I've been in a mood for some fluff and weirdness lately, and if you know me, this was inevitable. :)
Donna really didn't have this on her bingo card....
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Donna waited for the splat into the little bowl as she carried the food over to the anti-grav high chair.
"Right, mashed bananas." She held out the tiny blue spoon. "Let's try this again. OPen up!"
This earned a flurry of giggles and baby babble from the brown-hair toddler in the high chair., to which Donna took the opportunity and placed the spoon into his mouth.
"Finally" she said to herself. "Glad the TARDIS is self-cleaning, I don't even want to think about how long it'd take to get the pureed pears off the walls. So, how is it?" she asked, picking up another spoonful. " Want more?"
In response, she got more babbling, only this time sounding like " 'nanas good!"
Donna almost laughed. "It's still you in there, isn't it?"
As she continued the feed him, the events of this morning flashed in her head: the accident in the Vortex, the TARDIS console sparing like fireworks, and the Doctor ending up a small, wiggly, baby (well, if Donna had to guess, he'd be around a year and a half) with a snotty nose and tiny trainers. Who she now was forced to care for until he either grew back up she figured something out.
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After lunch came playtime, which the TARDIS generated an army of plushies and baby blocks , while Donna kept a watchful eye on him.
"Oh, no!" She guided the baby Doctor away from the discarded sonic screwdriver. "We don't chew on that."
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An hour later, Donna had settled in a rocking chair with a book, just glad to have some quiet... when a piercing wail rang out. Silently, she prayed he hadn't crawled off down one of the many corridors. Or worse.
"There you are!" she exclaimed, carrying the Doctor back to the pile of blocks. "What's wrong--- oh!"
Donna wrinkled her nose. It was worse.