Life in Stages
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At birth he was a monster. At six, he was a lonely little kid. At twelve, a raging homicide, bested by a raving one. At fifteen he was a martyr to the people who had created him and hoped he would die. At eighteen, he was just a man. Now at twenty-three, Gaara was father to five-year old twins who refused to eat his cooking. (Secretly nobody could really blame them. Gaara prepared healthy meals, but in a stark trade-off for agreeable flavor.)
Today the challenge was a soup of no particular name, full of rice and leafy greens and tomatoes and chicken and spices, as well as soy sauce and eggs and peach chunks and broccoli and, possibly, blueberries. (Gaara opined that everything wound up in the stomach as nutritional mush; so while pleasing flavor was nice, it wasn't terribly important. Many people disagreed.) The twins wanted sugar, and their father would have none of it. Without sugar, they refused to eat anything.
This was a stalemate going on four minutes.
At six minutes, as the twins shifted in their seats and their stomachs gave rumbling mews of protest, Gaara conceded to a compromise: one plate of mochi ice cream for two bowls of soup. The twins were five, and hungry, so they agreed. The soup was consumed, and they earned their ice cream -- but not for a few days, because Gaara hadn't said when, and the twins were full from soup besides.
So it was that after a grueling day of training (for five-year olds) they stopped at a sweet shop with their father. The twins got mochi ice cream, with honey; Gaara got to watch his children smile.
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Author: jagter se maan
AIM: TS chatterfox
Status: Complete
Note: Connection to My Weak Link?