John Umland
July 08, 2020 3:02 PM
Tea Parties, Political Parties, and Future Dragon Slayers. by John Umland
The baby, John thought privately, was no less crumpled and alien-looking than Creature had been at birth, but this time, after observing Creature for four years, he was armed with the knowledge that this condition would pass. This knowledge made it much easier to lie to Julian about the baby’s relative attractiveness, and prevented anxiety about the lack of any signs of intelligence in the miniature expression of the being inside the bundle of blankets his sister was holding. He made a mental note to keep notes on the process – it would be interesting to see how this one’s progress compared to Cecily’s, as this specimen had turned out to be male.“His name’s George,” said Julian, before glancing over at Joe. “Unless you mind?”
Joe looked extremely confused for a few seconds, presumably having forgotten his own middle name, before comprehension dawned. “No, go ahead,” he said, still sounding surprised, but also slightly pleased.
“Good,” said Julian vaguely, looking back down at her son. “I just thought he looked like a George.”
John stuck his hands out, and though Julian looked slightly surprised by this display of interest (she had shoved Cecily at him, four years previous, apparently amused by his visible horror at being forced to take responsibility, however temporarily, for not breaking the baby), she passed the bundle to him without complaint. The contents of said bundle made a grumbly sort of sound, but did not start screaming, which John thought was very sporting of him. He squinted at his nephew as the infant’s tiny, blue-black eyes seemed to try to focus on him in turn.
“George, eh?” he said. “Going to be a dragon slayer, are you?”
“I hope not,” said William’s voice from the doorway. “That’s rarely legal these days, and it’d be a shame to have to have my own son arrested.”
William smiled, seemingly involuntarily, as he said the words ‘my son,’ looking almost pleased with himself, as though he had done something noteworthy to produce the creature. He also reached for the baby, something John rarely remembered his brother-in-law ever doing with Cecily when she was tiny. He handed over the infant but frowned slightly as he did so.
“Arresting illegal dragon-slayers is a little outside your department, isn’t it?” he asked.
William seemed unperturbed. “Today, maybe – but in a few years…”
“William’s decided he’s going to be Minister by the time the kids go to school,” chimed in John’s oldest brother, Stephen. “Offer six or seven toasts and he’ll tell you his whole five-year plan.”
“I’m apparently allowed to pick which department I want,” added Joe with amusement. “Got it narrowed down to MLE or International Cooperation – you want Magical Creatures, John?”
“No,” said John. “Haven’t got time to waste on politics.”
William and Joe both looked displeased with that remark, but before either could respond, John was distracted by something tugging on him. Looking down, he found a very grumpy-looking Cecily Welles.
“Hello, Creature,” he said.
Cecily glanced back in the direction of her father and brother and began to look more grumpy still, then resumed tugging, her eyebrows drawing close together in concentration as though she thought she might actually be able to move someone twice her height, if she put her mind enough to it. John approved of the ambition and determination; it boded well for her future, assuming she combined it with a reasonable faculty for learning.
“C’mon,” she commanded imperiously, giving either William, George, or both another dirty look. Bemused, he allowed himself to be hauled away. “I want a tea party,” she announced, almost before the door closed behind her.
“You don’t want to invite Mommy, or the other uncles?” he asked.
“No. I’m mad at Mommy.”
“What did she do?” asked John.
“I’m mad at Mommy,” repeated Cecily, dragging him toward the stairs, apparently aiming for the dining hall. Cecily took her own meals in her nursery or in the little solarium Julian had converted into the family dining room, but she had a fascination with the great room that her mother held court in every month – or at least with the tendency the geezers coming to pay their rents and make their complaints had to bring her candies. Or possibly just with attention in general, as she went straight to her mother’s chair.
“Now I’m Mommy,” she announced, plopping down in it, though her eyes hardly rose above the tabletop once she sat there. John discreetly placed the slightest touch of a stretching charm on the legs of the chair to make it boost her up to a better position. “And I want tea party. You make me a tea party.” John shrugged and conjured a basic tea set, resigning himself to playing tea party until Cecily got bored. She had demanded they have tea parties often enough, after all, that it never occurred to him this behavior might be in any way significant until his mother actually spelled it out for him later – that apparently, jealous of her brother, Creature had decided to latch onto him as an adult she could rely on to pay attention to her instead of the baby.
Mom, for her part, seemed to think this was normal behavior. John, for his part, was concerned by the prospect of a four-year-old being bright enough to think through adults that way, but had to concede that children and their brains were largely mysterious to him and perhaps he had simply been an unusually slow one, at least in that kind of area. He had yet to figure out how to get a read on people very reliably, after all, and he was long past age four; he did hope, though, that this didn't mean Cecily was going to be all emotional intelligence and no academics, as he felt it would be rather a waste of potential if all she did with her life was interact with other people.
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John Umland
Tea Parties, Political Parties, and Future Dragon Slayers.
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