Title: A Visit to the Day Care Room
Series: TOS, TSU, AU
Author: jat_sapphire (Jane)
Contact: jat_sapphire@femail.org
Rating: G
Codes: K, S, Sc, Mc, U, R
Summary: In the basement of one of the TSU buildings is a day-care area where something strange has happened. A gift for Pamela's SmutBaby shower.Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek. Henson's heirs own Muppet Babies, which gave me this idea. I'm just goofing around in the doll corner, so don't pick on me.
Notes: Hope toddlers aren't too icky-poo. I minimized the baby-talk. I sent this to T'Aaneli and Islaofhope before posting, but it's all my own fault.
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A Visit to the Day Care Room
**In a basement room at TSU with a lot of orange and yellow on the walls...**
Janice Rand didn’t know how she had ended up in this peculiar alternate universe. But she didn’t dwell on it: she had too much to do.
Right now there was relative calm, meaning only one actual crisis in progress, with a few minor annoyances.
Monty was in the high chair, making an awful mess with his porridge. He carefully dug his spoon in and tried to lift out as much as he could, then let it splat onto the tray (and spatter over the edge to the floor, onto his dimpled bare legs and all over his bib), where he stirred it and drew lines in it, scooped up little bits and tried to throw them, put a little back into his bowl with enormous care, and tried rubbing it into his skin, his plaid romper, and the plastic of the tray.
Lennie, who had been poking at Spock until Ee-Chiya gave him an evil glare and a not-very-serious growl, was now in the doll corner, actually out of trouble for once, except that the teddy bear he was eviscerating would definitely never be the same.
Obviously there was a lot of cleaning up in Janice’s future, but for now she had decided to pick her battles.
Nyota had been crying, also in the doll corner, and Janice wondered why. Perhaps she had been playing with the disassembled bear before Lennie got his hands on it. Anyway, Janice was holding her now, rocking in the big old-fashioned chair in the other corner of the room and rubbing the baby’s back. The warm damp face lay against Janice’s neck and a snuffle tickled her every half-minute or so.
From the chair, she could keep an eye on Spock, who made no trouble himself but was an excellent barometer for the others. His tense stare had alerted her to Nyota’s distress just before the baby began to shriek, and he had already gone after Jimmy twice to pull the smaller boy off something he was climbing on.
Now Spock was relatively relaxed, hunched over the book he was too small to hold up but evidently not too small to read. It was propped against Ee-Chiya’s furry side, and the huge animal lay quietly, chin on the floor, as if he were already used to being a book-rest.
But where was Jimmy?
Come to think of it, she couldn’t see the cat either, and she thought it had finally gotten used to Ee-Chiya—who had studiously ignored it since they had all found themselves here together. Janice could almost see him mimicking Spock’s meditations: "I am Vulcan. There is no cat."
Then Spock sat up straight and froze, stopped in the midst of turning a page. Janice sat up too, and Nyota raised her head and moaned around the two fingers in her mouth. Janice scanned the room but could not see Jimmy at all. He wasn’t under the chairs or on the table or on top of the play-house or crawling into the sink or swinging on the cupboard doors or finding the bread knife or putting his head in the commode or any of the other things he had already tried.
Jimmy and the cat out of sight and Spock alerted--Janice shifted her weight forward in the chair, ready to get up, when Spock's voice stopped her: "Don't move, Miss Rand."
Four years old, and he said "Miss Rand." And expected to be taken seriously. And was, by Janice at least.
She turned her head to follow his steady gaze. The cat must be under the rocking chair. Jimmy was bunched up between the chair and the wall, butt in the air, fingers under the rocker, head between the seat and the cross-brace between the legs.
Janice sat perfectly still. "Jimmy."
Thunk! The toddler's head bumped the bottom of the seat. "Uhm!" said the small voice.
"Jimmy, are you okay? Come out of there!"
"'M okay, teacher."
"Come out of there, Jimmy."
"'M okay. Kitty here."
Janice, immobilized by four tiny fingers below a scrap of wood not two inches wide, took a deep breath, trying hard not to lose her temper. She rubbed Nyota's back. The baby snuggled into her neck. Before she ever met him, long before, Jimmy too must have been this age, must have lain in someone's arms this sweetly. For a few weeks, anyway, before he began to plan his first crib escape.
"Jimmy," said Spock, "Ee-Chiya would like to be scratched."
Another thunk as Jimmy disentangled himself from the chair. "I s'atch Ee-Chiya?" he asked, popping up beside her elbow, blond hair all awry and face flushed.
"Yes," said Spock.
Janice opened her mouth to speak, then shut it as Jimmy wriggled past her legs and threw himself in Ee-Chiya's general direction. The book slid onto the floor; Ee-Chiya's head snapped up; Spock rubbed the side of his face. Ee-Chiya looked reproachful. Jimmy was ecstatic.
Choose your battles, Janice. She got up slowly (thinking of the cat) and went to put Nyota down for her nap. Then she supposed she should excavate Monty before the porridge dried solid.
In the nap room was an extra crib with balloons and streamers and a mobile--some very odd things on the mobile. Very odd things. Little pictures of--Janice's face grew warm.
Interesting times ahead, as they all grew up again.
She'd have to keep an eye on Spock. Definitely.
**end**