Owen scooped up their son as Nathaniel, who was too giddy at the idea of running into the calm warm ocean water to join his parents, fell over with a loud splash. That was the thing about Nathaniel, he had no fear except that if he saw something that fascinated him then he wanted to be a part of it and get involved. That was why he had begun to run towards his parents as they stood several metres into the ocean. It wasn't so deep to the adults, but it would have reached just above Nathaniel's knees if he had made it to them. Luckily his father had rushed over to him in time. Though not in enough time to stop the little boy from falling over. There was once a time, when the young Grady had been a baby, that whenever he was scared or hurt he would immediately insist that his mother comfort him, and for the times that he did get scared or hurt while Claire was around she would comfort him right away, holding him tight in her arms and rocking him back and forth with a steady hushing sound. But nowadays Nathaniel was tumbling over or falling off things so frequently that his father had taught him to get straight up, dust himself off and, if his father was nearby, give him a high five for bravery. Claire was still protective of her little boy though, and the moment she arrived beside Owen, she plucked their son out of his arms and placed him on her hip, trying (and failing) to rub down the soggy sand from Nathaniel's front.
"Right, we'd better get back to the house." Owen heard his girlfriend say to their son as they walked out of the ocean and over to the yellow bucket that boasted three large fish, her voice wavering slightly and he understood why. She was always terrified something terrible might happen to their son because he was always so adventurous. Their almost-three year old had always been fearless, adventurous, and curious. Owen remembered the moment Nathaniel took his first step. It had fortunately fallen on a Sunday, the only day that Claire took off from all responsibilities and let her second in command be in charge of the park. Sunday's were the day that Claire switched her cell off, and instead left the house phone as an option for her colleagues to ring if they needed her in an emergency. Claire's second in command, Melanie, was highly organised, confident, and competent. This meant that Claire was never stressed on her day off. Except for that day their son took his first step.
Owen switched the shower off, stepping out onto the soft rug on the bathroom floor and reached out for one of the large white towels on the towel rack before wrapping it around his wet body. He had just been for a refreshing early morning run and his shower immediately following was one of his favourite parts of the day. One of them. It was a time to mentally prepare himself for the day ahead while he let his girlfriend sprawl out in their king-size bed on her day off. He'd snuck straight into the bathroom following his run, being careful not to wake his son who somehow had a super-human sense of hearing. Waking his son whilst in the shower would mean that Claire would have to get up to tend to their one year old, who seemed to have all the energy in the world the moment he woke up in the morning. One thing was for sure, putting black-out-blinds in Nathaniel's bedroom when they were decorating it had been one of the best decisions they had ever made. No light entered that room, which meant Nathaniel would normally wake around 8am on a Sunday morning as neither Claire nor Owen had work, giving them the opportunity for a lay-in.
Owen gently crept across the floorboards of the bathroom, screwing his face up as he ever-so delicately twisted the handle of the bathroom door and opened it, stepping out onto the landing. He decided against closing the door behind him for fear that it may be enough to wake the sleeping baby in the house and instead crept through to his bedroom. A few silent paces in and he froze. He looked over at the bed and there lay his girlfriend, dressed in her pyjama short-shorts and strappy top, laying on her right side, fast asleep. Her right arm lay outstretched along the mattress as her long red hair was tied up in a messy bun at the back of her head. And curled up beside her, his face nestled into her bosom as he slept, was their son. Nathaniel had turned one a few weeks ago. A relatively quiet affair. Well, quiet meaning it had just been the three of them. Their little boy was far from quiet though. He chatted away to himself, to either of his parents, or even both of them together, all in his own jumbled baby jargon. They couldn't wait for him to talk properly.
Owen had to admit it was both wonderful and unusual to see his son so quiet. And still. And peaceful. He hoped he hadn't woken the little boy up, but regardless it looked like at some point between him leaving the room to go on his run and him returning from the bathroom Claire had got up to bring their baby into bed with her. For someone who had claimed she had no idea how to be a mother and how terrified she was that she would mess things up, she was doing a fantastic job. Owen wondered if he could somehow crawl back into bed, curl up behind Claire, and enjoy the peaceful Sunday morning as a little calm family. But as he stepped closer to the bed his foot fell onto a book that had buttons on it. Each time the button was pressed it would make a loud sound. The second Owen felt the book beneath his right foot his heart fell and he hung his head in disappointment as the book of farm animals made a loud ' moooooo ' noise. The man froze, hoping it hadn't woken either member of his little family laying before him. He noticed Nathaniel stir and he held his breath. The baby, however, simply brought his head away from his mother's bosom, rubbed his right eye sleepily with his right fist, and then with a heavy sigh resumed his snoozing position. Owen let out a sigh of relief, stepping off the book.
"If he wakes up again in the next ten minutes you'll be the one taking him downstairs." He heard his girlfriend mumble sleepily. She sounded unimpressed by his noisy entrance and he didn't blame her. They were finally beginning to have longer blocks of sleep overnight between Nathaniel waking up and crying, but he still took a long time to get to sleep in the evenings and woke a good three or four times in the night because the atmosphere on the island was so muggy. The couple took it in turns to go into the nursery and try to calm their son if he cried, though normally all it took was for Nathaniel to mumble through the baby monitor in his sleep before Claire wanted to get up and sit in the rocking chair beside his cot. The past few nights Owen had managed to persuade her to stay in bed and only go to their son if he cried. Which she had done. And it seemed to work. She appeared to be better rested. For now.
"Deal" Owen whispered back to Claire and he noticed a smile spread across her face as she turned to look at him. Owen motioned to their son, then put his thumbs up, and she let out a short burst of breath as a form of silent giggle, before rolling her eyes and turning back to the baby in her arms. Owen watched as his girlfriend brought up her left hand that had been perfectly sat around their baby boy's diaper-clad bottom, and glazed her fingertip delicately over Nathaniel's soft right arm. She was made to be a mother. No matter what she had said in the past, motherhood suited her. Owen crept around to his side of the bed, letting the towel drop from his dry body, and eased his way into the bed, pulling the covers over himself. He leant over Claire's shoulder to look down at their sleeping son with a smile. His girlfriend turned her head to look up at him with a sleepy smile, and he bent down to place a kiss on her lips. He lingered his mouth against hers for longer than he had first expected to and he felt Claire pursue the kiss further, leaning into him as best she could, and before long their kiss had deepened. Owen shifted his body weight to get into a better angle for the kiss but in doing so nudged Claire's body, which nudged their baby's body. The couple froze and Owen heard Claire sigh as their son let out a groggy whine before waking up. The silence was broken. The father didn't wait for any instructions from the mother, he knew what was required of him, and so he rolled out of bed, slipped on some sweatpants, and wandered around to the other side of the bed.
"Come on Monkey," he said, scooping his son up from Claire's arms, "we need to give Mommy a rest" and Owen bent down to give his girlfriend a kiss, leant Nathaniel down so she could place a kiss on his cheek, then stood up straight again. He let out a small chuckle as he watched Claire collapse back in the bed with a sleepy, grateful grin on her face, and Owen began making his way out of the room. The baby however wriggled so much in his father's arms that Owen was left with no choice but to place his son down on the laminate floor of the bedroom by the door. The man started to make his way over to the stair-gate at the top of the stairs, expecting to hear the squeak of his son's knees on the laminate floor as Nathaniel crawled after him across the landing. That was normally the little Grady's move. But Owen turned with a gentle frown as he heard a small gasp sound from Claire. He noticed she had sat up in bed looking through the open door and a few metres before him, stood on his own two feet and about one footstep away from the bedroom doorframe, was Nathaniel. The baby wobbled on his legs, keeping his left hand on the doorframe, his right arm held out to help keep his balance, but he was standing. All on his own! Owen grinned as his son looked over at him longingly with a big smile over his face, so the father knelt down on one knee and held his arms out, "Come on Nate". The baby wobbled on his legs excitably to see his father at eye-level, but he heard his mother shuffling on the bed behind him to get a better view, pulled his left hand away from the door as he turned to look at her and lost his balance. He fell with a loud slap, as he fell face first onto the floorboards of the landing, and Owen immediately dove forward to scoop their crying son up while Claire jumped out of bed to join them.
It still hurt a bit inside when his one year old son chose Claire over him in most given situations, particularly if he was scared or, like now, hurt, and Owen reluctantly handed his son over to Claire who had joined them on the floor of the doorway because Nathaniel, who was crying, had immediately struggled in his father's arms to get over to his mother. Owen watched as his girlfriend rocked their son, hushing the baby soothingly until he stopped crying. It didn't matter how much it hurt him inside, it still gave him a wave of pride to see how good she was with their son. And besides, since returning to work eight months ago, following a much longer stint of maternity leave than she had first planned during her pregnancy, Claire didn't get to see as much of her son as Owen knew that she wanted to. She was the boss yes, and she created her own working pattern, but it was because she was the boss that she needed to be present within the working areas of the island. It didn't stop her coming home at 5pm most days though. And by then Owen had had a long enough day with his exhausting baby son that it was always a relief to see her walk through the door.
Nathaniel stopped crying, was still curled up in his mother's arms, and had managed to grab a loose lock of her red hair that had escaped the messy bun on her head. The baby squeezed the lock between his fingers as a form of comfort while his mother pushed back his soft blonde hair that had grown a fair bit in recent months. Owen noticed a large red mark on his son's forehead and figured he'd bumped it on the floor when he had fallen. He heard Claire let out a little disappointed groan and knew she had spotted the bump too. "Naaaate !" she exclaimed under her breath as she inspected the bump closely. Their baby just looked up at his mother with his big green eyes, and a big grin grew on his face which was enough for his parents to each let out a giggle.
Owen bent down to pick the large yellow bucket up, brought his right arm around Claire's waist, and the little family walked across the sand together with smiles on their faces whilst caked in mud and ocean water. Suddenly Nathaniel wriggled, exclaiming that he wanted to get down and walk. Despite Claire's best efforts to keep hold of him the little boy was having none of it and eventually the woman was left with no choice but to stop and put him back down on the sand, whilst telling him to walk alongside them. But their son had ignored his mother, and ran around her, behind his parents, and to the other side of his father. His little hands took hold of a spare bit of the bucket handle, "I'll help!" he squeaked and Owen sighed. If the three year old helped it would take them ages to get back up to the house and Owen needed to prepare the fish and fire up the BBQ.
"Nate, Daddy needs to carry the bucket on his own," he heard his girlfriend say to his right, but their son kept hold of the bucket handle while they walked, "Nate are you listening to me?" Owen looked down at his little boy who maintained his concentration on the fish in the bucket he was helping to carry whilst his mother's tone became more threatening, "Nathaniel!" the couple stopped and looked down at their son who was looking up at them with a frown on his face, but his mother continued talking to him, "The bucket is too heavy so let Daddy carry it on his own!" Owen hid his smirk as he saw the blonde boy let go of the bucket handle and place his little hands on his hips instead. It didn't matter how much his son looked like him, so many of his mannerisms were Claire's. He was determined and often stubborn and hated not getting his own way, much like his mother. But Owen wasn't sure where Nathaniel had picked up the hands-on-hips thing as Claire rarely had a reason to get angry about anything at home - he was left with the only other option which was perhaps the almost-three year old had noticed his mother do it when she took him into the office with her on Thursday's. So the little blonde boy stood with his hands on his hips, staring up at them with his big green eyes, his freckles covering the skin around the top of his cheeks and nose, and he raised his little eyebrows, "If the bucket is that heavy Mommy then Daddy really needs my help."
Owen couldn't hold back his smirk any longer and he felt his girlfriend sigh by his side. She knew their son had won this argument, and Owen knew she was too tired to fight it out, so the red head looked up at him and he looked down at their son with a smile, "Come on then" and the little boy grinned back at his father, taking hold of the handle again, while Owen bent down to his left slightly so it made it easier for his son to 'help'. The family began slowly walking towards the wooden steps of the cove that would lead them up to their back garden.
"See, I was only trying to help, wasn't I Daddy!" he heard Nathaniel pipe up as the little boy screwed his face, pretending to work really hard at helping to carry the bucket, and Owen shot a grin at Claire who shook her head slightly with a relaxed smile. He knew she hated losing arguments, but there was only one person in the world who she easily surrendered to, and that was their son.