Angela was cold. Her window was cracked, the result of a poorly bowled ball during a neighborhood game of cricket that afternoon. Tonight, the wind had risen up, and now the window rattled and leaked cold air into the room. Clasping Piglet, her constant companion, she climbed down from her bed and padded down the hallway to her parent's bedroom. Quietly, she opened the door. She was glad the door wasn't locked tonight. Her parents faced away from the door, and Daddy was hugging Mummy up against him. Tiptoeing around to her mother's side of the bed, she rested her elbows on the mattress, watching her mother. After a moment, Mummy startled awake.
"Angela!" Mummy gasped. "Oh, you gave me a turn!"
"Mmrrr," Daddy grumbled.
"Sorry, Mummy. Can I stay with you tonight?" she asked.
Mummy touched Angela's cheek and pushed the tousled hair from her eyes. "Angel girl, you know you're supposed to stay in your own bed all night. You're a big girl, now."
Angela's whisper grew quite loud, like a hushed roar. "I know, but it's cold in my room and the window's trying to frighten me."
"The window is trying to what? Oh, the wind."
Daddy grumbled again and Mummy looked back at him. "Patrick, dearest, could you go-"
"I know," he groused. "Go check the window." He threw the covers off and got out of the bed.
"Thank you, Daddy," Angela sang.
"Shh, darling. Oh, your hands are freezing. Come under the covers while we wait for Daddy."
Angela happily climbed under the covers. Once she was there, she knew, Mummy would let her stay. They just had to convince Daddy.
He returned a moment later, and looked down at his girls cuddled up together. "Oh, all right. Make room for me."
Getting settled was always a giggly affair. Poor Mummy was always trapped in the middle, and Daddy claimed that Mummy had to move up close to him, as there was no room. Angela thought Daddy was silly. There was lots of room on her side for Mummy. But Mummy didn't complain, and Angela didn't want to give them any reason to send her back to her own room tonight.
"Mummy, you're so warm," she cooed.
"Her feet aren't," Daddy complained.
She stretched way down under the covers. "Ooh, Mummy. Your feet are cold! Oh, how can you bear it?" she worried.
"Don't worry, Angela. Daddy knows how to fix that. Now go to sleep," her father ordered, sleepily.
In the kitchen the next morning, Mummy and Daddy were talking about the window when Angela came downstairs.
"I am perfectly capable of replacing a window, Shelagh. There's no need to call Fred to do it." Daddy was grumpy.
Mummy put Angela's breakfast in front of her. "Eat your eggs and soldiers, angel girl." She placed a kiss on the top of her daughter's head, and tapped Timmy's nose with her knuckle.
Mummy turned to Daddy. "Of course you are, dear. But you're so busy, let's just have Fred in to take care of it. I'm sure he can fix it up in a jiffy. Then you won't have to worry about anything."
Timothy snickered.
"What are you smirking about?" Daddy asked Timmy.
"You. You always think you're think you're going to fix something around here, but you never do. We always get Fred."
"Uh-huh, Timmy," Angela interrupted. "Daddy can too fix things. You think you know everything. You're just a teenager."
Mummy and Daddy tried to cover up their laughter.
"Really?" Tim demanded. "Name one thing Dad can fix around this house."
"Mummy's feet," Angela announced proudly.
"What?" Tim asked, astounded.
Mummy and Daddy turned to Angela, confused.
"Daddy said when Mummy's feet are cold, only he can warm them. So there."
Timothy glared at his parents. "Can't you just get socks, like normal parents?"