Sir Ebrum

I look at my children, and I can't help but worry.

I shouldn't, I know. Both Tiff and Tuff have been in more dangerous situations than I will ever even know. They've rubbed shoulders with some of the deadliest creatures in the galaxy, fought back to back with the greatest warriors alive. They've more than proved their ability to take care of themselves.

But I'm their father. I can't help but worry. That's what fathers do, even when their children play games with a star warrior and crush monsters on a daily basis. Come to think of it, ESPECIALLY when they do that.

Sometimes I tell myself I'm a terrible father not to be there when danger threatens, but then I always realize that that's impossible. The only way I could do that would be if I followed them around all day.

Even if I could it wouldn't help. When Tiff was kidnapped I was standing right there, and yet I couldn't do anything. It happened too fast for anyone to react, least of all me. How do you fight things you don't even understand? How do you fight a war that has passed you by? It's a new age, with new technology. Monsters appear out of air, spaceships rise from the ground, and robotic arms pop out of cars and seize your only daughter before you even know it.

I can't fight alongside my children. This war is beyond me. The only reason I'm a knight is to give the Cappies some pretense of representation at the castle. I've know nothing of Star Warriors, or ninjas, or NME, or any of the half-dozen words my little girl goes around babbling. I can't even comprehend the dangers they face. The Great Wars passed Popstar by. I grew up in a dreamland, untainted by war or suffering. My only enemy was the King, and my only evil was to lie about my cooking abilities.

Now my children battle dragons and fiery wolves and giant caterpillars. I'm their father. I'm supposed to shield them, provide strength for them, lift them up when they're too short to reach. And I can't, because the things they're in are too big for me already.

What do I do?

Part of me wants to reach out and grab them, lock them up so they can't rush madly out. Keep them from going into things I can't help them in. But I can't do that. It wouldn't be fair to them, to hold them back from adventures they know how to handle. I'm proud of my children, how they've gone so far. They're already far greater than I ever was. I shouldn't try to bottle that up, but rather nurture it and let it grow. Help them to become the greatest they can be.

So what do I do? The only thing I can. I pretend like I don't see.

My children are brave, strong, and clever; but sometimes I think the reason they keep such a level head is because they don't realize the danger around them. To them, it's just a happy game, a little field trip to go off on. And that's because I act like it is. When everything's done and all the monster's dead, my children need an anchor to reality, a safe and sound haven amidst the nightmare. I can still provide that. It doesn't make sense, I know, but my children feel safe because I act like there's no danger.

I've heard that the best way to handle a dangerous thing is to treat it with a touch of humor. For many years I've handled the king that way. Now it's how I handle daily life. My children feel no fear because I pretend I'm not worried.

Lucy feels the same. She realizes the same dangers I do and reacts the same way. The two of us do our best to give our children a happy childhood, and we trust Metaknight to give them a safe one.

So we pretend to be incredibly stupid. We act like we don't see everything around the castle. We remark on the strange flames coming from the hill where our children are playing. We stand by the window and talk about how the worst is over while our children slip out the door to fight the enemy… again.

And we welcome them back after the fight. We bandage their wounds and talk about how rough children's games are these days. We listen to Tuff's account of the day and laugh at the appropriate points. We nod as we hear Tiff's eternal complaints about the king and his tricks. We feed Kirby and pat him on the head.

And after we put them to bed, we hold each other and whisper reassuring words to each other about how the children can handle themselves. We step out onto the balcony and talk with Metaknight about the battle and ask him again to watch out for our babies.

Because we're their parents. And whenever we look at our children…we can't help but worry.