Field of Poppies

1911-1913

            "Baa-baa black sheep, have you any wool?"

Tommy heard Amelia singing as he trudged upstairs after a long day's work. After, he heard Max giggling and baaing like a sheep.

"Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. How many is three, Max? One...two...three!"

"Three!" Max echoed.

No matter how difficult the day was for Tommy, he couldn't help but smile when he heard his little boy talking so sweetly with his mother. It was like magic sometimes. No one said having a family was easy, but seeing Max and Amelia smile always put Tommy in a good mood.

He nudged the door open to the nursery and Max leaped off Amelia's lap to greet him. "Daddy!"

"Hello, hello." Tommy picked him up and kissed his cheek. "There's my boy."

Amelia smiled and stood up to give him a quick kiss. "Hungry?"

"No, I ate. Thanks, love." He set Max down. "What did you two get up to today, then, aye?"

"Martha came over with Abigail. Did you see your cousin, Max? Did you see Abby?"

The little boy beamed. "Daddy, Abby s'a baby." The two-and-a-half-year-old tugged on his father's pant leg.

"I know. She's very little. Seems like yesterday you were that little." He remarked, watching as Max wandered away from him and to a toy train left on the rug.

"Martha was a little worried." Amelia kept her tone light as she didn't want Max to pick up on her concern. "She said John came home last night a bit not well."

Tommy's eyes flicked to Max who didn't seem to be paying attention. But that was the catch. He had made the mistake of assuming the little boy either wasn't listening or couldn't understand him. Because after talking to Arthur in Max's presence, that same night, the toddler turned to his mother and as clear as day said, 'fuck'.

And despite warnings and telling offs, Max enjoyed the shocked attention he got when he used the word, so during a visit to Polly's he yelled it out.

Luckily, they'd managed to somewhat curb the behavior, but they all went out knowing they were running the risk of having a toddler cursing up a storm.

"Well, he knows what he did," Tommy replied.

"I don't know what he did." Amelia widened her eyes at him, unable to raise her voice.

"It isn't important."

"Thomas..."

"It's late, Mel. Time for bed, Max." Tommy passed by her to scoop him up. "Say night to mumma."

"Night, night, mummy!" Max blew her a kiss, one of his new tricks.

"Good night, my love."

~~~~~~~

Tommy's attempt to distract Amelia only worked until Max was fast asleep and they were both in bed.

As he draped an arm around her waist, she brought up the subject again. "You know what Martha asked me today?"

"What did she ask you?"

"If John should write up a will. A fucking will, Tommy. He came home and she saw so much blood, she thought he was half-dead."

"He was fine, Mel, it was a cut. He wasn't complaining about it at all. He knows that when you pick fights with people bigger than you, you get hurt."