#baatar sr.

Baatar Sr. and his wife, Su, were enjoying some time with their 12-month-old son after lunch when there was suddenly a knock on the door.

"Oh, were we expecting anyone?" Su asked, looking at her husband in confusion.

"Not that I know of," Baatar Sr. responded, feeling as confused as Su looked.

Baatar Sr. opened the door to find his father, who he hadn't been expecting for a few more weeks.

"Dad?" Baatar Sr. exclaimed in shock, immediately pulling his father in for a hug. "What are you doing here? I thought you had chief stuff to do."

"I got off early," Sokka explained with a smile, as Baatar Sr. ushered him into the living room. "How are my beautiful daughter-in-law and handsome grandson?"

"We're doing well, Uncle Sokka," Su said, hugging her father-in-law. "Junior, say hi to Grandpa."

"Hi, Gwampa," Baatar Jr. greeted adorably.

"Hi, little otter penguin," Sokka said, picking his grandson up and snuggling him close before turning to Baatar Sr. and Su. "Isn't he a tiny bit young to be speaking this well?"

"Probably," Su chuckled.

"You're a little smartie-pants, aren't you, Junior?" Sokka jokingly asked his grandson.

"Junior smart pants," Baatar Jr. repeated with a nod.

"Junior go down now pweeze?" the small child asked his grandfather after a few moments.

"Sure, buddy," Sokka chuckled, placing his grandson down onto the floor. Baatar Jr. took a couple of shaky steps before falling down and ultimately deciding to crawl instead.

"He can speak in sentences, but walking's still a bit of a challenge," Su chuckled.

"No, no, no. Not in your mouth, Jun," Baatar Sr. said, hurrying over to his son who was attempting to put a slipper in his mouth. "Here," he placed a new set of stacking rings in front of the small boy. "Let's play with this instead."

"Pay this instead," Baatar Jr. repeated, looking at the toy in excitement, dragging his favorite otter penguin stuffed animal with him.

Baatar Sr. laughed. “He’s had that toy for four months and I’ve already had to stitch it back together twice,” he said. “He takes it with him everywhere .”

“I tried to throw it away after it broke the second time,” Su stated. “But he was so miserable when he couldn’t find it that I had to give it back.”

“Why not get him a new replacement one?” Sokka asked.

“Oh, we tried,” Baatar Sr. said. “He knows the difference.”

“Watch this,” Su said, picking up a new otter penguin identical to the one Baatar Jr. had in his hands except for the stains and tears and approaching her son who was sitting next to his otter penguin stuffed animal and playing with the stacking rings. “Hi, Junior. Can Mommy see your otter penguin for a second.”

Baatar Jr. reluctantly handed the toy to his mother.

“Junior’s turn now pweeze? Junior’s turn now pweeze?” the child asked desperately the moment his mother took the toy from him. 

“Here you go, sweetie,” Su said, discreetly switching the two toys and handing Baatar Jr. the new one.

Baatar Jr. quickly took the toy and cuddled it close for a moment before suddenly throwing the toy and bursting into tears.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Su cooed, attempting to hand the new toy back to her son.

“No! No! Want otto penwin!” Baatar Jr. scream-cried.

“This is otter penguin, sweetie,” Su said gently.

“No! Not otto penwin! Want otto penwin!” Baatar Jr. continued crying.

“Here you go, buddy,” Baatar Sr. said, handing Baatar Jr. his old otter penguin toy. “You know which one is yours, don’t you?”

Baatar Jr. made desperate grabby hands at the toy. “Otto penwin! Otto penwin!” He immediately cuddled his toy close as though he hadn’t seen it in months.

“Told ya,” Su said to Sokka with a smirk.

Sokka chuckled to himself as he watched his son completely immersed in yet another architectural magazine article this time on the best architectural feats of the past century.

“You know, University of Ba Sing Se has a great architecture program,” he told Baatar as he sat down on the edge of the teenager’s bed. “Possibly the best in the world.”

“Yeah, but it’s in Ba Sing Se,” Baatar responded, not even bothering to look up from the magazine. 

“So’s Uncle Iroh, and yet Zuko manages to visit him every time he has a crisis,” Sokka pointed out. “Which happens much more than you’d think, trust me.”

It wasn’t that Sokka wanted his only child to leave him for at least four years. He’d give anything to keep Baatar with him for as long as he lived. But Sokka wasn’t someone to keep someone from their passion, and his son already had quite the talent, making small stone buildings and monuments since the age of six. Ba Sing Se had much more to offer the teenager than the South Pole.

Baatar sighed deeply, placing his magazine down on his bed.

“But then you’ll be all alone,” he said quietly.

“I promise I can survive without you monitoring me,” Sokka teased.

Baatar brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

“Think about it this way,” Sokka said, moving over to sit next to his son and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you’ll find a way to make buildings in the South Pole that don’t melt. Then we can add that central heating system I came up with for the palace. And then you won't have to worry about me freezing to death while you're off giving people more things to write architectural articles about, so some anxious teenager can read them, go to University of Ba Sing Se, and become the next 'Baatar of the Southern Water Tribe'."

Baatar chuckled tearfully.

Seven Years Later...

“Now, that’s amazing,” Sokka said proudly, staring at his son’s work.

“It only took me four years at university and three years of planning and building,” Baatar said with a smile. “But I finally got you that melt-proof building.”

“And with central heating,” Sokka added. 

“You did a great job, kiddo,” he said in a more serious tone, pulling his son in for a hug. “Your mom would’ve been so proud.”

“And you?” Baatar asked.

“You know I’m always proud of you,” Sokka assured honestly.

"You're just saying that because you no longer run the risk of freezing to death without me," Baatar teased.

"Not true," Sokka said with a smirk. "I'd be proud of you even if this..." he gestured to his son's architectural feat. "Was a shack made of cardboard."

Baatar laughed. "Like that time you slept in that sand hut I made at Ember Island in the middle of summer?"

"The things I do for you," Sokka chuckled shaking his head at the memory. He had spent two nights in that hut, simply in support of his ten-year-old son, who had only managed to sleep in the hut for about an hour before retreating to Zuko and Katara's beach house.

"Well, I couldn't have done all this without you," Baatar said with a smile.

“You sure he’s not 3 already?” Sokka asked, raising an eyebrow. At only 9 months old, Bumi looked the same size as most of the 3-year-olds in the Junior Warrior Club Sokka and Suki started in the Southern Water Tribe. “I swear Kyoshi took over your body when you and Min were making him.” 

Aang chuckled and shook his head in amusement, placing the bowl of mashed sweet potato he prepared in front of his son, causing the baby to squeal in excitement.

“Seriously, Izumi’s a month older than him, and she’s only fitting into his four-month hand-me-downs now,” Sokka stated.

“He’s just a big boy,” Aang assured, tickling Bumi’s feet. “Huh, Bu-Bu? You’re a big boy, huh?”

Bumi babbled enthusiastically before throwing his spoon and stuffing a handful of sweet potato in his mouth.

Sokka watched in amusement as Aang continued to coo at his son.

“Your dad voice is worse than Zuko’s,” he laughed. “Katara’s mom voice isn’t as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“When you and Suki have your own, I’m sure your voices will sound just as bad,” Aang stated confidently. 

Sokka always appreciated Aang’s optimism, especially in difficult times, and now was no different. He and Suki had been actively trying for a baby for a few years now, and nothing seemed to be working out. Between the unsolicited advice from less close friends and family and questions and comments from strangers, it was easy for Sokka to feel disheartened about his and Suki’s fertility issues. But Aang’s encouraging words always lit his spirits. 

“I’ve heard the voices you two make at Bumi and Izumi,” Aang added with a smirk. “They sound suspiciously squeaky.” 

Sokka rolled his eyes lightheartedly. 

“Suki and I sound perfectly normal,” he insisted. “And we will continue to sound like that with our future baby.”

“Sure…” Aang chuckled, clearly unconvinced.

“Dadadada,” Bumi babbled, kicking his feet as he smiled up at his father.

“Yes, Bu-Bu Bunny-Bear?” Aang asked in his dad voice. “Were you looking for your dada? Huh, my little Bu-Bu Bungaloo?”

“Bu-Bu Bungaloo?” Sokka snorted with laughter.

“Bu-Bu Bungaloo is gonna sound pretty normal compared to what you’re bound to call your future bundle of joy,” Aang said with a smirk.

“Are you willing to put money on that?” Sokka challenged, grabbing a piece of paper from the corner of the kitchen.

“Oh, absolutely,” Aang stated confidently.

9 Years Later...

“Mr. Stuffy Poopy Diaper Butt-Buttikins?” Aang raised an eyebrow at Sokka’s latest nickname for his now-9-month-old son.

Sokka rolled his eyes as he continued to change his son’s diaper.

“You know, with everything that’s happened, I’ve refrained from calling out your baby nicknames and your dad voice, but I have to draw the line at ‘Stuffy Buttikins’,” Aang stated.

“Shut up,” Sokka chuckled, picking his son up off the changing table and holding him close.

“He has Suki’s eyes,” Aang said aloud. At first, Baatar’s eyes, like the rest of him, matched Sokka entirely, but recently Baatar’s previously blue eyes were looking much more green.

“He does, doesn’t he?” Sokka said with a small smile, looking lovingly at his son, who blinked up at him.

“She’d be very proud of you,” Aang said sincerely. “You’re a great father, even if your dad voice and nicknames are worse than Zuko’s and mine combined.”