" my love, my little spider. "
Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers are embarking on their most frightening mission yet: parenthood. Here is how they handle raising their miracle baby: Anastasia James Romanoff Rogers.
Sequel to Widow's Lullaby.
REQUE...
Age: 12 months Location: Barton Farm Requested by: me (author)
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ANASTASIA ROMANOFF-ROGERS MURMURED AWAKE WHEN THE MILD-LIGHT CREPT THROUGH THE PALE GREEN CURTAINS OF BABY NATE'S NURSERY. It was only six o'clock in the morning, far too early to be awake, yet every other adult member of the household was busy with life. The girl could hear the faint sounds of dishes clattering and people murmuring from downstairs, but she had no clue what they were doing.
Honestly, Anya had no idea how she even ended up in the maple crib in the first place given the fact that she fell asleep on her daddy's chest only a few moments prior... It was hours actually, and no one was complaining about how much rest the tiny ginger got in that crib by herself.
After a long few days of endless fun chasing her cousins at the Barton farmhouse, it was no wonder that Anya started to sleep fully through the night. She was downright exhausted, protesting naptime and greeting everyone in her presence with her newfound growing repertoire of words. That little girl could spend eons with Lila, soaking up the attention as both the baby and youngest girl of the family.
Honestly, the middle Barton kid often treated Anya as her own personal baby-doll at times, doting on her, carrying her around everywhere, and dressing her up. However, the red-head would not protest to that affection for a moment, graciously welcoming it.
Catching up with her older cousins is the primary reason why Anya struggled so much at naptime. While she loved being able to soak up cuddles with her mama, she also wanted to play with her cousins. The amount of FOMO trapped in her curious little body was humorous at times, at least until she becomes so tired and dysregulated that she starts to cry in response.
Little Anya cooed in confusion as she propped up on her bum to look at the nursery. Soon, her little hands gripped with smooth brown wood, grunting softly as she pulled herself up into a standing position – using the edge of the crib as support.
Anya stood in the crib, looking out patiently at the room for another minute or so before yelling. She was growing bored of just waiting around for someone to free her from the wood prison. If they didn't release her in time, the girl considered trying to urge her way over the edge and crawl out herself.
Fortunately, before Anya could act on her irrational thoughts, Natasha strode through the door, greeting the two young kids in the room. Nate's face was scrunched in displeasure, being almost three, he disliked mornings and was annoyed at the fact that Anya woke him up. In fact, when Natasha bid him good morning, the boy only grumbled in response, pulling the blanket back over his head as he rolled in his toddler bed.
Unlike Nate, Anya was ecstatic to see her mama, squealing and clapping her hands as she came into view. The woman giggled in response, leaning forward in the crib to pick up the girl, placing her on her hip. She bounced Anya around a little on her hip, causing the baby to cackle in glee.
