“Oh, ma bebe,” France grinned, tickling her tiny tummy until the baby/toddler giggled. She was turning two in seven months, and he couldn’t wait to celebrate it with her. Every day was a new surprise, a new experience, getting to know (Y/n). Today, he discovered she was ticklish.
Two and a half months after official, legal adoption, and he was already in love with the baby. He had been the moment she cried out in the orphanage, and he was drawn to the heartbreaking wails. France had originally gone to adopt an older child, but found nobody that really spoke to him. Most of the children between the age limits he wanted to see were brats to one another, which he wasn’t willing to put up with. Bless their little hearts, he couldn’t deal with someone so immature. He wanted someone who could become a good friend, a son or daughter who could call him “Papa”—someone he could trust enough to keep the secret that he was a country. He had ju