Let us travel back in time, back to the good old days when Noah was still but a newborn and delve into the uncharacteristic insecurities of Levi.
Embrace
You would see it in his eyes.
A faint glimmer of panic in those crystal grey orbs any time she mentioned those little words.
He was always awkward in these situations, tried to avoid them as much as possible. Yes, he was the father, but that didn't necessarily mean that he had to be good at it instantly. It should have been in his blood to just naturally hold his new-born child, but it wasn't. Levi had yet to click on that paternal switch that magically made parents get along with their child, to know exactly what to do and how to do it.
It may not have occurred to anyone that Levi didn't get taught any of this parenthood stuff. He never really had a family, or parents to teach him any of this when he was growing up and his only father figure was him. So Levi had absolutely no idea what to do with kids, let alone hold them or take care of them.
He didn't know how to love; anything he liked or respected even the slightest bit had to fight its way into his life, and had to fight even harder to stay there. It was bizarre how this tiny lump of flesh before him had done absolutely nothing, simply existed, yet it had acquired every ounce of his affection that everyone else battled so hard to get even a glimpse of.
Levi could just stare at this little being for hours on end, so weak, frail and delicate, wondering how it had turned such a war hardened man as himself, into a sentimental slop. He would find himself smiling at the baby's sleeping form for no reason whatsoever – that he knew of, at least. Maybe it was the fatherly instincts in him, finally kicking in, filling him with such pride.
But then she would say something and all those silent thoughts and happiness would turn to fear and worry.
"Hold him," she would whisper, her sweet angelic voice lulling him out of his daydream back into the realm of reality.
The intimacy of the moment would be lost when she would add "I have to go pee!"
Panic would be evident in his eyes but she would be too occupied with hopping around to notice. She'd shove the infant into his arms and sprint off to the nearest restroom, leaving him standing there, frozen.
His hands would tremble as he'd try to remember everything they had told him. They mentioned something about supporting the baby's head, so that would be what he focused on. Somehow, the child would be held outstretched in front of him, the weight of its head held in one hand, while the other cradled the boy's legs. It would be awkward and he would dread it, silently cursing his inadequacy as a father and everybody else's incompetence for not having taught him the correct etiquettes for holding a child.
A sigh of relief would be emitted when she would return, humming happily to herself. She would chuckle at how amateurish he looks, finally realising his worries when she sees the anxiety in his eyes.
Once the baby is taken off of him and put back into the protected warmth of its cot, she would gently hold his hands, giving them a firm and reassuring squeeze to calm him down.
"Come on," she would say, taking his hand and leading him around the house.
He would uselessly ask where they were going; knowing she wouldn't reply, but he'd follow her none the less. He would have followed her to the ends of the earth if it meant salvage from his incapability to function as a regular human being; she knows what she's doing, he doesn't.
She would stop them in front of the utility room, opening the door to reveal the dozens of multi-coloured bottles of bleach, stain removers, cleaners and detergents.
"Hold this," she'd say, forcing three bottles of sprays into his arms, turning back to get more.
He doesn't know what to do with it all, he can't let them fall, that would make an even bigger mess and he can't put them down because she's still piling them on, making sure to put them in as uncomfortably as possible.
But he would manage to do it. One of his arms would be underneath it all, cradling the bulky weight while the other would be wrapped around, caging the bottles so they didn't fall.
Just as his arms are about to give in to the weight, she would stand up and put her hands around his to help him.
"See, you're doing it. Just hold him like you would your cleaning products," she'd smile.
"Are you degrading the value of my son to the same level as some chemicals in plastic bottles?"
"It was the only way you'd learn."