The Trouble with Baby Bill

"Oh Arthur, isn't he beautiful?" cooed Molly Weasley as the midwife handed her a tiny, new born baby wrapped in a light blue blanket. Standing at the side of the bed, Arthur stroked his firstborn son's bald forehead with his left hand. His right hand was too sore from being severely crushed by his beloved wife.

"He certainly is," he replied in a strained voice.

"Oh I know. I'm all choked up too." Tears of joy were welling in her eyes.

"Yes ...that's it," he mumbled as he hid his throbbing hand behind his back. His tears were of a different nature.

"Of course, we can't give him the name we were going to," Molly remarked.

"That's right. He doesn't look much like a Brenda," Arthur concurred.

"How about ...Simon?" Arthur shook his head instantly.

"No, that's no good. I knew a Simon at Hogwarts. I've still got the scars."

"Dennis?"

"He used to break my glasses."

"Jeremy, then." Arthur made a terrible grimace, as if he was remembering something very painful.

"The less said about him the better. How about we call him Bill?"

"Bill," echoed Molly. "Yes, that's the perfect name." She kissed her son on the forehead. "Hello, little Bill." Bill stirred in his mother's arms, as if making a positive response to this choice of name. In fact he just had gas. Molly suddenly looked concerned. "Arthur ...we are going to be good parents, aren't we?" Arthur kissed his wife. He found this the best way to shut her up.

"Just you wait, we're going to be the best. Smooth sailing all the way."

~|~

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

"Arthur ..." groaned Molly sleepily.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

"Arthur!" she repeated a little more forcefully.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

"Yes, dear?" murmured her husband.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

"Bill's awake," she stated.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

"Uh huh," he mumbled.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

"It's your turn, Arthur."

"I thought it was your turn."

"No, Arthur. I did it last night."

"I've got work in the morning. Besides, he's stopped now," observed Arthur as he shifted under the covers.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!" came Bill's cries. He had stopped to take a breath.

"Now, Arthur," stated Molly, still half asleep.

"But Mollywobbles ..."

"Don't Mollywobbles me, just do it!" growled Molly dangerously from her side of the bed. Knowing when to take a hint, Arthur climbed out of bed and shuffled into the hallway. Once he had woken up enough to remember where Bill's room was, he hobbled into it and extracted his screaming six-month-old son. After feeding him he started rubbing his back to burp him. Bill did this and more, all over the back of Arthur's dressing gown. There was then the impossible task of getting Bill to go back to sleep. Arthur tried every trick he knew, which at this early stage of his adult life were not many in number. When all else failed (and it did), he resorted to simply pacing back and forth, his tiny son in his arms and repeatedly saying,

"For Merlin's sake, please just go to sleep." Bill was less than persuaded.

As a result of the long night, Arthur was less than alert when he arrived at work the following morning. He fell asleep on his desk no less than five times over the course of the day. He got all his paperwork mixed up, sending a personal letter to the Minister of Magic expressing his sympathy over his recent case of diarrhoea and a Department Progress report to his aunt, who had diarrhoea. All in all it was not one of his best days ...it wasn't his best of weeks either ...or months, come to think of it.

Arthur returned home after such an unremittingly awful day to find his wife trying to force a spoonful of baby food into Bill's mouth. She had tried the old trick of holding his nose until he opened his mouth, but he had just spat it back at her and then laughed triumphantly. Wiping her face clean with her wand, she gave her husband a fleeting glance of greeting before making another persistent effort at getting her son to eat something that was good for him. Hope springs eternal.

As bad as mealtime was, bedtime was always worse. Bill would make the most almighty protests against being put to bed. Arthur couldn't help but wonder where he got all the energy from, seeing as he never seemed to sleep at all. Arthur and Molly soon learned to wear something they didn't mind getting wet when giving him a bath. Once they had dried the bathroom floor (Bill hardly seemed to get wet at all and emerged as dirty as he had entered), the time came to actually put him to bed. Bedtime stories did nothing to sooth him, neither did gentle rocking or singing. Finally a draught of mild Sleeping Potion cleverly disguised as juice did the trick. After a particularly long struggle to get him to go to sleep Arthur and Molly decided they deserved a drink.

"It could be worse, Molly," said Arthur as he collapsed into a chair in the kitchen. "At least we won't be having any more anytime soon." Molly was about to give Arthur his cup of tea when she thought better of it.

"Actually, Arthur ...about that. Let me get you something stronger. I've got some news."