So I thought I'd try something a little bit different here. This is a short story about the Pevensies parents and how they deal with each of their children in early life. Anyway may do a little more but fore know here it stands. I still own nothing.
Mr. Pevensie watched his beautiful wife as she sat knitting with a tall glass of water by her side. It was nearly August and it was fairly cool for the season, but the baby constantly made her hot. The doctors said it could be any day now that they would be parents. He could hardly believe the idea. Five years they had waited and worried that they wouldn't be able to have children, but now they both found themselves content in the fact that less than a week from now they would bring home their new son or daughter.
Helen insisted that the baby would be a boy because she said that a mother could sense these kinds of things. He half hoped it would be a girl just because he wanted a daughter that was just as beautiful as his wife. She caught his eye and gave him a curious look but never stopped moving her needles back and forth clicking softly. "What are you thinking of darling?" She asked quietly.
A smile danced across his face as he continued to watch her. "I was just imagining how beautiful our daughter will be." Her eyes flew up to him like they always did, the liquid blue playfully fighting the near black.
"I still say that we will have a son." She insisted. He couldn't help but chuckle a little at her determinedness. They both knew that whatever the outcome this child would be loved more than imaginable.
A full week later on August 9th a healthy baby boy was born on schedule. "You were right." He admitted with mock defeat as he watched Mrs. Pevensie hold their tiny new son.
"I told you a mother knows these things." She smiled a bit smugly before turning back to the baby. "Do you want to hold him?" All he could do was nod and carefully accept the tiny sleeping bundle.
The feeling that welled up inside him was so bright and full of hope, it was so real. He felt the wonder that was this little boy. "What are we going to call him?" He whispered. This child was so red and wrinkly and had only a tuft of light feathery hair on his head. Still he was the most beautiful thing in the world to his parents.
"I want to name him something strong and solid. Something that shows he will bring hope to others. In silence they both watched their son's blue eyes flutter shut.
"The name Peter means rock." He said as he tenderly handed the now squirming pile of blankets back to his mother.
"Peter…" she whispered. "Peter, I like it." They both smiled as they took in their new son. "Welcome to life Peter Pevensie." She whispered softly. "I pray that you grow to be a rock for others and to protect those who are put in your life." They both smiled softly.
"Peter," his father began, "I pray that you will walk in the ways of the Lord all your life. May you learn the responsibility and burden of true faith wherever you may go. And most of all know that your Mother and I love you more than anything in life." Peter's blue eyes started straight into his father's as though affirming the prayer just spoken. There was something so bright about him. Both his parents sighed happily as he drifted off to sleep.