The idea is simple – post an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt -this week’s is “pat/pet/pit/pot/put.”
Okay, this prompt, right off the bat, is making me think of a previous prompt: “bat/bet/bit/bot/but.” For that one, I wrote a nifty story snippet for Sarek, where the nonsense syllables were the crystallization of all the things he didn’t understand about his toddler son, and all the things that separated their philosophies regarding the commencement of Spock’s adult life.
So, I’m going to do both!
We have a companion dog. He is not a pet, although he loves to BE petted, patted, scratched, and thumped lovingly. His name is Corki, because, although, he seems to be a pit bull/Vizsla by dubious pedigree, he has a little corkscrew of a tail more suited to a bulldog. One of his favorite things is when he sees the pasta pot come out for mac and cheese, since he knows he’s going to get something to finish up or lick clean before long, and cheese is his favorite treat. As soon as the leftovers are put down for him, he wiggles his entire backside and goes to work – a one-dog cleanup machine!
Well, that was easier than I thought it might be! Nifty! Now, on to the other idea…one which may not go as quickly, or as smoothly…kind of like life with a toddler who can claim two diverse species as his heritage, and who must also learn to find some balance between them…
The difficulty with the child began, predictably, with a whining that would have caused Sarek to wince, if he had not repressed the impulse.
“He’s teething, and feverish,” Amanda said, as the whine turned into a wail that was even more distressing to Sarek’s sensitive hearing.
“Were he Vulcan, he would find adequate soothing in his current activity.”
The boy lifted his head from his nursing, but did not unlatch. He stared at Sarek; he knew just where to look, and the dark eyes were vivid with intelligence, despite the alien human tears that leaked from them. “Aah Ehh Ihh Ohh Uhh!” His small face wrinkled into a scowl, and his fist knotted into the amber necklace Amanda wore, which she had explained was intended to offer the boy some comfort as his teeth erupted. It did not appear to be so; but Amanda did wince at the force of the child’s grip.
“There is no logic in attempting to communicate while your mouth is full, Spock.” Sarek stated the obvious.
Perhaps there was also illogic in continuing to expect that the child would respond well to such statements, despite his obvious ability to do so if he so chose. He clamped his mouth down on Amanda’s breast with enough force to elicit a short exclamation, and repeated himself, pounding that fist, which still clenched at the necklace, with each mangled syllable.
“Kroykah,” said Sarek, but the child did not desist.
“Be kind, Spock,” Amanda said, softly, gently taking the boy’s hand in her own. She made no attempt to disentangle him from the strand of amber, but she did tap the matching band around the child’s wrist. “You can chew on this, or nurse. It’ll help with the pain.”
Spock’s tears still fell, but his face smoothed as he looked at his mother. He released the nipple, and said, “Bat bet bit bot but?”
“I wish I understood,” she sighed. “Or that you could show me what you want.”
“He has command of seventeen words, in Standard, and thirty-two, in Vulcan. Additionally, he is sufficiently skilled at two hundred forty eight hand gestures to assure we will understand his intent. I find it difficult to accept that, among them, he has no means by which to express his need or desires.”
The boy shifted focus again, and released the necklace to slide from his mother’s lap. He came to stand before Sarek, tears wetting his face and milk dripping from the corners of his mouth. “Batbetbitbotbut.”
“Enunciate.” If the child would insist on the syllables that had no apparent meaning, at least Sarek could encourage that he do so with precision.
The child’s face contorted again, then smoothed into something more like a Vulcan demeanor – except that his eyes were as fierce as any Burning male at Koon-ut-kal-if-fee. “Bat. Bet. Bit. Bot. But.” He waited, only staring, as he lifted his wrist to begin gnawing at the amber bracelet he wore.
Sarek nodded. “That is satisfactory.”
But the child would, apparently, be contentious. “ “Bat. Bet. Bit. Bot. But. Pat. Pet. Pit. Pot. Put. Dat. Det. Dit. Dot. Dut. Mat. Met. Mit. Mot. Mut. Fat. Fet. Fit. Fot. Fut…” He went on, from one beginning sound to another, stopping only to worry at the amber, then beginning again.
“It’s how human children learn to talk,” Amanda said, coming to stand beside him, and smiling indulgently at their son.
Perhaps it was so, and this a normal part of Spock’s unique path to language. However, Sarek was certain that the boy was challenging him. The syllables went on and on, and the child’s focus never faltered.
Enjoy stream-of consciousness writing? Come play – there’ just a few simple rules. See you next week, for another live-streaming look into the lovely chaos in my mind! =)