January 2nd, 1994
"Hi, Pwetty Boy!"
Glancing down at Leonard, the bright green canary couldn't keep a tiny grin off of his beak. Ever since the recently-hatched Pretty Boy had joined the Helperman household, their chubby, pale, 3-year-old son had shown him nothing but kindness. Like Mrs. Helperman, the child was shaping up to be of the compassionate sort, though he seemed a bit more reserved than the lady in question.
The "DING-DONG" of the doorbell drew little Leonard's attention away from the birdcage. Tripping over his own small feet, the boy ran to the kitchen, where his father had just returned from work.
"Hi, Daddy!"
Byron Helperman looked down with a start; Leonard had wrapped himself around his father's long legs.
"Oh...hello, Leonard."
He awkwardly patted his son's ginger hair.
In the background, Pretty Boy tilted his head to the side, his brows knotting. The canary didn't miss a trick around his new home.
He had watched Mrs. Helperman—an enthusiastic, sweet woman—lavish her love on her little bundle of joy.
He had watched Mr. Helperman pace late at night, wring his hands and ask himself "am I ready to raise a child? Why did I rush into this? Should I tell Mary Lou?"
Pretty Boy saw it all. And what he saw worried him.
Mrs. H didn't seem notice anything; she was too overjoyed with Leonard. Unfortunately, this attitude kept her from seeing the doubt in her husband's eyes.
And the canary's concerns remained unaddressed.