When Quanin returned home from an unusually long council meeting, he found that Temre was not in her study like she usually was. Instead, he heard her in the back of the bedroom, reciting some of her old sonnets from the chapter of her life that she had time to write them. He discovered her in the water chamber, with Krang in the bath. It seemed like he was trying to keep up with her, managing only to babble clumsily behind her words. Quanin watched for a moment, taking in the scene, before announcing himself.
"Got into your old books again, then?" He asked. Temre stopped and glanced around to see him.
"Look Krang, father's home!" She turned her attention back to the little pink blob in his bath water. "Da!" He squawked gleefully.
"He's been chattering all day." Temre grinned. "I tried to write down everything he said, but I simply couldn't keep up."
Quanin beamed, listening to his boy continue to babble on, though unable to make out a single word. Then he cleared his throat.

"Didn't we hire Yera for that?" He asked, gesturing to the little tub.
"You know Krang won't let her bathe him. Besides, she's got enough trouble as it is; Ch'rell's colic came back." Temre dripped some water onto her son's scalp. "Besides, it's just something to get him warm and tired before his you-know-what."
"You mean his na--" Quanin stopped himself; it had taken him a moment to fully register what he meant.
"Yes, of course that." Temre let Krang splash the water a little bit.
"Now, would you pass me a towel? He was so excited to get into the water that I couldn't quite get to one."
"Of course, my dear." Quanin obliged, stepping his walker in from the doorway of the water chamber and pulling a towel from a rack.
He passed it too her, just as Krang was noticing it with a scowl. "No." He huffed and pouted.

"Now, now," Temre unfolded the towel and prepared to scoop him out.
To Quanin's surprise, she started to divulge poetry out of the air; it had been a long time since she had last done it.
"The water will chill, and you will get cold. But come out, and you'll be warm with crop* to take."
Quanin smirked as Krang's expression changed from unconvinced to uncertain in only a brisk second.
"Don't you think he's getting a little too old?" He asked as Krang relinquished himself to be lifted out into the towel.
"He's even growing a tooth..."
Temre bundled Krang into the towel. "Oh, hush. It helps him with teething and gets him to sleep." She laughed as he pushed himself down until only his large blue eyes were visible. "Boo." He mumbled.
"Now, I...won't need my walker quite yet..." She mumbled started to crawl out to the bedroom.
"You'll have to cut him off sometime soon." Quanin followed her out. "I'm working on that, but I'd like a little time. There's a chance he could be the only one, after all..." Temre took a small step stool to climb onto her bed. "This isn't like Obligato and his wife, their time was nearly up when they had Xeinos - and she's broken in more teeth in now than what Krang has." Quanin retorted.
Temre loosened the towel up. "Nalmar is also a Primalist*, Xeinos won't cut off until her first tooth falls." She scoffed.
Quanin approached and perched with her at the edge of the bed by Krang's nest of blankets - which had not been in use until recently. He normally spent his nights snug against his mother's skin.
"Hmm...that is true." He mused.

"Speaking of Obligato and his family..." He cleared his vocal chords. "He has agreed to teach Krang privately - as well as Ch`rell and Xeinos. I've ensured him a brilliant teacher--and friends." He reached to touch Krang as he spilled out of the towel to reach the stubs beneath against his mother's crop pouch. "No, Da." Krang murmured, pushing against him. Quanin smirked and pulled back, giving his son his desired space, and watched instead. The baby seemed to be focusing his latch on one side - where his first tooth was breaking. "I'm amazed you can keep yourself together that much." He chuckled at Temre's grimace. "It's -- it's not like it'll leave a mark, Quanin." She choked. "I'll be fine." She forced a smile and looked down at her son, now half-dazed and staring up at her - or the ceiling; he was unfocused. For a few heartbeats of time, she was silent, and then pulled another of her sonnets from her mind, lulling Krang's stupor further until he closed his eyes and slowly pulled off her skin. "There..." She softly planted him into the nest and folded a part of it around him. "Now...could you prepare some ice for me?" She requested sheepishly.
Quanin smirked. "Of course."

* "Crop" is basically milk, but not really.

* A Primalist is basically the Utrom version of a hippie. In the sense of "all natural everything, weird and suspicious plants drying from the ceiling, favoring nature over industry, etc" and that includes nursing children outside of society's favor and more toward what is "primal", which is way beyond what is acceptable in industrial worlds. In Temre's case it's just more for convenience in preventing teething fits and making the path to naptime a little easier. Though, this is probably 'normal' to them.

This is just a small snapshot of Krang's parents during his infancy. The art is redone from an older version, as well as the text to suit new information. There used to be a cradle, but I realized it wouldn't make much sense considering how tiny and needy Utrom infants would be.