this is the madness

Thistle watched joyfully as her tiny Viking son, was fascinated by natures beauty, come to them in the form of a dragonfly. She tried hard to think of the word in Norse for the bug, and she couldn’t so instead she said it in English. It is a Dragonfly, little prince a dragonfly. She smiled softly as he watched it fly to and fro and then dart away. He kept his attention on it, but it was all too soon forgotten, once out of sight.

Thistle looked at him with wide blue eyes, enchanted with the whisper kiss, he had landed on her nose. She blew gently into his face, as he looked at her and she gently nuzzled his little neck, humming quietly to herself in contentment. She had been happy before, but motherhood did something to her, and made her so happy she could sing to the heavens of all about it. She giggled gently and licked his ear and tugged at it gently, playing with him in her own way.