Baby Mine
By: Ophelia Le Noir
Disclaimer: I do not own the song "Baby Mine." It belongs to Disney and it from the movie "Dumbo." I also do not own Crutchy. He is property of Disney as well, along with all the other Newsies. You may ask why I chose Crutchy for this one. Well, I noticed there were never any fictions written about him and I thought it was high time for one. Enjoy the story!
*Baby mine don't you cry
Baby mine dry your eyes*
Marla watched as her son hobbled in from out side. He wouldn't look up at her as he slowly made his way into the apartment, his crutch thumping against the floor as he walked. When she finally saw his face, it was streaked with tears. "What happened, Timothy?" She asked him. "Nothin', Mama," He replied looking away.
*Rest your head close to my heart Never to part, Baby of mine*
She gathered her son into her lap and sat in her rocking chair. The boy was only five and she could still hold him. He slumped against her, more tears sliding down his face. "It's, all right, sweetheart, Mommy's here to take care of you," Marla whispered to her son. She gently stroked his hair in order to comfort him. His sobs were becoming less frequent now. "They made fun of me, Mama," He said, choking on the words.
*Little one when you play Don't you mind what they say Let those eyes sparkle and shine Never a tear Baby of mine*
"Who made fun of you, Timothy?" She asked softly. "The other boys. I asked if I could play with 'em and they said they wouldn't play with a gimp. Then they called me 'Crutchy'." Marla's face hardened. She would have to have a talk with the other boys' mothers. No child, especially one as young as her son, especially her son, should have to live through such ridicule. But now she had to deal with the situation at hand. It would have started sooner or later, though. She couldn't shelter her son forever. Someday, he would have friends who would accept him.
* If they knew sweet little you They'd end up loving you too All those same people who scold you What they'd give just for the right to hold you*
"Don't worry, my little darling, " Marla assured her son, kissing the top of his head, "Those boys may pick on you now, but someday, they will see what a wonderful person you really are. You're my little baby." "Awww, Mama! Don't call me a baby!" He would be ok. He always had been. The doctors had told Marla and her husband that the boy would never walk, but here he was, able to stand and walk, even if it was with a crutch. He would be all right. Here he was, already cheerful again.
He slide off his mother's lap and picked up his crutch. He made his way over to the table. Lunchtime. Marla smiled softly. Her little son was so chipper and so brave. Bravery is not measured by daring deeds, but by the ability to overcome the worst situations.
*From your head down to your toes You're so sweet goodness knows you're so precious to me sweet as can be Baby of mine*
She took a bowl from the cabinet and poured him some of the soup she had been making when he came in. She was her little baby. He always would be. Even when he was grown up, he would still be her baby. He smiled up at her as he got his soup and said his prayer:
"Dear God, thank you for all the gifts you have bestowed upon me and
Thank you for the food I am about to eat. Please help me to always be
good-"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"And please bless my friends and my mother. Amen" A now teenage
Timothy finished.
"Hey, Crutchy," Race began, "Why do you always say that same prayer
before you eat?"
The boys were sitting at the Newsboys' Lodging house about to eat a
dinner of hot mush.
"I've always said it. My mom taught me to say it," Crutchy replied.
For once Race was solemn. He understood the reverence of a lost parent, as did most of the other boys there. All of them were either orphans or runaways. Crutchy's mom had died a few years ago of tuberculosis. Crutchy still prayed for He had been close to his mother.
Race took another look at Crutchy. Was that a tear in his eye? Surly not. Race went back to his hot mush, leaving Crutchy to his thoughts.
*All of those people who scold you What they'd give just for the right to hold you*
Crutchy remembered a time when he would have been hurt by his name. Now it was an endearment. The boys around him now were not the boys who had ridiculed him as a child. When he came to the lodging house, he had been accepted quickly. He had many brothers who would stand up for him in a fight, just because he was Crutchy. Their brother and friend. He smiled slightly. His Mama had been right. Someday he would have friends who loved him and accepted him. He only wished he hadn't had to loose her first.
*From your head down to your toes You're not much goodness knows But you're so precious to me Sweet as can be Baby of mine
Baby of mine*
The End
By: Ophelia Le Noir
Disclaimer: I do not own the song "Baby Mine." It belongs to Disney and it from the movie "Dumbo." I also do not own Crutchy. He is property of Disney as well, along with all the other Newsies. You may ask why I chose Crutchy for this one. Well, I noticed there were never any fictions written about him and I thought it was high time for one. Enjoy the story!
*Baby mine don't you cry
Baby mine dry your eyes*
Marla watched as her son hobbled in from out side. He wouldn't look up at her as he slowly made his way into the apartment, his crutch thumping against the floor as he walked. When she finally saw his face, it was streaked with tears. "What happened, Timothy?" She asked him. "Nothin', Mama," He replied looking away.
*Rest your head close to my heart Never to part, Baby of mine*
She gathered her son into her lap and sat in her rocking chair. The boy was only five and she could still hold him. He slumped against her, more tears sliding down his face. "It's, all right, sweetheart, Mommy's here to take care of you," Marla whispered to her son. She gently stroked his hair in order to comfort him. His sobs were becoming less frequent now. "They made fun of me, Mama," He said, choking on the words.
*Little one when you play Don't you mind what they say Let those eyes sparkle and shine Never a tear Baby of mine*
"Who made fun of you, Timothy?" She asked softly. "The other boys. I asked if I could play with 'em and they said they wouldn't play with a gimp. Then they called me 'Crutchy'." Marla's face hardened. She would have to have a talk with the other boys' mothers. No child, especially one as young as her son, especially her son, should have to live through such ridicule. But now she had to deal with the situation at hand. It would have started sooner or later, though. She couldn't shelter her son forever. Someday, he would have friends who would accept him.
* If they knew sweet little you They'd end up loving you too All those same people who scold you What they'd give just for the right to hold you*
"Don't worry, my little darling, " Marla assured her son, kissing the top of his head, "Those boys may pick on you now, but someday, they will see what a wonderful person you really are. You're my little baby." "Awww, Mama! Don't call me a baby!" He would be ok. He always had been. The doctors had told Marla and her husband that the boy would never walk, but here he was, able to stand and walk, even if it was with a crutch. He would be all right. Here he was, already cheerful again.
He slide off his mother's lap and picked up his crutch. He made his way over to the table. Lunchtime. Marla smiled softly. Her little son was so chipper and so brave. Bravery is not measured by daring deeds, but by the ability to overcome the worst situations.
*From your head down to your toes You're so sweet goodness knows you're so precious to me sweet as can be Baby of mine*
She took a bowl from the cabinet and poured him some of the soup she had been making when he came in. She was her little baby. He always would be. Even when he was grown up, he would still be her baby. He smiled up at her as he got his soup and said his prayer:
"Dear God, thank you for all the gifts you have bestowed upon me and
Thank you for the food I am about to eat. Please help me to always be
good-"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"And please bless my friends and my mother. Amen" A now teenage
Timothy finished.
"Hey, Crutchy," Race began, "Why do you always say that same prayer
before you eat?"
The boys were sitting at the Newsboys' Lodging house about to eat a
dinner of hot mush.
"I've always said it. My mom taught me to say it," Crutchy replied.
For once Race was solemn. He understood the reverence of a lost parent, as did most of the other boys there. All of them were either orphans or runaways. Crutchy's mom had died a few years ago of tuberculosis. Crutchy still prayed for He had been close to his mother.
Race took another look at Crutchy. Was that a tear in his eye? Surly not. Race went back to his hot mush, leaving Crutchy to his thoughts.
*All of those people who scold you What they'd give just for the right to hold you*
Crutchy remembered a time when he would have been hurt by his name. Now it was an endearment. The boys around him now were not the boys who had ridiculed him as a child. When he came to the lodging house, he had been accepted quickly. He had many brothers who would stand up for him in a fight, just because he was Crutchy. Their brother and friend. He smiled slightly. His Mama had been right. Someday he would have friends who loved him and accepted him. He only wished he hadn't had to loose her first.
*From your head down to your toes You're not much goodness knows But you're so precious to me Sweet as can be Baby of mine
Baby of mine*
The End