A/N: I really wanted to write this. I'm not really sure of what it is supposed to be. A series of moments between Angela and Charlotte. None of them is a drabble. I'll post here whenever I feel the desire to write something with them.

She can't believe she's holding a baby. Her baby. She's beautiful. Maybe not exceptionally, but she's just a baby. Besides, she doesn't need the most or the best. She's happy with what she has: This little creature with closed eyes and very pink skin who calmed down the moment her mother took her in her arms and took over Angela's soul from the first moment. Her mother...She talks of herself. She's Charlotte's mother. ( This will be her name. Patrick and her had chosen it before giving birth to the baby.) She is twenty years old and she's already a mother. She hopes she'll be a good one.

" Mommy loves you. She will protect you." Angela says as she kisses her daughter's forehead.

Charlotte loves drawing.

Angela loves watching Charlotte drawing.

She is so pretty when she's concentrating. She's furrowing her eyebrows and she's sticking out her tongue a little, usually on the right side. Her blond curles cover half of her face, but she doesn't pay them any attention. She's covering half of her drawing with her body, when either her or Patrick are with her. She wants it to be a surprise. Of course that they can still see the most of the drawing but they don't want to upset her so they pretend they know nothing.

She's way prettier when she shows it to the woman. Her whole body lightens up; from the eyes, to the way she's standing in front of her, expectantly. She hopes to hear praising words, even if the mother didn't always offer them. She understands almost nothing from her drawings, but she still thinks they're cute. Picasso doesn't hold a chance againist her daughter.

" What's that?"

"Our family."

"Yes, I can see that. But in your drawings, our family is bigger than in reality. There's a cat and a dog."

" Yeah, I wanted it like that. And I want a dog. Or a cat. Or both."

"Charlotte, we can't have a dog or a cat. Or both."

" Why not? We have a biiiiiig house." she says, opening her arms, as if hugging the air, to empathize. "And Daddy agrees."

"Before agreeing, has daddy heard the offer?"

Charlotte's smile vanishes.

" Well...no. But he will. And I know he'll agree. Daddy loves animals."

" Me too, but this doesn't mean I want one in my house. Animals need a lot of love and care."

" I will take care of them!" she says, whinning. " And you love me, mommy, don't you?"

Angela's face is changing, into something close to resembling sadness. She's not really mad at Charlotte - not for such a silly thing - but she wants her to know that pointing out to people that they love her is not something nice to do. Charlotte looks at her a bit scared. She doesn't like upsetting her. Not because of a big punishment or anything like this. She just has a big heart.

" My dear, you don't say things like that. People won't like it if you do that." She looks at her right for a second, then her eyes come back to Charlotte again. She comes closer to her daughter, as if telling a secret. A very secret secret, as the little girl would say.

" I will consider it, though. Mommy loves you."

Charlotte likes to help Angela when she's cleaning the house. She doesn't do much housework - she usually just makes the beds that Angela 'forgets' unmade and sorts her toys. - but the young mother appreciates every bit of help. The young one is very proud of herself. She can't wait until Patrick comes home to tell him that she's been a bee all day, as her father likes to call her. She then forgets any sort of help she was supposed to give to her mother. She doesn't really mind, though. Children's job is to play and be happy so she let's her be. Mommy loves her.

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

" What's daddy job?"

Angela turns around to face her daughter, forgetting about the dishes for a little while. Charlotte is playing with her stuffed animals. Their heads are touching lightly, as Angela has Charlotte full attention. She is calm. So she knows nothing. For better.

Angela doesn't really aprove of what he does, but he always magically makes her shut up when she brings the subject up, so she gave up.

"Why?"

"Just wondering. He's not much home."

"Well", she says, turning back to wash the dishes, "he...talks to people. He helps some of them."

" He helps people? Cool!"

"Yeah..."

For a lot of money. And by saying a lot of lies. It's not like their daughter needs to find out, though. She seems pretty excited that, apparently, her father is helping people, judging by her voice. Then she calmed down, suddenly. She seemed almost incredulous.

"Why do you stay with me?"

" I work, too. When you're sleeping."

"Oh..."

" I want to stay with you as much as possible. You're growing up fast and I don't want to miss a day."

" Why?"

"Hmm...because I'm your mommy. And mommy..."

"...loves me. I know- I know. I love you, too."

Angela smiles. Her daughter is a little too much like her father.