Fleetwood Mac-Part III of Fritz Series

Don't Stop

***A/N NSFW ahead***

"Nova honey which one do you want? Yogurt or pudding?" Nova's dark eyes scan the choices in front of him as his mother waves them about "Bah" he points to the container of chocolate pudding and Stevie shakes it again "Can you say pudding? Pudding-pudding" he puckers his lips patting his chubby hand on the table top "Bababhahb" Stevie looks at me pleadingly for assistance. He's a momma's boy, if he won't talk for his mommy I doubt I can do anything different. "Nova, buddy can you say pudding? Pudding?" he scrunches his eyebrows at me and I sense tears. He reaches for the pudding again "Bahbhabah!" harmonica notes drift in from the living room where Sara and Ginny sit on the couch. I can't remember a time when Sara wasn't verbal in some way.

Maybe a speech therapist isn't such a bad idea. I mean just because therapy nearly got me committed for life that doesn't mean it has no merit.

"Maybe something easier...Nova say momma, momma" lifting my son into my arms I mouth the word at him he squirms reaching for his pudding "bahabah!" close, but not there "Momma, say momma" he sniffles reaching again "Bahhhhbahhba!" moving a tendril of her blonde hair to the side Stevie finally gives in dipping the spoon into the container and feeding him a bite "What if he never talks?" He's got mine and Stevie's genes he'll talk at some point, even if it's just to curse someone out on the playground.

"Maybe Greg can get him to talk, after one of his political lectures Nova will at least be able to say, no more." I get a weak smile from Stevie but I sense she's worried. I'm worried too. It's fine in the abstract sense if he takes his time speaking or even doesn't speak at all for some time, but the reality of his age and his lack of vocal development is a problem. It's compounded by the fact that Mick, while high off his ass, made a smart-ass comment about him possibly being retarded.

That cursing thing I mentioned earlier came out in full force that day. I don't think I've lost it that bad in years.

"Bah!babhahbha!" setting Nova on the counter top in front of me I spoon feed him chocolate pudding "Baby won't you say just one word for mommy? Just one little word please?" Stevie fiddles with his sneakers tying the loop as it's been undone. Her eyes plead with our son but he stays firm grinning as he guides his spoon to his mouth "Bah!". Nothing doing "The wedding planner wants a date for a rehearsal and a rough guest count" scraping the bottom of the cup with my spoon I murmur in agreement. Vow renewal, record production, brain tumor, and now Nova can't or won't speak.

Oh and a third baby on the way.

"I need you and Jeff to stop by the formal wear shop and get fitted for your tuxedos, please? And your shoes too" the last of the pudding is gone and I toss the cup into the garbage "Sure thing sweetheart, what about my little buddy here? Where's his tux?" tickling his chin Stevie bumps into my hip and I kiss her hair "I'll have to have him and Sara fitted another day. Speaking of...Sara Rhiannon go get your new lunch box so I can get it ready for in the morning!" I watch as my six year old ball of energy rushes from the couch to her bedroom the Muppet Show ending with the usual one liner from Kermit.

"I'm so nervous Linds...what if she doesn't fit in? What if she gets scared?" Sara's first day of school is in the morning. Kindergarten, she'll be out of the house for seven and a half hours. She's been to daycare and Robin's watched her and Nova but school is different. School means she's growing up, I don't like that one bit. She's my baby, my first born and I'll admit it she's a daddy's girl. Just as much as Nova's a momma's boy. I love all three of my children with my entire being, but Sara has a special place in my heart. She's our miracle child. Now she's going off to elementary school, then junior high, then high school...college.

Stevie's been in a low state of denial about the whole thing since we went school shopping a few weeks ago. A dull ache starts to spread over my left eye and unconsciously I rub at it "Linds?" my hand lowers and I rub Stevie's back "I'm alright, just a headache" she nods but places her hand on my forehead "Do you need your medicine?" Not if she wants me to be conscious and alert enough to help with the kids. "No, it's a headache Steph that's all" despite my assurances, however, she hovers.