𝕊𝕋𝕆ℝ𝕀𝔼𝕊 𝔽ℝ𝕆𝕄 𝔸 𝕎𝕆ℝ𝔻 ～ 𝘑𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘤𝘈𝘷𝘰𝘺

48 - [JM] Prognosticate

P R O G N O S T I C A T E
verb [prog-nos-ti-keyt]

To forecast or predict (something future) from present indications or signs.

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"What do you think of the Chinese place three blocks down?" James rubbed his chin and squinted his eyes. You frowned at the thought of that restaurant. It didn't fit the whole 'vibe' you were going for.

"Shouldn't we have something [y/s/n] would enjoy as well?" You suggested and he nodded his head slowly. He ran a hand through his hair then took a deep breath.

You placed a cup of coffee on the counter where he sat on a bar stool then smiled at him. "Well... we have a couple more days before we need to confirm anything," You said and went over to the sink to start washing the dishes.

You heard the sound of small, light feet walking on the wooden floor and you turned back, seeing that your three year old son entered the kitchen searching for a snack.

James reached out to take a cookie out if a jar to give to his son hut you slapped his hand. "No more junk honey! You were there for his dentist appointment," You eyed him and he sighed.

Your son started to complain, starting to suck on his fingers at the thought of eating a cookie.

You walked over to the fridge and took out a bag of baby carrots. You put a few in a small plastic bowl then gave it to [y/s/n], who started chewing on one of the pieces.

He waddled out of the kitchen and towards the living room where the television was on Disney channel-

THUD! CLANG!

You jerked at the loud sound then slowly looked back to time your son on the floor, on his stomach, and the carrots all over the ground.

James rushed to him and kneeled down, picking his son up and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Are you okay? Did you get any boo-boos?" He asked and [y/s/n] shook his head, looking sadly at all the carrots on the floor, "It's okay sweetheart, I'll get you some more."

James stood up and held his hand, helping his son towards the couches to watch TV. He walked back to the kitchen and shook his head as he picked the carrots off the floor and went over to the sink to clean them.

"He needs a hair-"

"No James," You snapped immediately upon hearing the word 'hair'. He stood beside you as you cleaned the counters with a cloth and crossed his arms.

"Oh come on, this is the fourth time this week that he has tripped!" He stated loudly and you clenched your jaw.

"Our son isn't getting a haircut James!" You glared at him and he held his forehead.

"Look... I get that you love his hair, and I do too. But he can clearly not see properly-And don't tell me that it's the shoes again baby," James pointed out and you bit your lip.

You looked back at your son sitting in the couch, smiling softly at the light brown hair that swept across his face. His hair was long, covering his forehead and some of his eyes. He looked so adorable with that style, you didn't want it to change.