um i don't know much about omi so here is a iroh and boji thing!
“I’m bad at this,” Iroh sighs, handing the crying child to his grandfather and falling backwards into his seat. He’d sworn he would have been okay for the morning, at least until Omara was back and could comfort their son, but Boji seemed irritable of a brand new variety, and it had given Iroh enough distress for him to seek out his grandfather.
The retired Fire Lord laughs quietly, taking the squirming little boy into his hands carefully, and all he has to do is tilt him back into the crook of his soft robes and comforting arms, and it only takes a few seconds of rocking back and forth before he’s finally hushed sufficiently, staring up at his great-grandfather with curious green eyes. Boji snatches some of his red fabric and lifts it to his mouth—Iroh has taken to tugging a lot of things out of Boji’s mouth, lately, but Zuko doesn’t move, and Iroh only looks on in confusion.
“Iroh,” Zuko starts in a gravelly, yet light voice, “how old is Boji?” His lips are lifted in a reluctant smile that makes him want to avoid answering the question, but he offers a crisp ‘eight months old’ in reply, and Zuko chuckles for a few moments. “Your mother should have told you better, young man,” he insisted, prying Boji loose from his robes and offering the child back to his father.
“He’s teething,” he says with a wide grin, and Iroh feels every single moment where he’d tugged items loose from his son’s grinding jaws flash in front of his eyes, “he needs something to chew on, a teething ring.” Boji shifts uncomfortably in Iroh’s arms, but he wraps his arms around Iroh’s hand and pulls his fingers down to his tiny mouth.
Zuko laughs, again, and if Iroh’s hands hadn’t been tied up, he’d pressed his palm against his face.