my closest friends."
Penny scooted a little closer to him and laid her hand on top of his where it was resting on his knee. Far from minding the physical contact, at the moment, the warmth of her hand felt soothing. It anchored him at a time when every decision he made took him further away from his comfortable, routine existence.
"You don't have to give up new comic book night, you know," she told him softly.
He frowned at her curiously. "Are you offering to take him in my stead? I was led to believe that my presence was, if not mandatory, then strongly recommended. There will be verbal exercises which we will need to practice at home."
"No, what I mean is that new comic book night doesn't have to be on a Wednesday."
Sheldon was quickly shaking his head. "Wednesdays are when Stuart receives his shipments. That's when he gets new comic books. So new comic book night is Wednesday."
"Shel-don," she drawled, exasperated. "Just have Stuart set aside the ones you normally buy. They come in a series, right? So just have him write down which ones you want, and he can hold them for you. I'm sure he'd be willing to do that, especially if you suggested he could charge a small fee for the service."
Her suggestion was surprisingly logical, and yet that knowledge didn't comfort him. He sighed heavily. "It won't be the same."
She squeezed his hand, and he looked down, startled to find that she was still touching him. Misunderstanding the look he gave her, she withdrew her hand. "I know, honey, but you're doing the right thing, and I'm really proud of you."
Once again, her words affected him deeply. Her confidence in him made him feel like a man, not an overgrown boy. There were times when he wished he could let her know how much her support meant to him. He had already sent her a bouquet of flowers, but he was beginning to suspect there was no gift that would adequately express his gratitude.
The next evening, Sheldon told her that the guys had agreed to reschedule their night out at Stuart's comic book shop, although not without reservations.
"What could they possibly care? It's not like they're the ones taking care of a kid," Penny objected.
He pressed his lips together in a flat line. "Actually, they expressed disbelief that I might inconvenience myself for the sake of another person, even if the person in question is my own offspring."
She dropped her fork. "Seriously? What the hell? They're supposed to be your friends, and all they can do is give you a hard time."
He sighed. "Ever since I took custody of Caleb, my free time in the evenings has been significantly reduced. The four of us spend less time together, giving them plenty of opportunities for activities of which I do not approve, namely the pursuit of coitus. From certain comments they have made, I believe they enjoy their evenings more when I am not present, and so they are reluctant to accommodate the changes I have requested."
Penny stared at him, shaking her head slowly. "That's terrible. Okay, honey, put down your takeout for a minute."
"Why?" he asked as he complied.
"Because I need to give you a hug," she said as she wrapped her arms around him. "I know you don't like touching, but I have to do something to show you that I'm on your side."
He closed his eyes and inhaled the green apple scent of her hair. "I suppose I have grown accustomed to you touching me," he confessed. In fact, lately he had been finding it rather… nice. It still made him feel twitchy, but somehow, her nearness wasn't entirely a bad thing. He scoffed at the foolish direction of his thoughts: a few weeks of raising a child, and he was turning into a hippie.
Sheldon, holding his son in his arms, trailed behind Penny as she walked into the therapy room. The room looked very much like a toddler play area, decorated in bright colors, although there were few toys to distract the toddlers. Several people were already sitting in a circle on the floor, which was covered with a thick foam padding. It was a relatively small group; with him and Penny added, there were eleven adults, and only one other man. Penny joined the circle and began chatting with the woman on her right. Sheldon glanced at the floor and then hesitated, looking around for a chair. He didn't see any, and immediately, he began to perspire. Did these strangers really expect him to sit on the floor that their shoes-and those of countless others-had walked on, depositing microscopic particles of toxic lawn chemicals, automobile exhaust, animal excrement and goodness only knows what else-
"Sheldon, sit," Penny hissed, tugging on his pant leg. He looked down to see that she had joined the circle, sitting cross-legged. He couldn't help but notice the way her short skirt had ridden up, exposing far too much of those long, perfectly tanned legs of hers. His thoughts disconcerted him even more, and at a second tug from Penny, he sat with all the grace of a marionette whose strings had been cut. The one woman without a child on her lap was the therapist with whom he had recently had the appointment. She introduced herself as Lisa, and then they went around the circle, each of the parents introducing themselves and their child. A few of the women made eye contact with him and smiled as they said their names, which made him nervous. He had no idea what they expected of him. After the woman on his left spoke, it was his turn.
"I'm Dr. Sheldon Cooper, PhD. This is my son Caleb…" he hesitated. "And this is Penny; she's a friend." Penny gave him a quick glance he couldn't decipher, and then smiled and waved at the group.
The rest of the 45-minute session dragged by slowly. They sang songs and babbled sounds, trying to get their children to mimic them. Caleb seemed to warm up to the group after a while, and he even made a few consonant sounds… at Penny's prompting. Sheldon watched as she beamed at his son, and for a moment, he was almost jealous. He couldn't remember a time when anyone had ever given him such whole-hearted approval. His own friendship with Penny was fraught with hidden pitfalls. He never knew when he would say something which would incur her wrath, although her defense of Caleb was absolute… like a mother's, he thought. He had never felt that his mother had been entirely comfortable around him, and he realized that he interacted with his son in much the same fashion. He needed Penny's influence to become a better father. He had come to depend on her in so many ways.