Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm only borrowing for a
bit.
~*~
Colin felt more than heard the rumble of the truck's engine when it returned.
He could just make out the white side of the truck when the front door swung open, and their father walked through the door. Colin yawned and sat up from the couch in the sitting room.
"Dad, Dad!" exclaimed Dennis, shedding blankets as he jumped off the couch to give their father a hug.
"'Morning, half-pint," their father said with a smile as he ruffled his younger son's hair.
"How was deliveries?" Colin asked sleepily as their father sat down between them on the couch and put his uniform-clad arms around their shoulders. Colin loved that his father wore a uniform. It was light blue and looked nice and official, not scary, not silly. Never mind that it was really a milkman's uniform. Greeting him home from work on summer mornings, Colin could imagine that his father was a soldier returning home from war.
"Oh, they went well enough," Mr. Creevey answered. Colin just let his brother's voice flow over him as Dennis said, "Did you know that this morning, old Daisy actually managed to open up one of Mrs. Lewis's bottles of milk. The old cat's been trying to do that forever, and she finally did, and Mrs. Lewis thought her cat was so clever, she didn't even scold her!"
Dennis smiled at his dad in a way that only an undersized nine-year- old could. "I bet our cat would be that smart, if we had one. I bet it would do great tricks, too."
"I'm sure it would be."
"I wish we could have a cat, Dad..." Dennis whined.
"You know Mum's allergic, Dennis. Maybe a dog when you're older."
"I know, I know."
Dennis sighed and buried his face in a cushion. "I hate being so little. Everyone thinks I'm only seven. It'll be awful at school."
Colin didn't think that his brother was any smaller than he'd been at that age. Still, they'd just moved this summer. He was going to be eleven soon, starting a new schoolyear. He'd bought a camera so he could remember his old friends in the midst of all the new things here. Anyway, photography was very exciting. It told a story, too.
"Well," said their father, "you do know how to grow up tall, don't you?"
"Drink milk!" both boys exclaimed with a grin, and began laughing. Their father wasn't very tall, either, but he always told them he hadn't had enough milk as a boy.
"You know, it's not your height that matters, boys. It's the size of what's in here." He tapped a finger against his chest. "Act like you're the biggest, bravest boys at school, and others will listen to what you have to say. Just be yourselves."
Colin smiled. His dad was the best milkman.
"But... what if that doesn't work?" asked Dennis shyly.
"Well, try to find someone else who isn't too tall or too big, but still has people listening to him. Try to be friends with him, and maybe you'll learn how it is that even we scrawny men do pretty well for ourselves in the end."
His father smiled, taking the self-rebuke from his comment.
Colin grew thoughtful at that... Could he really meet someone like him at school? Someone small- but who could stand up for himself? Maybe even someone like his father when he was a boy...
"You boys have always been special. You'll do just fine."
Just then, Dennis's stomach rumbled.
"Dad, is there any chocolate milk left over?"
Colin perked up; this was their favorite part of the morning, getting a bit of chocolate milk some days.
"No, I'm sorry, boys. Maybe I'll just buy some tomorrow morning, how does that sound?"
Dennis sighed. Oh dear, thought Colin, it might be a scene. People treated Dennis as a little boy because he still looked it. Colin thought he was awfully spoiled sometimes.
He thought very hard about chocolate milk... hadn't he seen just a little bit more than usual in the truck today? The more he thought of it, the more certain he became.
"Dad, won't you check the truck again?"
"Well, Colin, I'm sure there wasn't any leftover chocolate milk today..."
"No, I'm really sure it could be there. Please, please check?"
Indulgently, Mr. Creevey stood and went back out to the truck.
"Don't worry about it, Dennis, there's always tomorrow," Colin comforted his brother. "Anyway, I bet there will be some today."
A minute later, their dad walked back through the front door carrying a brown glassy bottle.
"I double-checked my delivery sheet," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sure that I delivered everybody's today, but here it is." He looked to Colin with a mystified expression. "Are you sure you don't sneak these bottles into the truck when I'm not looking?"
"No," Colin said, happy but feeling a bit sorry for his dad, who must be getting a little old. Sometimes he just knew that there ought to be chocolate milk back there, and there always was.
Their dad went into the kitchen and brought three glasses full of the sweet drink back.
"Here's to growing up," he toasted, and the milk was good.
~*~
Colin felt more than heard the rumble of the truck's engine when it returned.
He could just make out the white side of the truck when the front door swung open, and their father walked through the door. Colin yawned and sat up from the couch in the sitting room.
"Dad, Dad!" exclaimed Dennis, shedding blankets as he jumped off the couch to give their father a hug.
"'Morning, half-pint," their father said with a smile as he ruffled his younger son's hair.
"How was deliveries?" Colin asked sleepily as their father sat down between them on the couch and put his uniform-clad arms around their shoulders. Colin loved that his father wore a uniform. It was light blue and looked nice and official, not scary, not silly. Never mind that it was really a milkman's uniform. Greeting him home from work on summer mornings, Colin could imagine that his father was a soldier returning home from war.
"Oh, they went well enough," Mr. Creevey answered. Colin just let his brother's voice flow over him as Dennis said, "Did you know that this morning, old Daisy actually managed to open up one of Mrs. Lewis's bottles of milk. The old cat's been trying to do that forever, and she finally did, and Mrs. Lewis thought her cat was so clever, she didn't even scold her!"
Dennis smiled at his dad in a way that only an undersized nine-year- old could. "I bet our cat would be that smart, if we had one. I bet it would do great tricks, too."
"I'm sure it would be."
"I wish we could have a cat, Dad..." Dennis whined.
"You know Mum's allergic, Dennis. Maybe a dog when you're older."
"I know, I know."
Dennis sighed and buried his face in a cushion. "I hate being so little. Everyone thinks I'm only seven. It'll be awful at school."
Colin didn't think that his brother was any smaller than he'd been at that age. Still, they'd just moved this summer. He was going to be eleven soon, starting a new schoolyear. He'd bought a camera so he could remember his old friends in the midst of all the new things here. Anyway, photography was very exciting. It told a story, too.
"Well," said their father, "you do know how to grow up tall, don't you?"
"Drink milk!" both boys exclaimed with a grin, and began laughing. Their father wasn't very tall, either, but he always told them he hadn't had enough milk as a boy.
"You know, it's not your height that matters, boys. It's the size of what's in here." He tapped a finger against his chest. "Act like you're the biggest, bravest boys at school, and others will listen to what you have to say. Just be yourselves."
Colin smiled. His dad was the best milkman.
"But... what if that doesn't work?" asked Dennis shyly.
"Well, try to find someone else who isn't too tall or too big, but still has people listening to him. Try to be friends with him, and maybe you'll learn how it is that even we scrawny men do pretty well for ourselves in the end."
His father smiled, taking the self-rebuke from his comment.
Colin grew thoughtful at that... Could he really meet someone like him at school? Someone small- but who could stand up for himself? Maybe even someone like his father when he was a boy...
"You boys have always been special. You'll do just fine."
Just then, Dennis's stomach rumbled.
"Dad, is there any chocolate milk left over?"
Colin perked up; this was their favorite part of the morning, getting a bit of chocolate milk some days.
"No, I'm sorry, boys. Maybe I'll just buy some tomorrow morning, how does that sound?"
Dennis sighed. Oh dear, thought Colin, it might be a scene. People treated Dennis as a little boy because he still looked it. Colin thought he was awfully spoiled sometimes.
He thought very hard about chocolate milk... hadn't he seen just a little bit more than usual in the truck today? The more he thought of it, the more certain he became.
"Dad, won't you check the truck again?"
"Well, Colin, I'm sure there wasn't any leftover chocolate milk today..."
"No, I'm really sure it could be there. Please, please check?"
Indulgently, Mr. Creevey stood and went back out to the truck.
"Don't worry about it, Dennis, there's always tomorrow," Colin comforted his brother. "Anyway, I bet there will be some today."
A minute later, their dad walked back through the front door carrying a brown glassy bottle.
"I double-checked my delivery sheet," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sure that I delivered everybody's today, but here it is." He looked to Colin with a mystified expression. "Are you sure you don't sneak these bottles into the truck when I'm not looking?"
"No," Colin said, happy but feeling a bit sorry for his dad, who must be getting a little old. Sometimes he just knew that there ought to be chocolate milk back there, and there always was.
Their dad went into the kitchen and brought three glasses full of the sweet drink back.
"Here's to growing up," he toasted, and the milk was good.