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Despite having spent her entire life (seven months) around snow, Kya Alasie never seemed to get tired of the stuff. The first time she had played in it, she’d be pushed off a sled by a two year old into a snow bank and had been carried – wailing – back to the car after her mothers had ripped into the brat’s parents for not teaching their child how to behave. The second time (at a different park), it was like the first time had never happened and Kya had taken to snow like she’d taken to crawling.
Gurgling with laughter, the baby crawled on and on, feeling the snow shift and crunch under her mittens and booties. The just-over-half-a-year-old had been thoroughly dressed for the weather: a thermal onesie under a waterproof one-piece snowsuit with added booties, thick mittens and a dense hat.
The mittens and gloves had been personally hand-knitted by the two women closely following behind – close enough to immediately scoop up their daughter if anything went wrong.
But of course, nothing would go wrong. Azula had scoped out every inch of the playground and decided it was safe enough for her princess, and having grown up around snow herself, Katara could tell if they were approaching patches of snow that were deeper than they appeared or were hiding rocks.
“Come on, Kya, keep going!” She gushed encouragingly. “You’re so good!”
Azula nodded in agreement with her wife. “Fifteen more seconds and she’ll break her record!” She was holding her phone, recording her robust daughter’s every move.
Ten seconds later, Kya stopped crawling, slumping face-down onto the snow.
“Aw, is someone tired?” Katara scooped up her daughter, while Azula put her phone away and wiped the snow plastering her chin like frosting away. “Time to go home!”
Kya mumble-babbled as Katara slipped her into the baby carrier she was wearing. The baby immediately settled in.
It took just a few minutes to get back to the car and just several to pull off the wet hat, mittens and snowsuit, leaving Kya in the still-dry onesie, and buckle the sleeping child into her safety seat.
Azula got into the driver’s seat, glancing over at her wife, who was going through the recording of Kya on her phone.
They exchanged smiles. “She was so close,” Katara whispered. Kya was tuckered out enough that whispering probably wasn’t needed, but seven months after Kya’s birth, it had become an instinct to be quiet around their daughter when she was sleeping.
Azula raised an eyebrow as she pulled her seatbelt on, playfully smirking. “Weren’t you the one to teach me that failure wasn’t always final?”
Katara giggled as she passed her wife’s phone back, and they both looked in the back at their sleeping princess. With her black hair and bronze eyes, Kya looked far more like Azula than Katara (though her slightly darker skin and South Pole surname confirmed half her DNA) and every time either parent looked at her, they were reminded of what too much pressure and not enough love did.
Azula turned on the engine. “There’s always next time.”