You yawned as you closed your book. With a sigh, you glared through your window, smiling as you did so. Soft, fluffy snowflakes were falling down from the sky, slowly covering your garden. With another yawn, you decided it’s time to get some hot chocolate, cursing the fact that you had to catch a fever today. Why didn’t it wait until tomorrow? Wrapping your blanket around you once again, you got up and stumbled over to the kitchen.
Your husband and son weren’t home; they went to see a movie. Actually, you had been planning to join them, but you felt like crap when you woke up this morning, so you had decided to stay home. Gilbert had tried to make you allow him to stay with you, but you had told him he had to go, since your son, named Bern, had been looking forward to go to the movie. You figured it’d be a great way for them to spend a father-son day.
Sadly, now that they were gone, you had to make your own hot chocolate. With a sigh, you placed the mug into the microwave and watched as it rotated. After a minute, the familiar sound “peep” made its way to your ears, telling you that the microwave was done. You grabbed the mug, went back to the couch and plopped down. Oh, how you hated fevers. Just when you had finished your hot chocolate and had decided it was time to get some sleep, your husband’s car made its way up to the driveway. Your six-year-old son jumped out of the car, grabbed his father’s keys and ran up to the door. You grinned as you watched the cheeky kid, you just loved how he was so much like his dad. He had your (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, but his father’s attitude.
‘Mutti, we’re home!’ he called. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Not so good,’ you moaned, rubbing your head.
‘Why?’ Bern asked, running into the living room and jumping on the couch. ‘You shouldn’t feel bad, that isn’t funny!’
‘I know,’ you sighed. ‘Don’t jump on the couch, honey.’
‘But...’ he pouted.
‘How was the movie?’ you asked, quickly changing the subject.
‘It was awesome!’ the six year old called, throwing his hands up it the air. ‘Right, Vati?’
Gilbert, who had just entered the room, grinned at you and nodded. ‘Ja, it sure was pretty awesome.’
‘What movie did you see, then?’ you asked, smiling softly at your two men.
‘We saw Alice in Wonderland!’ Bern called. ‘Do you know that movie?’
‘I’ve hear of it,’ you said. ‘But I thought you were going to see a movie about cars or something?’
‘We were, but he really wanted to see Alice in Wonderland, because Abella kept nagging about it,’ Gilbert sighed. Abella was Antonio’s child, the Spaniard had married your friend (friend name). It was actually very funny that you had ended up with Gilbert and (friend name) with Antonio. Bern and Abella were close friends, they always played together. Abella was a cute girl, but in your opinion a bit too fond of tomatoes.
‘Why couldn’t you join us?’ Bern asked, wrapping his arms around your neck. ‘The movie was fun, but I missed you.’
‘I missed you too,’ you smiled, hugging your son.
‘Wait!’ Bern suddenly called, jumping up. ‘I know something!’
He ran upstairs and returned with an old hat of yours. ‘I’m the Mad Hatter! Vati, you can be Alice!’
You and Gilbert stared at the boy for a few seconds.
‘We’re going to do the movie for Mutti!’ Bern said, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. ‘Come on, let’s find a dress!’
He ran away again, leaving a dumbfounded Gilbert and a laughing you. A frown appeared on your husband’s face, making you laugh even more. You had totally forgotten about your fever.
‘I don’t think he’s going to let you get away,’ you chuckled. Bern was about to make his father wear a dress, you could only laugh about that.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Gilbert sighed, hanging his head in embarrassment. ‘So unawesome.’
‘Oh, come on,’ you smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him on the couch, next to you. ‘I just want to know how the movie was!’
‘Of course,’ he mumbled. ‘Especially when I have to wear a dress.’
‘Exactly!’ you called, pulling him closer, kissing the albino’s nose.
‘Look what I found!’ Bern called, running down the stairs while dragging an old, long, purple dress along. ‘You can wear this!’
Gilbert moaned, but got up and pulled the dress over his normal clothing. He then looked in the mirror and chuckled. He lifted the small table in front of the couch and moved it out of the way, so that there was enough space for their little performance.
‘Okay...!’ Bern said, clapping his hands to get your attention. ‘The story starts when Alice was still a very little girl. She was laying in her bed, but she was having a nightmare.’
Gilbert laid down on the ground and pretended to be asleep. After a few seconds, he screamed and got up, looking around like he was expecting a murderer. You laughed as you looked at him; now that he was convinced this was fun, he was trying to make it as good as possible. The play went on like this.
It ended with Gilbert standing on top of the table, defeating some sort of monster. When he and you looked at Bern to see what was next, you saw that the little boy was sprawled on the ground, asleep. A smile graced your features as you saw him; he was so cute when he was asleep. His thumb was in his mouth and he squeaked occasionally, caught in his dreams.
‘I’ll put him into bed,’ Gilbert said as he noticed his son. ‘It’s been a long day for him.’
You nodded, covering your mouth to hide a yawn. You wrapped your blanket around your body again, suddenly feeling how tired you were.
‘I should go to bed too,’ you mumbled, but you didn’t move. The couch was comfortable too...
‘He’s in his bed,’ Gilbert said when he entered the room again a few minutes later, only to see you curled up on the couch. You had fallen asleep too. He smiled when he saw you; you were the cutest thing he had ever seen. He walked over to the couch and touched your forehead: fever had caught you in its grasp again. With a sigh, he picked you up and carried you into your bedroom. How he hated to see his awesome wife like this, defeated by fever.
He gently laid you on the bed and got into the bed himself too. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer, hiding his face in your hair. No matter what, he was staying here; guarding you from the fever.