The Rejected

11- Oliver

"Mommy," I heard being called before I felt little hands tapping away beside my bed. I groaned and rolled over, but little giggles filled my ears before the tapping continued. "Mommy," the little voice called again. I sat up, rubbing my eyes before looking bedside my bed to see a blob of poofy reddish brown hair. Little hands opened and closed, the arms they were connected to up in the air as high as they could. I leaned over the bed hoisting my baby onto the bed, tickling his sides as we laid down. He squirmed in my hold, laughing loudly as I continued to tickle his sides. "Stop! Pease!" I stopped tickling him and he looked up at me with his big dark brown eyes. He had a big goofy smile covering his face. "Morning, Mommy."

I ran my hand over his hair, knowing if I tried to comb my hand through his hair, my hand would be trapped in his curls. "Good morning, baby. " My son eagerly moved off me to sit beside me on the bed. I looked over at him just in time to hear his tummy rumble. I put my hand on his face. "Someone's tummy is rumbly." He smiled, leaning his face into my hand. "What does Mason want to eat for breakfast?"

Mason shot into standing position, his hands reaching up in the air. "Waffle," he shouted excitedly, his shirt riding up a bit revealing his belly. I quickly pulled him into laying position before blowing raspberries onto his tummy. His legs kicked, but he always made sure not to hurt me.

"Then waffles we'll have, " I told him before rolling off the bed. I held my arms out and he immediately came over to me, letting me carry him out of my room and into the bathroom.  We did our morning routine of Mason's potty time before brushing our teeth. I held his hand as we walked down the stairs. I let go of his hand as he ran in the livingroom, making sure to put on a movie for him. "Play in here while Mommy makes you waffles, okay? " Mason nodded before heading right to the cars he had been playing with the night before. I walked into the kitchen immediately heading for my freezer. I pulled out the box of Eggo waffles and sighed to myself. "He couldn't have wanted pancakes. "

Now don't get me wrong, I could easily go in there and tell my son I'd rather make him some pancakes because that's something I know how to make that isn't frozen, and he'd be perfectly okay with it. However, it's his birthday today, and whatever he wanted to eat today, I was gonna make for him. I popped a few of the frozen waffles into the toaster before pulling out the butter and grape jelly. I was glad that my son didn't like the taste of syrup because he wasn't sticky! Although there was the issue of him wiping his hands all over his shirt.

It didn't take long for the waffles to pop out of the toaster. I put one on his plate and two on mine, spreading on butter and jelly before setting them into the table. I walked into the livingroom and paused in the doorframe. Mason stood on my couch with a picture from in his hand from my wall. I put my hands on my hips. "Mason Dean, what have I told you about touching those pictures?" Hearing my voice made him jump, the picture frame slipping from his hand and crashing onto the floor behind him. He covered his mouth with his hands as I walked to the picture frame. I picked it off the ground, glad that only the corner of the frame broke. It would just need to be super glued. I held it in my hands seeing it was the picture of my seventeenth birthday. I felt arms wrap around my leg and looked down. Mason had tears in his eyes as he apologized to me. I knelt down and hugged him. "You know you can't touch these. They can break really easy." He nodded, burying his face in my neck. I set the picture down on the ground before pulling him out of my neck. I pulled my sleeve down to start wiping the tears from his face.

"I just wanned to see," he said inbetween sniffles. I picked up the picture and showed it to him. I remembered the exact moment this was taken. Mason had his arm wrapped around me from behind. He was holding me in place because he covered his hand in icing and wanted to smear it all over my face since he wasn't allowed to slam my face into my cake. I recalled how loudly Keira was laughing as she took the picture. Mason's tiny finger pointed to Mason. "Who's dis mommy?"