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Despite the cuteness of his chubby baby cheeks, Willie had the same stern look on his face as his father did before he was set to blow.
“Perhaps some fresh air?” Isobel suggested.
They were now only an hour or so out of London and John would like to be there sooner rather than later, but he too needed a break from this relentless torture and hailed the coachman.
John was taking his betrothed and future son down to London to make arrangements for their wedding. As much as he had grown fond of Jamie’s son, he was ready to drown him in a roadside ditch by day two of the journey.
Wille burst free the moment the door was open. Into the whipping autumn wind, running out in a big loop and then setting a collision course for Isobel's knees. Right as she was stepping out of the carriage Willie made impact. John caught her elbow ensuring she wouldn't fall.
“Mama!” Willie demanded, clawing at skirts.“I need to wee!”
The ever loving Isobel sighed. She was much less attentive to her son's demands in her frazzled state so John took the initiative.
“I've got him.”
John thought back to the beginning of this trip when he'd promised himself that he was going to be a good father to young William.
John pried the boy away and guided Willie just off the road. Coming from behind John leant over the boy's head, pinning him in place with his elbows. He reached down and helped the squirming child unbutton his tiny breeches before stepping back.
He glanced back at Isobel who gave him a thankful smile. The clouds behind her were dark and quickly approaching. Rain was coming. Best they were quick.
A fearful scream snapped John out of his thoughts. He spun back around. Poor Willie was struggling to control his own stream of piss. The traitorous wind blew it back all over his little blue waistcoat. He let go of his prick in horror and tried to get away but with his breeches holding his knees together he couldn't run.
Instead, he dropped into the grass with the grace of a cannonball and preceded to thrash around in a mess of piss and mud.
“Downwind Willie! You're meant to piss Downwind!” John cried.
He rushed over to help but held the sobbing piss covered child at arm's length. No idea what to do next. The rain spat at him.
Fatherhood was shaping up to be harder than he thought.