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Clémente had off-handedly mentioned to the rest of the Lark, that today was Mother’s Day. None of the Lark gave the holiday much thought, until Clémente said it while looking at a sheep.
To give credit where credit’s due, Kingsley came up with the idea of doing something for the holiday. Peregrine shook it’s head at the idea, their voice skeptical of being able to.
“It’s far too late now… and we have so many people whose homes we sleep at.” It was true, the Lark individually bounced from home to home. Cole and Clémente did frequent Mx. Playwright and Cooper’s home the most, Cole because they had a room and Clémente because you could never separate the two. They were two halves of one whole, seeing one without the other was rare. Cole nodded at this, murmuring almost while watching Clémente pet a sheep.
“I wouldn’t wanna pick favorites…” Kingsley huffed at the two refusing to consider the idea, putting their hands on their hips. When Kingsley had an idea, it was impossible to make it reconsider.
“Well, just don’t pick favorites! We can pick the most motherly one!” Kingsley was filled with bravado and confidence, like this was the most sound reasoning. “Like Tita Amara!”
Clémente had rejoined the group, softly holding onto Cole’s arm as they witnessed the exchange between Peregrine and Kingsley.
“...You just called her Tita—” “Shh!!” It was impossible for the Lark not to laugh at something like this. Peregrine had not much interest in the holiday, considering they preferred anything to adults. So, Kingsley set their sights on Clémente, pointing at them.
“Clémmie! Who would you say is the most motherly adult?!” Clémente looked to the side, clearly considering.
“Hmm… maybe Cooper? They remind me of the mothers in the books Cole reads to me!”
—
Due to Clémente’s suggestion and Kingsley practically dragging them, they all ended up in Cole’s room with the door barricaded shut with a chair. It was Kingsley’s idea for the door, to “avoid spoiling the surprise”, but it wasn’t like there was much of a surprise.
They were all huddled around a piece of paper, folded in half to be a card. Peregrine had folded it, but didn’t seem too interested anyways, seeming to enjoy watching how the rest of them decorate the card with Cole’s paint. Cole had paint from when they painted their guitalele, but because that thing was fully blue, they were very low on blue. Clémente and Kingsley were lightheartedly bickering over what Cooper was the most like.
“Cooper is a dinosaur, they are!” “Pfft, no! Cooper is like— a really big bear! The ones Tita Amara warned me about!”
Cole tried its best to fix the bickering, not because they were worried about feelings being hurt, but mainly due to them running out of time.
“You could… draw both, and both of you can write your names underneath it.” Cole had already painted the background, a very foresty layout that they all agreed on. Peregrine promised to draw the Lark, and write “Happy Mother’s Day!” on the card, since they were voted to have the best handwriting. They were all gonna write a small message inside the card, Clémente with Cole’s help.
Clémente was still learning how to read, and write, after the realization that their “mummy” (what Clémente calls her, but Kingsley now disagreed she was ever a mummy since Clémente can’t read, and “mummys teach babies how to read”) never taught them how to. The Lark stumbled upon this realization during rehearsal, when Mx. Playwright gave Clémente lyrics written down, and Clémente just stared in confusion.
Clémente held zero shame for their lack of reading and writing skills, and instead simply dipped their finger in the purple paint to fingerpaint a dinosaur, since they hated holding brushes. Kingsley could hold a brush a lot better, they just refused to, covering their entire hand in brown paint.
Clémente took a lot more time painting the dinosaur on the right side of the inside part of the card, saving the left for writing. They had agreed to split the inside page in half, so they could paint their ideas of Cooper. Kingsley simply went for it, with so much confidence you’d think they were Picasso’s apprentice. Confidently painting out what it thought a bear looked like, they’ve never really seen one, but everyone has seen illustrations. Peregrine peered over, their head in the gap between Clémente and Kingsley’s heads.
“Kingsley, what is that?” It was lighthearted bullying, a common experience in the group. Peregrine was the best at it, able to relax their tone and not reveal their inner giggling.
“What are you on about?! It’s a bear! It’s so obviously a bear!” While Clémente relied on their pointer finger, leading to a more precise finger painting, Kingsley just went with it with its entire hand. This made the bear look like… a brown blob with eyes. Clémente was murmuring with Cole, a lovestruck look in both of their eyes, which made no one come to Kingsley’s aid. Peregrine pointed at Clémente’s almost-done dinosaur.
“That’s a dinosaur,” they then pointed to the bear, “and that might be a rock. That is no bear.”
Kingsley let out a dramatic gasp, grabbing onto Clémente’s arm to make them come to their aid.
“Clémente, Peregrine—” “Oh, my dinosaur!” Surely enough, Kingsley grabbing onto their arm caused their hand to shake, changing what was meant to be a blue pinkie to a blue hand-blob-thing. Kingsley instantly looked guilty, looking down at the damage to the painted dinosaur's hand.
“Okay lang, okay lang— here, I’ll fix it!” Kingsley dipped their clean hand into the purple paint, the same color as the dinosaur, and used it to blot out the hand until it looked more like just a blue pinky.
“You’re quite kind, Kingsley.” Cole spoke so softly, it was a contrast to the loudness of Kingsley, but it was a welcome one. Kingsley stuck their tounge out at Cole, before smiling at Clémente.
“Ta-da! All better!” Clémente beamed at how its dinosaur was fixed, holding their purple paint-covered hand up.
“Hehe, thank you!” Kingsley got the memo, and pushed their brown paint-covered hand against Clémente’s, making a real mess of paint over their fingers. They laughed as the paint made an odd, smooth texture on their hands.
While that happened, Peregrine took the paper and a pencil, writing a quick and small message to Cooper. Peregrine looked up at Cole when they finished writing, passing them the pencil, before going to fetch a bucket of water.
Just about two minutes after the youngest two made a mess all over their hands, Peregrine placed the bucket of water between them, and a towel next to it.
“Rinse your hands, so you can write.” They were way too eager to shove their hands into the bucket, giggling as the water turned less and less transparent and the paint rinsed off their hands. Cole assisted them with wiping the water off their hands when they finished.
Eventually, the card made it through them all, and they all wrote messages of varying lengths. Cole’s, naturally, was the longest, followed by Clémente, Kingsley, and Peregrine with the shortest. When they finished completely with the card, they placed the card in front of an open window, to encourage the paint to dry quicker.
—
Later, at dinner time, the card finished. At the dinner table, a rare time where the Lark all came to the same home for dinner, Kingsley presented the card to Cooper with a little “ta-da!”. They insisted on being the one, since it was their idea, and no one protested.
Cooper teared up in two seconds.
“Oh, baby, look— A mother’s day card!” The Playwright peered over at the card, made by all the Lark.
“...Are you a mother now?” Cooper tearfully nodded, holding the card to their chest with so much pride. Pointing to the little painted drawings, they asked the Lark.
“Is– is that me? Am I a dinosaur and– and a… a…” Cooper stared at the card for an embarrassingly long time, “a rock? Am I a rock?”
The Lark broke out into laughter at Kingsley’s expense, Kingsley huffing and laughing with embarrassment.
“No, it’s a bear! A bear!” Cooper nodded, quickly going with it.
“Yes, yes, it’s obviously a bear. My mistake, Kingsley, I’m a beautiful bear.”
Cooper looked over at the Playwright, sniffling like this is the best moment of their life.
“These are our babies- I’ll be the mother, you the father, and we can like, adopt them—” This made Playwright gawk, having to stifle down laughter at this very emotional moment their spouse was having.
“Love, no—”