The crying of a baby, the mad dashing around the kitchen of the father, the chaos of a zoo. It was hectic in the Pedersen household, the kitchen amess as the man of the house struggled to keep everything under control. Eiríkur continued his hungry wailing, chubby face bunched up at his cheeks as his tummy grumbled and groaned. Jesus, it was difficult taking care of a baby, especially since he had no wife to be able to nurture the baby. He'd had to assign Eiríkur to start drinking formula milk, though he knew the baby hardly liked it. He had to live with it, and he knew he couldn't just give him regular old cow's milk. He needed more nutrients that were given in breastmilk.
Sighing, Mathias brushed hair out of his face, and screwed the lid of the bottle tightly shut, his eyes looking rather tired. It'd been about a month since his wife had passed, and with him on coffee almost 24/7, the exhaustion was getting to him, especially when he had a child to take care of. He promised his family he'd take care of it though, but it was nice to see his family taking the time to come over and take care of the Icelander whilst Mathias could finally take a well-deserved nap.
Grinning tiredly to the crying boy, Mathias lifted him out of his high chair, and held the small baby in his arms, his free hand guiding the bottle to Eiríkur's lips. The boy's cries died down to distressed whimpers as his hunger pains roved around his stomach, but they were soon quelled as the sucker of the bottle reached the Icelander's lips, and he sucked eagerly on the teat, small hands reaching out and holding onto the bottle. His magenta eyes glanced up to the Dane, watching him curiously as the baby hungrily sucked on the bottle. With delight, Mathias chuckled, bright blue eyes glistening with fondness for the child in his arms. Mathias let out a yawn, before taking the bottle away, and hoisting the small child against his shoulder, bouncing Eiríkur gently and patting his back.
The Icelander hiccupped a few times, making a few noises to accommodate the bouncing, and giggled a little, before the burp was heard. Though it didn't seem to come alone as a rather sticky substance fell down Mathias' back, dripping off his shoulder. Cringing, the Dane let out a sigh, before setting Eiríkur back into his high chair, and advanced to their room for a change of shirt. He had no problem with a baby throwing up on his favourite shirt. Nope, no problem at all. It just couldn't be helped, he was just a baby, no harm done. Besides, it would come out anyway.
After throwing on a random shirt, Mathias returned to his baby to feed him the rest of the bottle, hoping to put Eiríkur down for a nap for about an hour. Jesus Christ, did he need one himself right about now. Obediently, the Icelandic-Danish baby drank up his meal for the morning, and Mathias just hoped that it was enough after he had decided to wake the Dane up crying for food at almost five in the morning. Luckily for him, it seemed so, and he could see his baby looking rather satisfied with the milk. For once.
"Maybe you're just in a good mood." He laughed softly, nuzzling Eiríkur's face, relishing in the giggles and griping, tiny hands that he aroused from the child. Hell, it was horrifically difficult to take care of a baby. But when you can see the appreciation and admiration that the child's eyes held for you, and when you loved what you held so much, then you were willing to give up sleep for a month just to see that.