Zephaniah // z.m

1. The beginning

Zayn

"Zeph," I whispered, softly rubbing circles on his- covered in Toy Story's pajama shirt- belly. "Zephaniah, wake up, buddy. Ms. Heather is coming to play with you today."

Zephaniah slowly opened his eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them, sleepily staring at me for as long as it took his little mind to wake up and process. "Want to play with you daddy. Not w-wwith Ms. Heather." He mumbled sleepily.

I chuckled, "Good morning to you too, buddy." I ran my fingers through his dark hair and stared at his green eyes, that were surrounded by thick and long eyelashes.

The seven years old turned onto his side and pressed his finger to my cheek as he looked at me, the nerves already visible on his face. "Morning daddy, but I want- want to play with you daddy, today? Please." His bottom lip quivered - I knew he was nervous to play with his caregivers.

"Zeph," I sighed sadly, "You know what I told you, yeah? Daddy has to work because..?"

Zephaniah looked down and rubbed his sleepy eyes once again, "Because I get- get food and clothes." He said quietly, blinking the tears away.

"Mhm," I carefully lifted my son up and placed him on my lap, cuddling him close to my chest. "Daddy loves you so much, do you know that?"

He looked up at me, his rare colored, green eyes sparkling as a toothy smile appeared on his face. "As m-much as I love dogs!"

I chuckled and ruffled his hair, softly stroking his cheek after that. "That's right, little man. Should we get you dressed?"

Zephaniah pecked my lips and jumped off my lap, walking over to his closet and opening the drawers where his trousers and shirts were stored. He stared at it and I noticed his eyes blinking rapidly, sometimes they widened, sometimes he narrowed them because he couldn't really focus. Eventually, his little hands flapped- the stimulus of seeing too much blocking his little mind.

"Too much choice, buddy?" I said sympathetically, walking over to the closet to see it myself.

He automatically reached for my hand and looked up at me, his green eyes wide. "You choose, daddy. I d-don't know."

I looked through his drawers and chose some denim shorts, as it was rather warm today, and a white shirt with small brown dogs all over it. I still had to find a way to let him choose without getting him overstimulated- but it was rather hard to do so.

"Here, this looks nice to me. What do you think?" I asked my son, who already smiled brightly when seeing the shirt with dogs.

"Love it, daddy. You will- will help me, baba? Put it on." He questioned, his cheeks coloring and although I knew I probably had to stimulate him to do it himself, finding the balance between what would help him or overstimulate him was hard to manage.

I nodded, helped him out of his pajamas and frowned when I saw his blue underwear, remembering I had changed him into it a day ago, "Did Ms. Heather make you change your underwear last night?"

Zephaniah frowned and thought about it for a few minutes. His eyes roaming all around the room and his lips slightly parted in the process. After a minute or so later, he spoke up, "No, daddy."

"Why didn't you do it yourself then, Zeph? You know where we keep your underwear." I crouched down to his eye level and stared right into his eyes.