Sense of Sense

Snuggle

A week has passed since the birth of Harsha, the home of the Baswara Family is getting lively with the presence of the little baby in their midst and of course it also makes Sapphira more busy.

Alvin and Zain eagerly welcomed their younger sister's presence. And as always, Alvin always manages to cheat the ages. He simply sat by the bed while staring at the sleeping Harsa or stretched out his finger so that Harsha could grasp it. Unlike Zain who continues to want to be close and try to hold Harsha like a puppet.

Harsha, what, bobok continues?

Harsha's a doll, huh, Mah?

Harsha likes to eat chocolate, right?

Zain's questions inevitably invite the laughter of Sapphira and Ashqar. Both were overwhelmed to face the enthusiastic attitude that Zain showed. But it just warms the heart.

Alvin and Zain will approach Harsha before leaving for school and will rush to him when he gets home, as well as Ashqar. Sapphira was even envied by the attention of her three men who were now moving on to Harsha.

“Si attention grabber,” said Safira, sitting from lying down and leaning his body on the head of the bed. She carefully lifts Harsha's body and opens her pajamas' two buttons and starts breastfeeding Harsha before her daughter cries.

Taking care of the baby was more difficult than Safira had anticipated. She had to get up once every two to three hours at midnight to breastfeed and change a Harsha cloth diaper. After that Safira could not go back to sleep, especially when she woke up after midnight, two or three in the morning, her drowsiness suddenly disappeared somewhere. Not to mention she still had to prepare the needs of her husband and children in the morning.

Safira did not want to complain and was not used to doing it, but the pain in the seams every time he walked made Safira could not stand it. Not to mention that he was still worried about defecation, worried that the stitches were open making Safira feel very difficult to complete the hajat.

“Mood, Zain color pencil where?” zain shouted from his room.

Safira jerks. He grimaced, closing his eyes as Harsha clenched her mouth. The dilemma strikes him as Zain's screams are heard again and Harsha is shocked, while he cannot approach his son or shout back. Safira only hopes that Alvin will approach Zain and help him.

However, it was only Sapphira's hope. Suddenly, Zain screamed louder than before and made Harsha cry loudly. In a hurry, Safira restyled her clothes and got out of bed and grabbed Harsha.

Harsha's cries did not subside even though Safira had brought her daughter around the room. And as Safira sat on the edge of the bed to rest her legs for a while, Harsha squirmed unsettled. Her daughter is more fussy if Safira stops petting.

It had a serious impact on his mood, fatigue and lack of sleep was very influential on the physical condition of Safira. Not that she didn't expect this, but then again, she was a new mother and taking care of five and ten-year-olds wasn't the same as taking care of a newborn.

When Harsha regained her senses, Safira immediately moved her daughter onto the bed and she also realized that the calmness was sweeping the entire house.

“Kok, my feeling is not good. Usually if Zain suddenly diem like this ..” Sapphira did not want to guess what was going on in her son's room. He only hoped for this calmness because Alvin had already managed to help Zain find a colored pencil.

The sound of the door being pushed distracted Safira from Harsha's face. The door to her room was deliberately not closed so that when Harsa cried, but she was doing other work outside the room, Safira could immediately tell.

“Mamah.”

“Zain? Have you seen the colored pencil?” safira asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“But.” Zain throbbed, his eyes narrowed almost like a straight line while his hands folded neatly on his chest. “Mamah why, anyway? Zain called from earlier, but Mamah did not come to.”

Safira smiled stiffly as she walked over to Zain. “Sorry, Mas Zain. Harsha woke up and mamah had to give her sister Harsha a drink,” Safira said, crouching before Zain.

Zain's face grew cloudy. He glanced at the bed, precisely at Harsha who had just let out a small moan. “Harsha ngerepotin.”

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✄................................................

Who asks for a mild conflict raise your hand?