Thank you for the reviews, favs, and follows! They are much appreciated. I apologize for making you wait for the finale. As we know by now, though, that is par for the course when it comes to me. Heh, heh, heh… *major facepalm*
Anyways, even though we're way past Mother's Day now (and it's literally about to be Father's Day. Pft, me and my timing), I figured I might as well just finish a dang story for a change.
Hope you enjoy this final chapter!
Disclaimer: I do own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters. I just own this story.
Mommy
"Bye, Mr. Krabs! Thanks again!" SpongeBob waved.
"Not a problem, boy-o! You two have a good rest of your day! Heh," Mr. Krabs smirked to himself, his claws planted on his hips. "The lad should be thankin' me. His money's gonna be ten times happier inside its new wallet house. Arg arg arg arg arg arg!"
"Eugene! You'd better be givin' me the Mother's Day discount!" Betsy Krabs shouted from a table.
"Mother's Day discount? But Mommy!"
"No buts! Now get over here and rub me foot stubs like ye promised!"
"Yes, Mommy." Eye stalks drooping in shame, he refrained from stomping childishly on his way over to her.
He really wished he had gotten her another one of those funeral hats instead. He would've even been willing to buy a new one this time, rather than snatching it off a dead person's head.
"Woo! Oh, yeah, that hit the spot, eh, Mom?" SpongeBob slurred, dragging his feet out of the Krusty Krab. It felt like he had ingested a bowling ball, sporting a stomach that suggested he was going to become a mother himself soon.
Margaret responded in a fashion that certainly wasn't "polite and ladylike", as the women in her book club liked to brag about being. But boy, did it feel good to release that long, ear-piercing burp after the large kelp cola she guzzled.
"Ooh! Excuse me!"
"BAHAHAHA! Whoaaa, you sounded like Patrick after he fills his belly with a can of cheese fizz. Or after he fills with his belly with anything, really."
At 1:00 p.m. on the dot, the two approached the car with bright smiles and an extra-large spring in their step. Time to once again set sail on the boat of adventure!
Well, they were still riding in a rather human-like station wagon, but the fun thought process worked perfectly, nonetheless. And speaking of the trusty vehicle, it was nice of Harold to rent a car for his business trip so that his wife was able to transport herself wherever she needed to.
Rather unfortunate, though, that the best the rent-a-boat had to offer was an old jalopy that Harold had to push the final few miles to his destination. And to make matters worse, roadside assistance wasn't much help, seeing as how the man who came by to tow the boat was also driving one that could only be described as being on its last wheel. But at least they had the "Road Song" to keep themselves occupied with while pushing two boats up a hill in the heat.
"That Patrick truly is one of a kind, isn't he?" Margaret asked with a laugh, strapping herself into her seat as SpongeBob found himself trying to squeeze through the door due to the basketball under his shirt.
"Ohhh, yeah, he sure is. Hey, y-you remember the time… the… the timeeee!"
She just couldn't stifle her laughter. The sight of this already tiny man failing to fit through a car door that was big enough to accommodate her when she looked like she had swallowed a huge brick made no sense but was sweetly amusing, kind of like him as a person.
"Here, dear, let me help you." Her hands brought his wrists into a tight grip that made him pause.
"On the count of three. One, two… "
"Say, Mom, you're really strong! Have you been working OWWWW-OUUUUTTT!"
"Whoops, I forgot to say three. And sure, if you consider housework to be just as good as doing push-ups."
Dear Neptune above! The force that woman possessed was something he hadn't experienced since… well, whenever he and Sandy played karate. Maybe he ought to set something up between those two some time.
SpongeBob sat slouchy in the chair, his eyes crossed from the pain in his arms. It was a wonder how they didn't come out of their sockets. "Ha, ha, ha! Well, after that," he rubbed his shoulder, "I do."
She smiled at his gratefulness for all the backbreaking work she'd put into taking care of their home. And changing his diaper every day and night. And cooking his meals. And helping him clean his room and do his homework, never losing patience when he didn't understand a question. Not to mention brushing his teeth, and reading him bedtime stories, and helping him get dressed and–
Wow.
Yes, Harold was there for him as much as he could be when he wasn't working outside the house, but this lady… she was everything.
Being a mom was a job in of itself, wasn't it? If only more folks understood and appreciated that fact of so many people's lives.
"What do you think we should do now, honey?" she asked, hands resting on the steering wheel.
"Hmmm," SpongeBob tapped his fingers against his lips. "How about… "
"Cue the fun and sugary-sweet afternoon required by many episodes," said the French Narrator.
The musical theme "Sixty's Happy Times" enhanced the carefree atmosphere of their outing. It was a tune for people to tap their fins to, daydream to on the beach of Goo Lagoon, or hum along with inside a fancy hair salon chair.
SpongeBob experimented with silly facial expressions, continuously changing his mind while the male barber, who looked as though he had stepped out of the 1920s, stood behind him in the mirror with a scowl and held up what must've been a dozen cut out pictures of hairdos above SpongeBob's head, each style more outlandish than the last (the 1950s and '80s wanted their hair gel back!)
Margaret, on the other fin, smiled at the barely noticeable, trimmed, jet-black ends framing her face. SpongeBob hopped off his seat and joined in on admiring her reflection, holding a thumbs-up that he had blown air into. If she was happy, so was he. Eh, he could just buy himself a wig anyway, like he had done so many times before.
Then, it hit him, his mouth gaping open as soon as he looked around at the floor that hadn't been swept yet under all the chairs.
Oh, it was too perfect!
The barber with neon green eyes cleared his throat as he made his way behind the register to receive Mrs. SquarePants' payment. "All right, madam, that'll be ten-ninety– "
"Peek-a-boo, I see you! Bahaha!"
"Oh, honey! Ha, ha, ha!"
It was time for another cartoon sound effect, interrupting the theme music when his face jumped into surprise upon seeing the other strange sponge popping up behind her with a somehow perfectly styled pile of black, brown, and gray hair atop his head. He even managed to make a copy of the barber's Charlie Chaplin-inspired mustache!
The fish-man blew out his twentieth sigh of the day. He knew he should've listened to his mother as a kid. Being a toilet salesman would have attracted a lot less undesirable loonies.
Unless one considered the mountains of poop jokes that came with that job.
Inside "Ice Cream," the shop that served – gasp! A rainbow of frozen cow juice flavors – a mother and son's taste buds swam in the delightful treat of a chocolate-vanilla swirl, selflessly shared in one medium-sized bowl that glistened as much as the caramel blanket that draped over the top of the dessert.
"Mmm!" Margaret relished the bite she took and opened her eyes to something so beyond adorable, the spoon in her hand almost slipped onto the floor.
Nope, she was willing to tend only to one mess right this second, and it made her wonder if he was a three-year-old trapped in a… whatever kind of body he had. It wasn't like he was gifted with Larry the Lobster's physique (and the best way he could mimic it would be to over-hydrate).
Embarrassment flooded SpongeBob's stuffed cheeks again as she smoothed a fresh napkin across his lips in slow motion. He was a big boy who could certainly perform the task himself, but when he was practically intoxicated by that creamy deliciousness, he threw any common sense he had out of a three-story window.
"There we go," she said sweetly, leaning back in the heart-shaped chair.
"Heh, heh, thanks." He swallowed the massive lump of ice cream, shivering with a blue face shortly after. "EEE-HEE! Woo! Brain freeze."
Both sets of eyes grew wide at the sound of tearing. Thank the stars she always carried an emergency sewing kit; he was going to need it after his favorite pair of square pants split apart from the pressure of his now-sagging belly.
"Oh, dear." The bland tone he used, combined with his wide eyes had Margaret throwing her head back laughing. What the hay! He needed to follow through with his own words as a stand-up comedian: "We all gotta learn to laugh at ourselves once in a while." Besides, who didn't gorge themselves on certain occasions?
For the next person to appear, it was every occasion.
"Hey, SpongeBob! Hey, MommyBob!" Patrick stumbled up to them and slammed his hands on the table, a chocolaty mess on his mouth and his tummy jiggling outside of his torn shorts. "Oh," he burped, "good stuff, huh? Oof!" down onto his back the starfish went, creating a loud thud.
"Oh, my! Should we call an ambulance?" Margaret placed her hands against her cheeks.
"Nah, he'll be okay. This happens a lot."
"You're tellin' me! I… am sick… of this guy!" the cashier grunted, out of breath as he hooked his hands underneath Patrick's blubbery arms and attempted to drag him outside. The noises his back made from pulling such a heavy load were alarming, to say the least, but not alarming enough for SpongeBob, Margaret, and the other customers not to finish their cow juice as if nothing had occurred.
Yep, just another typical afternoon in the town named after beachy underwear.
SpongeBob couldn't believe this realization could ever dawn on him, but denial was not a reasonable option (it also wasn't just a river in Fishgypt). This roller-coaster of a day rushed him through a tunnel of emotions he never knew, in his craziest, most vivid dreams existed. It was better, dare he even go there, than jellyfishing, blowing bubbles, or cooking Krabby Patties (speaking of which, Karen had done quite the fabulous job working that grill earlier).
Every moment spent with his mama opened new passageways in their relationship. The first half was memorable enough, but after having to stop killing themselves with laughter so that they weren't kicked out of the local movie theater, playing a game of "I Spy" in the car, visiting Grandma and inhaling more sugar with her famous cookies (it still wore Margaret out but she kept smiling), and buying a bunch of things neither one needed at the shopping mall, both had forgotten that it had all started just about seven hours or so before. They felt like they had been floating with the flowery clouds for days, maybe even weeks.
And now, with one last stop on their list of spontaneous destinations, the green scenery zooming past them, they smiled in blissful silence. How could they describe the joy their hearts were experiencing in the wonderland they had created together? The words could not be found.
Squinting to see beyond the setting sun attempting to blind her through the front window, Margaret momentarily shifted her gaze to the blurry image off to her left. Somebody must've painted those rolling hills; they couldn't be so lucid on their own.
The spring tranquility was surreal, but she knew it was just the beginning.
"Mom?" SpongeBob's voice was soft. "Where are we going? I mean, I know we're in Jellyfish Fields, but… usually, I stop way back there," he pointed his thumb behind him.
Her eyes remained on the road, and somehow, he could see her peaceful smile better than ever. It made his tummy (now back to normal size inside his stitched pants) buzz with the happy feelings that came from catching a rare jellyfish.
"You'll see, soon."
"Okay."
He was kicking his legs like he did as a young'un, and the innocence his voice exuded in that one word he used brought him to the level of a thief. Her heart was now missing.
She continued to stare ahead, her pupils glimmering from more than just the sunlight.
He had a house, a job, even a pet of his own. He knew how to do everything a responsible adult had trained years to know how to do, yet it remained difficult to believe that he had ever really grown up. He was safe being out in the world alone all these years, she knew that for certain. But no matter how old he grew, she would forever value his childish nature like a rare treasure. Which was easier to do when she considered that she'd often been thinking about how he wouldn't ever stop being her little boy.
Neptune, take the wheel before she would lose it right there.
She breathed out slowly as they passed a familiar bunch of tall, thick coral trees. It was terrific to see that they were still standing strong after such a long time.
This was good. She needed something to distract her from her mental return to a large hospital room filled with other friendly faces from both their families, each person's face painted with admiration for the beauty of a young woman holding her sleepy newborn against her chest.
"Why, Harold, he's just… so beautiful, isn't he?"
"The most beautiful thing I've ever seen, dear. Well, besides you, of course."
"Oh, Harold!"
Many voices forever stamped the room with joyful, tear-jerking laughter. The tiny sponge in Margaret's arms wiggled as the strange noises interrupted his sleep.
He opened his mouth with a smile and yawned, stretching his arms and legs as far as he could while being wrapped inside the white blanket. His 'lids fluttered open to look up at her, and a single, warm tear rolled down Margaret's cheek.
Those were her eyes she was staring into.
"My little one."
The soft echo of those words…
So help her, if she didn't get some help with this wheel–
"Whoaaaa, what is this place?"
In instances like this, she hoped he would never break the habit of barging in on peoples' private viewing of their cinematic memories.
"I had a feeling you might not remember it," she caught his gaze for the first time in an hour; it gleamed with childish curiosity.
SpongeBob's eyes drank in the foreign environment, the rows of newly bloomed crape myrtles reflecting off his widening pupils. Strange how that type of tree had a place underwater, but then one could make the same observation about some of the other oddities that existed down there, such as pine trees and even more bizarre, fire.
"Hey, if we're underwater, how can there be a– "
Oh, heavens no! He was not willing to ask the same kind of question if he wanted to continue gawking at the unusual gifts of nature.
"I took you here a couple of times when you were around three or four. I never even knew it existed until you said, 'Mommy, Spongy want to go for a ride!' So, I packed up our little picnic and just went wherever the wind took me. When we found it, you loved it so much… I just had to take you here again."
SpongeBob's bottom 'lids rose halfway above his eyes. He could listen to those touching giggles for hours.
Something about the sentence she remembered caused his throat to tighten. Was it that she cherished the memory so much, she made it a point to memorize what he'd said? Yeah, perhaps so.
Rewinding the tape in his head, he realized there was also something specific about the sentence that squeezed his stomach with unbearable emotion. It had happened with the other flashback at the Krusty Krab, too.
No, wait... he had it! He-
Never mind. He had to put aside dwelling on it for a bit as they drove further into a place that just kept wowing his senses. This apparently "secret" location was unlike anything he'd seen in his whole life. It appeared to be a part of Jellyfish Fields, but miles and miles further into it than he had ever gone himself. It didn't help that he couldn't drive to make that task easier walking. It didn't matter, though. They were there now.
If words could float in mid-water (and sometimes they did!) the winning choice for the spectacle would be "fairyland." A sea of tall grass swayed in the breeze, and upon it were thousands of flowers: red, blue, orange, purple, and white, laid out as if Neptune himself had prepared a giant basket of bouquets and dropped them from above.
Up ahead, the asphalt road morphed into cobblestone, appearing to have been rained upon, and a wooden bridge shaded a stream that flowed with the sparkles of diamonds. SpongeBob then turned to what caught his right eye: a cyanic blue gate, the bars decorated with carefully crafted leaves, twisting vines, and jellyfish.
But it was what the fence surrounded that painted SpongeBob's happy rainbow with one final stroke of color.
"Oh, my gosh…" he pressed his face and hands against the glass of the door. "I feel like I remember this place now! I-it's so… magical."
"Isn't it, though?"
"Yes, Mom… it really is." His voice fell to a whisper.
Was this indeed some sort of magic trick or a dream? It didn't seem like a place so exquisite could exist. Somebody had to have pulled it right out of his or her imagination. SpongeBob was starting to believe that far-fetched idea more and more as he examined the playground that was calling his name.
This must've been fifty steps up from that "gray-ground" he and Patrick had once explored. Although that drain Patrick led them down after breaking and flying off a rickety swing was pretty fun, he had to admit.
This also beat the playgrounds he'd visited as a child and adult, too. Just by looking at it as they parked beside the gate – and there was no parking lot anywhere meant for other visitors, adding to the wild possibility that this hideout was meant exclusively for them – his heart sped up with a rush of excitement. His recollection of playing here was foggy; far out of reach, but he could still see just enough of it.
Margaret's eyes followed him as he raced out of the car, almost squealing. That sight alone transported her back to the first day they came there.
She was a grown woman but being surrounded by the pleasing chirps of scallops, the refreshing scent of nature, and the well-built equipment her son was dying to play on, put her back in her ten-year-old mind and body. The wondrous innocence of youth.
Of course, she wasn't Grandma's age, who was a bit too vain to reveal how old she really was. But she missed how childhood made her feel; it was a colorful, enchanting world where nobody had to worry about the troubles that life brought on.
With SpongeBob, at least she was able to feel that way again for a while. And it was absolutely lovely.
SpongeBob brushed his fingers along the grooves in the gate, captivated mostly by the jellyfish designs. There was that one blue jellyfish called "Friend" or "No-Name" that he had had a devil of a time with back in 2001, but he questioned now if there was a breed of even darker blue jellyfish that had not been revealed to him yet. If so, he might give himself a big challenge by trying to hunt them down at night in pitch blackness. But then he would likely run back home screaming because he was a scaredy-snail when it came to the dark.
"Gosh, this looks so funnnn!" SpongeBob bit his lip and spun around like a kid desperate to ride his new birthday bike.
The rocking seahorses, the teeter-totter, the wide, twisting slides; a swing set that had chains and bars that looked strong enough to hold even Patrick up (a miracle). He couldn't decide what to have the time of his life doing first, and the encouraging push to the shoulder made the enthusiastic scream inside him want to burst through his vocal cords.
"Well, go on, dear! Have your fun!" she grinned.
"Okay!"
She didn't really think she'd have to sit down on a bench all bored and continue to knit the second giant project she somehow fit into her tiny purse, did she?
Not anymore, she didn't.
A mixture of laughter and a pleasantly surprised yelp disrupted the quietude, SpongeBob pulling her behind him as he ran towards the extra-long, purple slide. This time, his squeal couldn't be contained.
But when he was through gripping each pole of the ladder as if he couldn't make it to the top quickly enough, the exciting sounds coming out of his mouth trailed off into the air like a boat releasing its final puff of gas.
Gee, this was quite a drop.
He peered down at the squishy floor designed to protect him if he fell at the bottom, drops of sweat beginning to rain from his brow. Oh, brother! How could he possibly get injured with the combination of the ground and his own spongy body?
Now that he thought about it, he couldn't get the countless times he'd been chopped, sliced, and squashed throughout his life out of his head. Oh, yeah, and the days he was used as a jump rope by his cousin, Blackjack.
Well, he was still alive after those times, was he not? Or had he been dead all these years and just never noticed?
Margaret flashed a knowing smile, already hatching an idea as she watched his statue-like stance from the bottom of the ladder. She had a feeling he wasn't going to need her to proudly observe his swift and fearless journey down the slide, just like the old days. That was because he had never successfully started that journey in the first place. He always needed a push. Sometimes even a security hug.
Two hugs in one day? "Well, now it is a party!" she shook her head at more of the words she'd uttered during his birthday celebration.
She gripped the ladder as he did the same to the poles on either side of him. She might as well help. There was no reason to worry about embarrassment from other kids or their parents; therefore, there was also no worry of hearing a "Mommm!" like she did earlier.
Okay, Little Bobby, he thought as he sat down shakily, his teeth chattering.
Was that a cold breeze? Come on, weather! It was almost summer!
His body was contradicting itself left and right: palms clammier than an angry clam, an icy sweat possessing his nerves, and a rain cloud of nausea creating a flash flood inside his stomach. Yet he also felt… hunger pains? After that large Krabby meal and frozen cow juice?
Don't be such a weenie baby! It's only a slide. A-a big, scary slide… REALLY BIG!
"AHHHH– oh… Mom?"
His shoulders relaxed and his pounding heart found its rest thanks to the kindness of a pair of arms wrapping around him from behind.
"Are you okay, dear?"
"Um, y-yeah, I… I am now."
They smiled. That was all that needed to be added to the situation for the next few seconds or so. It was strong enough to label these past hours the "best day ever."
Oh, the unrivaled sweetness of words spoken without speaking. Everything quiet, every delicate moment being cherished as they searched each other's eyes.
He was four years old again; she was still growing as a mother who made mistakes. But that was all right, because her baby was okay.
"You ready?"
"Oh, you betcha. Let's DO IT! WOO!"
And down they went as she pressed herself against him to shove off.
Wow, what a rush! The wind tickling their flesh, the fantastical feeling of accomplishment, the swarm of giggles that seemed to fly for eternity along with the passing jellyfish – it couldn't get any better or more memorable than this.
At least, not yet.
His eyes shut tightly and his stomach taking flight, SpongeBob got lost on another fluffy cloud of joy, sweeping his senses across the bright, ocean sky (perhaps the spirit of Drizzle, the rain cloud he kept as a pet, was with him somehow).
He had an itch to look around before the ride was over, but he didn't want to chance becoming scared again. Even if he did, though, there was nothing to be frightened of. She was there.
The things that scared him as a child never had a chance to linger; not monsters under the bed or in the closet, not the thought of Santa Claus potentially being a chubby criminal who came down peoples' chimneys just to steal their cookies, not Patrick's bellybutton, and certainly not life in general, so long as his daddy was there to give him guidance, and the treasure of a woman behind him continued to hold him in her arms.
So, why not, then?
He slowly opened his eyes to the sight of their destination. Hallelujah!
...But this meant she had to let go now. He almost frowned at the idea.
No worries. He would savor her embrace for however long it lasted. It was wiser to focus on the positive (advice that people like Squidward needed to listen to, instead of his own "woe is me" voice).
"We…" his pupils once again grew large. "W-we did it… I can't believe we actually did it, Mom! Wee-hee!"
Margaret was like every parent who had a heart big enough to swim in: She felt her child's glee as if it was her own. It was the same story with his sadness, anger, frustration, or any other emotion out there (and there were a lot).
Her face was hurting from smiling now, and she was glad to put the blame on him. His enthusiasm was utterly adorable to witness, fidgeting in her lap like a baby or toddler who saw a colorful object on TV and wanted to touch it so badly that he/she would squeak.
"Yes! See? There was nothing to be afraid of."
"Yeah, I guess there really wasn't. Um," he gazed at his hands, his heart speeding back up and knocking on the inside of his ears. "Thank you for helping me out, Mom. N-not just with the slide, but… with, y'know, everything."
"Aww!" would be the reaction if they were acting out a scene in front of a live, studio audience, what with him showing off his "goofiest of the goofy" smile.
As this day kept progressing, all he did was give her more reasons to be forever thankful that she had become a mother. Taking care of children was extremely hard work; again, like a job. No doubts there. Some parents even questioned whether having kids was the right choice for them after a while, and rightfully so. But for Margaret, her life wouldn't have been this extraordinary without her little one.
Thinking more deeply about it, he would always be little thanks to his genetics.
"Of course, baby. Mommy loves you."
Neither questioned why they were still parked on the slide, but now their minds were wiped clean of anything else, too – anything that didn't have to do with the overwhelmingly warm blanket of tenderness being shared through their faces.
Her arms took advantage of her mind, wrapping further around him in response to his shaky breath. Though he wasn't hurt, that was the instinctual mama sea bear coming out to play. The friendly kind that liked having their tummies tickled.
Both had been on the verge of crying many times today but never had she seen his eyes this glossy, like he had dumped a whole bottle of eye drops into them, staring into her soul with an innocent gleam of gratitude. His open mouth quivered, desperate to speak, but nothing came out. Her words had rolled off her tongue so… naturally. Of course, they did. How could they not when she had said it countless times to the point of it being another language?
It didn't matter that he wasn't four years old anymore, nor did it matter that if people like Squidward or any of the other guys in town were there, they would make fun of him like they did when Grandma left a kissy mark on his forehead.
What truly held this moment together, was that she meant it. She would always mean it, whether he was thirty, fifty, or even when she would one day leave this life. She'd never stop.
But he needed to stop looking at her this way if he didn't want to stain his tie with mucus. Then again, no woman who wore makeup went without tissues or wipes to smooth out any crooked or messy lines, right?
"U-um," he sniffled, turning away to stare ahead. "D-do ya think we could do that again, Mom?"
"Sure. We could go as many times as you like."
"Yayyyy!– Ooh!"
Oops. Perhaps she should have thought more carefully before loosening her grip and letting him throw his arms up like that. His face was planted in the dirt now, but at least there were no germs from the bottoms of other children's shoes to infect him with a case of the suds (or any other deadly illness those little brats carried).
"One hour late– AH! Oh, my goodness! Can somebody please get this creature away from the screen?! That is too close. Too close–Ah! AHHH!" the French narrator's teenage girl-pitched scream caused the jellybee to zig-zag across the screen more quickly, the rays of the setting sun flashing between its movements.
One would think it logical that, as a man protected under a clunky diving suit inside a huge submarine, he would be used to and unafraid of the living things of the deep blue. But despite witnessing events such as the day Neptune's moon transformed creatures like Squidward and Pearl into their massive, primitive selves, Frenchy held the same belief as many other people: flying insects were the real monsters in this world.
Jellyfish Fields already felt like SpongeBob's "home away from home from home" – the Krusty Krab was higher on the list, not only because it offered him all kinds of homely comfort and excitement from its nostalgic stench alone, but it also literally was his second home at one point. Taking it upon himself to move right on in there had quickly proven to be a not-so-fabulous idea for various reasons, but one he hadn't shared was the fact that letting the customers clean their filthy mouths with his underwear made it appear as though he never wiped and couldn't control his bladder with those permanent grease and mustard stains).
But today… it was a bit uncertain. Could the home of his jelly-producing friends be his most favorite, cherished spot now? Sure, he wouldn't really chance living there again after becoming Nature Pants and itching for days from those pesky sea urchins in the past, but rediscovering this one-of-a-kind hideout with the precious lady sitting beside him on the grassy hill had definitely grabbed hold of his heart's hand and was tugging it in the aforementioned direction.
A quiet sigh escaped him as he smiled down at his feet dangling over the edge of the hill, his cheeks warm from the sun and infected with the captivating pinkness of the flowers across the fields.
Margaret peeled her intense gaze away from the horizon and locked it on his side view. It was refreshing to hear his voice after twenty minutes of pure silence. A good break had been needed, however, after all that laughing and falling off the teeter-totter, more daring slide rides and dirt facials, freaking the barnacles out while running from angry sea bees, and…
…That swing set. The first piece of equipment he had dragged her with his tiny hand to push him on, flooding her spirit with his joyous, innocent giggles.
"Bahaha! Again, Mommy! Go again! I wanna go higher!"
Her stomach clenched tightly, eyes glazing over as she observed, inside her mind's eye, the priceless image of him morphing from a little guy to a slightly bigger little guy, flying back and forth in the wind.
"Bahaha! WEEE! Look, Mom! No hands! OW! Okay, maybe that wasn't such a good idea."
Before exploding into more laughter and having to lift him off the ground, she was slipping into a fantasy – much like now – and saving every second he became a child again for when this day was completely finished and she wouldn't see him for however long. But darn it, why?! Why did it have to be this way?
Simple: it didn't. After today, it was clearer than ever that nothing stood in her path of coming to visit him at his job (so long as he was on his five-second break or whatever stingy amount of time Krabs let him have to himself). Heck, she could even swing by the pineapple and watch Gary beat him at every board game known to fish kind. And perhaps he would like to visit in her neck of the kelp woods here and there, also.
It was both a shame and a blessing to discover the kind of happiness she had forgotten about with her baby all these years, simply because she had never made the time or was hesitant due to his busy schedule at his job. Sometimes, there were areas of life that were pushed inside a closet and not found again until a significant amount of time had passed, and a person's soul finally began to unravel the mystery of its lonely state.
This young man's heart was a treasure chest of gold. Some children hardly ever bothered to give a darn about the folks who raised them if they became influenced by the wrong people. Society could be a wasteland of bitterness and hatred, but every now and again was a gem floating along in the murky waters and glittering in the sunlight, helping to suck the ocean clean of such toxicity, and that was what he tried to do, without even trying at all.
SpongeBob tingled from the feathery breeze blowing against his face as he lifted his head to stare past the sun. Was he drowning in the giant waves of his imagination again, or could he actually see the sparkles forming in his own eyes from the feeling of her gentle hand on his shoulder?
Four blue eyes met at the highest peak of affection conceivable. Immediately, they knew their minds had been wandering around the same place.
"Oh, son…"
SpongeBob's pupils glistened with shiny pools of emotion at her tender tone of voice. "Did… did you have a good day today, Mom?"
The sincerity his words and whole body exuded created a familiar aching in her arms; the ache one either suffered through when missing someone, or absolutely wanted to hold onto, so they could hold the one they loved just for the heck of it, because they adored them.
"Sweetheart, you have done so much more than give me a good day. This has been the most… m-most wonderful…"
Wow, he sensed that things had grown quite heavy, but he didn't imagine needing to reach into his back pocket swiftly enough to prevent a mother's tears from ruining her mascara.
Of course, him being the town crybaby, he knew it wouldn't be too long before the dam inside his brain would crack and break. Thank Neptune his eyelashes were naturally dark enough not to need any help from cosmetics.
"H-hey, um, before ya finish, I-I've been meaning to give you a little something all day. Boy, do I hate waiting sometimes, heh. But I just figured, y'know," he rubbed the back of his head with one hand while placing a small, blue box into her lap with the other, "n-now would be the best time to–"
His throat surprised him with a swallow as she breathed out shakily, gently pulling out the brown, beaded chain with a wooden heart hanging at the bottom of it. A quick close-up revealed the time and effort put into carving out the edges, as well as the tiny, delicately etched image of him smiling and holding his hands in the shape of another heart over his chest.
"Oh, SpongeBob! Why, this is the most adorable thing I think I've ever seen!"
"Aww, really? Heehee, thanks. Gary actually helped me figure out the design and everything. He said, 'Meow, meow, mowww!" which basically translates as: 'Your heart's as big as your face, screwball! Just do something with that!' Bahahahaha!"
"Ha, ha, ha! Well, be sure to tell him I said 'thank you' for–"
Was this the right time to turn that necklace over?
To paint the finishing strokes on the beautiful picture they'd been working on together? Yes. To maintain the integrity of her makeup? Eh, not so much.
But the time couldn't have been any more perfect, for lack of a less cliché phrase, to make her most beloved wish come true.
A wave of tears rose in her bottom 'lids, her lips gaping open and quivering as much as her hands at what was etched into the pendant.
Mommy.
The single word that she knew would be her heart's most cherished gift, caused it to stop and then start as if it had been replaced by one sent from the great beyond above.
Ah, forget it. She was now in the heavenly gates of that unimaginably exquisite, faraway place. No more pain from the past life, no more loneliness, no more ugly disturbances from the world she used to be in. Just her and the angel beside her. The angel whom she and darling Harold had worked together in pure, honest love to create.
Whew, Neptune! Here come the streaks.
"SpongeBob, t-this is–"
"I… I know. You don't have to say it. I just wanted to remind you that I… I-I-I–"
The little sponge could see it in her endlessly grateful expression: he was about to be rained upon by the largest, most inspirational thunderstorm of love he'd ever witnessed after he sprinkled her with his own. He was aware that even though he could never completely understand the full length of emotional craziness a mother had to go through, his appreciation for how big reward a simple, sentimental utterance was for this lady would forever grow. It was as good as a "thank you" for the sacrifices she'd made for him, and knowing that that was the greatest present he might've ever given to anybody, was like a wrecking ball to that dam in his head.
"I-I love you so, so much," warm, heavy tears streamed down his cheeks as he blinked, sniffling and sucking in sharp breaths. "I love you more than I could e-ever e-even express through words. You and Dad have given me such an amazing, beautiful life, a-and I'm sorry we don't see each other all that often. But I promise you, from now on, I will come and see you as much as I can – every day, if possible. P-Patrick means the ocean to me, but I'll never forget that you were my very first true friend. I'll always feel that way, Mommy… a-always."
Wee-woo! Wee-woo! Someone send the giant tissue police!
"Oh, honey. You are wonderful. Truly wonderful. I couldn't ask for a more… b-beautiful son. You've made your father and me so, so very proud. Oh, dear…" she couldn't help herself; his little forehead was calling to her lips.
SpongeBob's eyes instantly shut as she held his shoulders, bracing for the most powerful yet softest, kindest reminder of how dearly he was loved. It was a gesture that needed no words following it to express its care, and the joyous song being sung throughout his body was proof of that.
Margaret pulled back, giggling at the lipstick mark above his eyes. He would most likely have trouble removing that later, so she pulled a makeup wipe from her purse and cleaned away, leaving SpongeBob puzzled at first. Until he remembered that, again, his grandma had this habit. She just never paid enough attention to the consequences his skin had to deal with (either that or her old eyes failed her).
She then wiped underneath her eyes and near the corners of her grinning mouth, before drying the glistening droplets off her son's face with her thumbs. As their skin made contact, he still continued to keep one hand on top of the other over his heart. Neptune couldn't have blessed him with a brighter gleam of cuteness.
"Mommy loves you too, very, very much. Thank you. And don't apologize, son. Seeing each other requires teamwork."
"Or 'te-am work,' as Plankton calls it."
A little tearful laughter was the perfect melody to soothe passing jellyfish. Oh, and make a French diver cry.
"Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho! My goodness, what a beautiful–" Frenchy blew his runny nose (somehow) through his diving suit, "moment. I should call my mother after this episode is finished. That is, if she is not drowning in the frozen yogurt shop's toilet again." He shook his head, resting it on his hand. "Perhaps Jenkins was onto something."
"Yes, and we can work on it together for as long as we need to. Perhaps when your father gets back from his trip, we could start planning another family vacation."
"Ooh, yeah! That sounds like a GREAT idea! Oh, and maybe this time, Patrick won't launch us into outer space again while playing hide-and-seek. He's not very good at it, in case you haven't noticed," he whispered through the side of his mouth with a smug smile, earning a heartwarming chuckle out of her.
The next few moments rightfully slid into the palms of peaceful quietude, both unable to rid themselves of their smiles as SpongeBob took up the great honor of dressing her neck with the handmade jewelry. The pendant rested perfectly on her heart, almost like the piece of a puzzle, long-awaited to be completed.
"Of course, baby, Mommy loves you."
"You were my very first true friend."
With eyes sparkling once more, and visible gratitude being shared over the words that had been spoken as genuinely as could be, the two settled into the final and most meaningful embrace of the day. Their arms were tight as soon as they wrapped around one another, burying one soft, squishy head into the shoulder of the other. This could easily go on the rest of the night, but the station wagon was quite a distance away, and darkness would soon fall over the fields like a curtain, so for the last couple of minutes, they thought it best to sit in a less "permanent" position, keeping one arm around each other and resting their heads together.
SpongeBob's mouth curved into the shape of a horseshoe, relishing the warmth of her lips pressing on the top of his head. Well, at least the red kissy mark wouldn't be front and center this time.
"Happy Mother's Day, Mommy." He hugged his knees into his chest like a daydreaming child.
"Thank you, baby."
As the scene gradually zoomed further out to display the entirety of the radiant picture, a feeling of soul-strengthening positivity was stamped upon the unforgettable image, left to forever remain in the symbolic hall of memories in Bikini Bottom.
"Ahh, there you have it, folks. The night falls down, and the love goes up. Heh, I am not sure where that just came from, but I like it. Oh, no…"
Frenchy grew stiff in his seat at the approaching sound of buzzing.
"Please, please, not again– AHHH! EHHH!" he flew backward in his chair in the most hilarious, chaotic manner possible, arms flailing and legs sticking up in the air.
With zero thought to make him hesitate, Frenchy reached for his phone and dialed a number he rarely called (since Sandy Cheeks was normally much friendlier than the person who was about to answer).
"Hello? Make it quick, I'm kinda busy."
"Ah, yes, Plankton! Just the copepod I need. This is Frenchy speaking. You see, I was wondering if it would be possible to lend me that large hand you have sitting on the roof of your restaurant."
Plankton furrowed his brow as he lay smashed on the Krusty Krab floor, again. "Whaaaat?! What could ya possibly need that for, French?"
"I am afraid the giant flyswatters are out of stock online."
"Let me guess…" Plankton sighed, then spoke with Frenchy in unison.
"Jellybees."
Frenchy, still on his back, stared into the camera in defeat. "Well, that is all, folks. I hope."
"…Buzz."
"AH!"
A/N: Haha, a bit of a strange ending, I know XD welp, I realize I could've gone just a little more in-depth about SpongeBob's childhood, but I just kept following where my brain and fingers took me with this one. Not perfect, but then again, I feel like no story ever is (at least, not mine), so *shrug* lol. Also, I know that SpongeBob and Patrick have been best friends all their lives, but I just for some reason felt the need to add that "true friend" bit between Sponge and Margaret. Anyways, thanks for reading and see you soon. :)