No More: 2P England and Reader:
"It's time for school," you mumbled.
"No," your husband and daughter mumbled.
Last night Amelia, your four year old daughter, had crawled into bed with you. She was starting preschool today so it was understandable, but you didn't know who was more worried about her starting, Amelia or your husband Artie.
Amelia's light red hair peeked up from under your comforter and slowly shifted closer to you. "Please don't make me go," she whimpered.
Your heart was heavy. Today was a big step for all of you. Really you'd rather she stay here with you and never grow up, but you slowly accepted the fact that she did have to grow up…just a little. You ruffled her light red hair which was just like her fathers.
Her freckle splattered nose peeked up from under the covers and her eyes went wide and wet, "Mommy," she begged.
Your husband joined in with her, sitting up and scooping her into his lap. "Honey," he whined, combing his fingers through her hair.
They looked at you with tear-filled eye. This was hurting you a LOT. You sighed and they perked up, hoping you would cave. "No, she needs to go to school." You reached out and scooped her into your arms.
She sniffled as you took her back to her room, helping her change into her first day of school clothes, light pink overalls and a yellow shirt, with Mary-Janes and frilly socks. She of course was pouting the whole time, her chubby arms crossed over her chest as she stuck out her lip.
Yet it melted away when Artie came in and put her flower hair clips in, even trying them on himself making her laugh. He gave her a piggy back ride to the kitchen with you following close behind.
After a breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes (made by Artie), you double checked everything in her back pack and dragged her out to the car. This time she really pitched a fit, grabbing onto the garage door frame and trying to keep a hold. You ended up setting her down and tickling her, setting her in the car as she recovered from her giggle fit.
Artie had insisted on coming along and bringing the camera; not that he hadn't gotten enough pictures at breakfast.
Pulling up to school, Amelia had fallen quiet, looking out the window with doe eyes. You helped her out of the car and held her hand while Artie held the other. The three of you walked toward the school, palms sweating, hearts beating wildly - a future waiting.
You and Artie remained mostly quiet on your drive home, tears poured down his cheeks while you held yours back.
"I don't want any more children," he croaked, when you stopped at a red light.
Your foot slipped in surprise and the car jerked forward. "What?" you said.
"I can't handle it," he sobbed. He turned his bloodshot bright blue eyes to you trying to look stern but ended up looking miserable. "She's not dating until she's thirty and she's never going to college. We can switch to homeschooling."
You found this almost humorous, the truth being you and Artie had gotten married when you were eighteen and had Amelia when you were nineteen. "Come…Come on honey," your voice cracked, while you tried to stifle a laugh. "We can handle it…didn't you want three kids? We just have to do this one or two more times."
Artie sighed, "I can't."
Your shoulders slumped and you tried to concentrate on the road through blurry eyes.
When you got home, Artie went straight back to bed while you changed back into your pajamas and lounged on the couch; more like sat there with your arms folded, plotting on how to get your husband over his fit.
You stomped over to the kitchen, set out a cupcake and a glass of milk on the kitchen table, and went upstairs. Artie was "sleeping" in your bed, cocooned in the covers with his tear stained freckle face hidden.
"Artie," you said, nudging the lump.
He pulled the covers down and looked at you with puffy blood-shot eyes, "What?"
"We need to talk."
Artie's eyes went wide and he threw off the covers, "W-What do you want to talk about?"
"Come downstairs," you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of bed. Artie was worried, but more surprised when you sat him down in front of the cupcake while you sat across from him. "Honey," you began, "We both love Amelia and I know today was hard, but that shouldn't change your opinion on having more kids.
Artie's head hung low as he picked at the cupcake wrapper. "I know...it's just…seeing my little sprinkle go off like that it was…."
Your features softened and your shoulders relaxed. "Horrible?" you whispered.
Artie sighed and nodded, "I don't want to do that again."
"Do you want more children?" you asked, leaning across the table.
Another nodded. He picked up the cupcake and peeled away the wrapper, "I would love more children," he said biting into the cupcake and covering his mouth with icing and sprinkles.
"Then you'll have to do it again," you said, "And again when they go to junior high, and high school, and college."
Artie gave one last dramatic sigh and took a swig of milk, "Okay…" he said.
You sighed in relief and slouched back in your chair. "Good," you mumbled, "Because I'm pregnant and there's nothing you can do about it." You sprang from your chair and rushed back up to bed.
"What?" Artie cried, running after you.