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A true miracle had occurred in the Madrigal household.
Camilo was napping.
And Pepa could leave his side while he did, for the first time ever.
Usually, the seven month old refused to sleep unless being held, and he would awaken and scream whenever his mamá tried to put him down.
Today though, Pepa got lucky.
She tucked him in the middle of hers and Félix’s bed (surrounded by pillows so he wouldn’t fall out), with Pepa’s old yellow baby blanket, and her very own stuffed alpaca.
Another miracle being that Pepa really didn’t like sharing Agustín Junior.
Having something that smelled of mami, combined with his exhaustion, sent the baby into a deep slumber.
She’d almost forgotten what peace and quiet felt like, and it was heaven.
Until Pepa realised that she was bored.
With the unexpected free time, and not having to lay with Camilo while he napped, she wasn't sure what to do with herself.
Most everyone else was busy.
Perhaps Agustín was free? She loved to go and annoy him, and she didn’t recall mamá giving him any chores today.
With renewed energy at the prospect of spending time with her best friend, she quietly left Camilo to sleep and headed downstairs.
It didn’t take long to find him, relaxing on the couch with four month old Mirabel in his lap.
He appeared to be talking to her, as she returned his conversation with some happy, babbled responses.
“What are you doing?”
Agustín looked up and smiled at the sight of her.
“Hey. I’m trying to teach her to say papá.”
Pepa giggled at him, going to sit on the couch with them.
“She’s only four months old. I think she’s a little young for that.”
Dolores didn’t say her first word until she’d been almost a year old.
It was “papá”…however it was spoken to Agustín, rather than Félix.
It had been fun trying to explain that one.
“She could say it sooner. She’s smart. I can tell.” Agustín chuckled.
“Well, she certainly didn’t get that from you.”
Agustín chose to ignore that.
“Come on, Miraboo. Say papá. Pa-pá.”
The four month old just grinned up at him, placing a tiny fist in her mouth.
Papá made funny sounds.
She didn’t know why or what they meant.
Or that he wanted her to mimic them.
Agustín was undeterred.
“Papá. Papá….”
“…is an idiot.” Pepa concluded the sentence, and then started laughing hysterically at her own joke, the temperature increasing by several degrees.
She often did that. She thought she was hilarious, most of the time when no one else did.
She would laugh and laugh, while everyone else just stared at her.
“Very funny.” Agustín rolled his eyes. “Where’s Camilo, anyway? I thought he was surgically attached to you.”
“Sleeping. I gave him Agustín Junior. I think having something that smells like me comforts him. Maybe I’ll sleep with his chameleon plushie for a few nights, then I can have Agustín Junior back. You know I struggle to settle without him.”
As much as Pepa loved her son, the alpaca plushie was hers, and she still needed him at night.
Yes, it didn’t matter that she was thirty five. She’d slept with him every night without fail for almost thirty years.
The chameleon plush had been hand made especially for Camilo, by none other than his tío Agustín.
Camilo liked it well enough, but it was no substitute for his mamá’s comforting smell.
“I bet it feels weird, having your arms empty.” Her best friend mused.
“Mmm. It does. My arms are so empty.”
She actually wasn’t sure she liked it. It felt too strange. She’d had Camilo in her arms for most hours of the day since birth.
It felt weird not having a baby to snuggle.
Her eyes fell on baby Mirabel, who was cooing happily at her pá.
Being so busy with her own clingy little one, she didn’t get to spend as much time with her new sobrina as she would have liked.
Camilo hated being put down, after all. And mami holding a baby that wasn’t him was a heinous, heinous crime.
But Camilo was sleeping.
Looking over at his best friend, Agustín saw the longing look in her eyes as she stared at little Mirabel.
“Do you want to hold her?”
“Yes! Yes yes yes!”
As soon as Mirabel was on her lap, her heart melted. She looked so much like Julieta when she’d been a baby.
She definitely had Agustín’s eye colour though.
She vaguely wondered if Mirabel would need glasses when she was older.
Her eyes already seemed to have a little trouble focussing.
Not extremely noticeable, but enough to make her tía wonder about it.
It was clear that Mirabel was perfectly happy to be held by pretty much anyone.
Unlike Luisa had been at that age, who wanted Agustín and only Agustín.
And of course Camilo, who only wanted Pepa.
Mirabel was happy to be held by whoever was available to give her attention, as long as they handled her with lots of smiles and love.
She truly was a beautiful baby.
So bright, inquisitive and happy.
Her eyes sparkled, as she looked at her tía with such wonder and adoration.
It had been a welcome change from Luisa, who had howled as soon as Pepa even looked at her.
She still did sometimes.
“Doesn’t she look like Julieta?” Agustín sighed, fondly, mirroring Pepa’s thoughts. “She doesn’t look like me at all. Except for the eyes a little bit.”
“That’s probably a good thing.”
“Ay. That’s mean.”
Pepa sniggered.
Yes, Mirabel looked like her mamá.
But Pepa was also good at seeing the small details that others missed.
Despite how little she’d gotten to hold Mirabel, she’d noticed a lot over the past four months.
Mirabel would squint her eyes when she was tired, not dissimilar to Agustín.
She would arch her back when she stretched.
Again, like her papá.
And the adorable nose scrunch they both did when they were thinking about something.
She could never forget the nose scrunch.
Pepa took in a lot of things, even if she didn’t always say them.
“In all seriousness though, you’re definitely in there.”
“You really think so? I don’t see it.”
She lifted Mirabel and kissed her face, making the infant squeal in delight.
“See the way her eyes light up when she laughs? You do that.”
“I do?” He sounded surprised.
How could Pepa notice that, but not notice when he wore a new waistcoat?
“Yeah. And when you’re sleepy, you go all cross eyed.”
“I do not go cross eyed.”
“You do. Ask Julieta.” She continued bouncing Mirabel on her lap. “I’m your tía Pepa. Yes I am.”
She didn’t know what she did wrong, but Mirabel stopped smiling, and looked plain confused instead.
Eyes wide, mouth hanging open.
Her brain had completely stopped working.
It made Pepa burst into a fit of wheezy laughs.
“You really think she doesn’t take after you? You make that same stupid face.”
“I do not look like that!”
He did.
He really, really did.