Speed bonny boat like a bird on the wing,
"Onward!" the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.
"He disne do much, does he?" A ruddy-cheeked three year-old poked at the tiny form asleep in the cradle while their mother watched on. The question sparked a laugh from the woman. She rested her hand on the little girl's head and smiled fondly at her children.
"Nae yet, Kathy," she said, "but he'll be more fun when he's bigger."
Kathy thought about this for a minute, before poking the baby again. "Wanne play nou, though!" A few more pokes followed her exclamation, until her mother pulled her back. However, the damage had been done, and the once sleeping child was now awake, and none too pleased about it.
Their mother did her best to not look too annoyed at her elder child for waking the baby, even though it had only been a few minutes since she'd settled him in for the night. Instead, she carefully lifted her son and carried him over to the rocking chair, motioning for Kathy to follow. "Le's try a game called 'Sendin' Mont t'Sleep'. Wha ye do is, settle up here next t'me," and here she patted the seat of the chair, "an help me remember th'words t'this song. Can ye do tha, love?"
Kathy nodded enthusiastically as she clambered up, sitting half on her mother's lap. "Aye, Mumma! Wha song?"
The woman laughed. "Quietly, nou..." Then she began to sing, occasionally pausing as though she had forgotten, and picking back up after Kathy had sung a bit on her own.
Loud the wind howls, loud the waves roar,
Thunderclaps rend the air.
Baffled our foes stand on the shore,
Follow they will not dare.
Her son settled next to her on the couch, bouncing a bit, eyes bright and eager. "Pleeeaaaase can I talk t'the baby? Jus' fe five minutes, promise." If she didn't know much better by now, having already endured two months of the lad's enthusiasm, she would have acquiesced. However, she knew well enough that five minutes would turn into 'jus' another minute, Mum' and that next minute would become 'oh one more, please?' until it was well past her son's bed time.
"No, Monty. Ye need yer rest fe school t'morrow." She ruffled her son's short blond hair affectionately, and did her best to ignore the way his mouth turned down at the corners. "Besides, wha' else will ye tell th'bairn? Ye've already said everythin' about yer day."
Monty had to sit back and think for a moment about this. "I cuid... um... I cuid talk about... eh... ...hm... I dinne ken. Oh! I cuid teach th'baby maths!" Here his grin grew wide again.
Well, that had backfired. Perhaps a different approach. "How about we teach th'baby a song?" She silently prayed that this idea would work in getting him to go to bed.
Thankfully, it appeared God was on her side, as her son nodded rapidly, before settling in to snuggle against the considerable swell of her stomach. She sighed, and after feeling a moment of pity for whomever the poor woman would be who would marry Montgomery and have his children, began to sing.
Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep
Ocean's a royal bed
Rocked by the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head
If she had thought her son's fondness for the baby would end after little Coraline was born, she would have been sadly mistaken. As it was, she had rather anticipated that whatever it was that had captured Montgomery's attention would last for far longer than just her pregnancy, and had taken the appropriate steps to ensure her young son's boundless enthusiasm would not in any way endanger Coraline... or her own sanity.
The lessons seemed to have stuck, and it was perhaps the stillest she had ever seen her boy. She watched him like a hawk whenever he held his little sister, but then, she watched almost everyone who came near her youngest just as carefully. Monty was better by far than most adults, although he did have the added incentive that his time spent with Coraline would be curtailed if he was not careful.
She was grateful for the help. Though he really couldn't do much other than hold the baby and occasionally feed her if a bottle was prepared, it was still nice having someone to just rock Coraline for a while. It gave their mother time to make dinner, or clean a little, or even just go to the toilet without interruption.
For now, though, she was content to stand in the doorway, out of sight, listening to Monty's quavering, uncertain soprano as he sat, dwarfed, in her rocking chair, singing Coraline to sleep.
Speed bonny boat like a bird on the wing,
"Onward!" the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.
"Onward!" the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.
"He disne do much, does he?" A ruddy-cheeked three year-old poked at the tiny form asleep in the cradle while their mother watched on. The question sparked a laugh from the woman. She rested her hand on the little girl's head and smiled fondly at her children.
"Nae yet, Kathy," she said, "but he'll be more fun when he's bigger."
Kathy thought about this for a minute, before poking the baby again. "Wanne play nou, though!" A few more pokes followed her exclamation, until her mother pulled her back. However, the damage had been done, and the once sleeping child was now awake, and none too pleased about it.
Their mother did her best to not look too annoyed at her elder child for waking the baby, even though it had only been a few minutes since she'd settled him in for the night. Instead, she carefully lifted her son and carried him over to the rocking chair, motioning for Kathy to follow. "Le's try a game called 'Sendin' Mont t'Sleep'. Wha ye do is, settle up here next t'me," and here she patted the seat of the chair, "an help me remember th'words t'this song. Can ye do tha, love?"
Kathy nodded enthusiastically as she clambered up, sitting half on her mother's lap. "Aye, Mumma! Wha song?"
The woman laughed. "Quietly, nou..." Then she began to sing, occasionally pausing as though she had forgotten, and picking back up after Kathy had sung a bit on her own.
Loud the wind howls, loud the waves roar,
Thunderclaps rend the air.
Baffled our foes stand on the shore,
Follow they will not dare.
Her son settled next to her on the couch, bouncing a bit, eyes bright and eager. "Pleeeaaaase can I talk t'the baby? Jus' fe five minutes, promise." If she didn't know much better by now, having already endured two months of the lad's enthusiasm, she would have acquiesced. However, she knew well enough that five minutes would turn into 'jus' another minute, Mum' and that next minute would become 'oh one more, please?' until it was well past her son's bed time.
"No, Monty. Ye need yer rest fe school t'morrow." She ruffled her son's short blond hair affectionately, and did her best to ignore the way his mouth turned down at the corners. "Besides, wha' else will ye tell th'bairn? Ye've already said everythin' about yer day."
Monty had to sit back and think for a moment about this. "I cuid... um... I cuid talk about... eh... ...hm... I dinne ken. Oh! I cuid teach th'baby maths!" Here his grin grew wide again.
Well, that had backfired. Perhaps a different approach. "How about we teach th'baby a song?" She silently prayed that this idea would work in getting him to go to bed.
Thankfully, it appeared God was on her side, as her son nodded rapidly, before settling in to snuggle against the considerable swell of her stomach. She sighed, and after feeling a moment of pity for whomever the poor woman would be who would marry Montgomery and have his children, began to sing.
Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep
Ocean's a royal bed
Rocked by the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head
If she had thought her son's fondness for the baby would end after little Coraline was born, she would have been sadly mistaken. As it was, she had rather anticipated that whatever it was that had captured Montgomery's attention would last for far longer than just her pregnancy, and had taken the appropriate steps to ensure her young son's boundless enthusiasm would not in any way endanger Coraline... or her own sanity.
The lessons seemed to have stuck, and it was perhaps the stillest she had ever seen her boy. She watched him like a hawk whenever he held his little sister, but then, she watched almost everyone who came near her youngest just as carefully. Monty was better by far than most adults, although he did have the added incentive that his time spent with Coraline would be curtailed if he was not careful.
She was grateful for the help. Though he really couldn't do much other than hold the baby and occasionally feed her if a bottle was prepared, it was still nice having someone to just rock Coraline for a while. It gave their mother time to make dinner, or clean a little, or even just go to the toilet without interruption.
For now, though, she was content to stand in the doorway, out of sight, listening to Monty's quavering, uncertain soprano as he sat, dwarfed, in her rocking chair, singing Coraline to sleep.
Speed bonny boat like a bird on the wing,
"Onward!" the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.