A/N: Hi! This would be considered a Ron/Luna fic. If you don't like this ship, skip this one. Also this one might be considered PG13 just because the word "shite" is used about 3 or 4 times. So if you don't like that word, you can skip this one too. I just realized that "Idle Threats" technically should belong in here, but I don't want to move it and lose all the wonderful reviews, so just consider that one a part of "Growth Spurts." Have fun!
It was a little known fact that Ronald Weasley liked to eat.
It was a lesser known fact that Ron liked to eat with his son, Ron Jr. or Ronnie. There was something satisfying to Ron seeing a fellow man with the same table manners as he. Whenever Luna would look at him with even a hint of reproach Ron would look over at Ronnie and hide behind his son. If Ronnie could get away with smearing peanut butter on his face, why couldn't he? Luna either couldn't or wouldn't dispute that logic.
At first Ron had been reluctant to name his son after himself. He'd rather have called him Arthur or Harry, but Luna had insisted. She'd said something about karma and since she was the Ravenclaw who'd left Hogwarts at the top of her class, Ron had shrugged and acquiesced even if it did sound a bit too much like Divination. If it meant that much to her he couldn't begrudge her. Besides, with his Weasley genes he knew they'd be having more boys to name Arthur or Harry.
Sitting there at the kitchen table eating lunch with Ronnie, the house entirely to himself since Luna had taken eleven month old Harry and gone out shopping with Ginny, Ron thought he knew what Luna meant by karma. He loved making his three year old giggle in his high chair and loved watching him make a mess of his food.
Ron pulled another face and Ronnie giggled madly, banging his plastic spoon loudly on the tray and kicking his feet in joy.
"And your mum thought I couldn't handle you on my own," Ron scoffed watching Ronnie pick up cooked carrot cubes that were supposed to be lunch and chuck them off the side of his high chair one by one.
"Hmm, I take it that's a no on the carrots," Ron mused to himself.
Ronnie blinked up at him and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Uckie! Carros, no."
"How does soup sound? Nana's soup?"
"Soup!"
"Soup it is!" Ron stood and prepared some soup his mother had brought over the day before. "Cream of chicken soup, a la Nana."
"Nanny!" Ronnie enthusiastically agreed, holding his hands up for the carefully warmed soup.
Ron set the little bowl down on Ronnie's high chair tray to which Ronnie immediately dunked his hand in the soup. He smiled at his father and licked his chubby hand.
"Er . . . you might want to use a spoon there, mate," Ron said picking up his spoon and dipping it in the creamy concoction. "Like this."
Ronnie watched raptly for a couple of bites before looking at his own spoon and the bowl. Ron could see the little cogs working in Ronnie's mind. Spoon, bowl, spoon . . . bowl. "Come on little mate, you can do it," Ron piped up encouragingly. Fatherhood wasn't so bad. He could do this, easily.
That was until Ronnie put the spoon in the bowl then lifted the bowl and dumped the soup over his head. "Soup!"
"Shite!" Ron yelped lunging forward and snatching up the giggling and utterly messy toddler.
"Shite! Shite!" Ronnie squealed at the top of his lungs.
"Ronald Weasley!" Ginny's outraged holler had him frozen to his tracks holding the dripping baby away from his body.
"Auntie!" Ronnie held out his arms, clenching and unclenching his chubby little hands.
"Ginny, what -" Luna walked into the kitchen and looked at Ron with a serenely calm if questioning expression. "Ronald?"
"Um . . . care for some soup?" he asked sheepishly.
"Shite!"
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