As Larry continued their walk, his mother began to squirm in the stroller, letting out soft whimpers. He glanced down at her, concerned.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” he asked, though he wasn’t expecting a response. She couldn’t talk anymore, after all.
She reached up weakly with her small hands, patting her stomach and pointing at him.
“You’re hungry?” Larry guessed, and she responded with a tiny, eager nod. Her whimpers grew louder, and she clutched at the air with growing desperation.
Larry sighed and checked the diaper bag, only to find it empty thanks to the squirrel’s earlier meddling. “Great,” he muttered. “No snacks. Guess we’re out of options.”
Her cries became louder and more pitiful, her arms flailing as her small body wriggled in frustration.
“Okay, okay! Stop crying!” Larry groaned, sitting down on a nearby bench. He glanced down at his chest and hesitated, his face warming at the thought of what he was about to do.
Gently, he picked her up and held her close, positioning her as she had done for him so many times before.
As soon as she latched on, her cries stopped. Larry sat frozen, still adjusting to the surreal moment as his mother nursed peacefully in his arms. Her tiny hands gripped his shirt, her eyes closed in bliss.
After a few minutes, she unlatched and looked up at him, letting out a soft coo. Her expression was content, as if nothing strange had just happened.
“There, happy now?” Larry asked, carefully settling her back into the stroller.
She responded with a giggle and clapped her small hands, oblivious to how absurd the situation truly was.
Larry sighed and resumed pushing the stroller, sneaking a glance at his mother, who was now dozing peacefully in her little onesie.