It had been three whole weeks since Martin last saw baby Emilo — which, in six-year-old time, felt like a year. Emilo was just a toddler, but Martin adored him. He wasn’t just a baby — he was his baby cousin, soft and giggly with the tiniest hands and the funniest expressions.
Today, Martin stood anxiously at the front door, bouncing on his toes. “Are they here yet?” he called to his mom for the fifth time.
Then — a car door slam.
“They’re here!” Martin yelled, sprinting outside.
Aunt Lina stepped out of the car with a wide smile and a chubby bundle in her arms.
“Martin!” she called. “Someone missed you!”
Emilo peeked out from under a floppy sunhat, blinking sleepily. For a moment, he just stared. Then his whole face lit up, and he let out a squeal that sounded like a tiny trumpet.
“EMI-LOOOO!” Martin sang, running up and — carefully — giving him a soft hug. He had learned the word gentle ever since the last visit when he’d patted Emilo’s head just a little too hard.
Martin crouched down. “Hi, buddy. Remember me?”
Emilo drooled and wiggled his arms in response. Martin took that as a yes.
They sat on the grass in the backyard, Martin showing Emilo his toy truck while Emilo tried to eat the grass instead.
“No, no,” Martin said gently, pulling a leaf from his cousin’s mouth. “That’s not food, silly.”
Emilo giggled so hard he fell over.
Martin picked him up. “Careful! You’re a baby, not a bowling ball!”
Then came the bubbles. Martin grabbed the bottle and blew a stream of shimmering bubbles into the air. Emilo’s eyes went wide — he clapped, he crawled, he popped them with pure baby delight.
He even tried blowing his own — and somehow ended up with bubble soap on his nose. He blinked in confusion, then laughed.
Martin laughed too — a big belly laugh.
The two of them rolled in the grass, giggling, a tangle of toy trucks, bubbles, and baby giggles.
Later that night, Martin whispered to his mom, “I’m gonna miss him again.”
His mom smiled. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back.”
Martin nodded sleepily. “Next time, I’ll teach him how to say my name.”
