Friday June 17th2005

A loud clatter of something hitting the floor echoed from downstairs and woke Charlotte Jane.
On exciting milestones in the year, most little girls would be up at a ridiculous hour of the morning jumping on her exhausted parent's bed.
But the Janes were not a normal family. And their daughter was no exception.

Charlotte had always loved her sleep. As a baby, her parents friends were so jealous of their baby who slept all the time – up to the point where her parents would wait impatiently by the nursery for her to wake up so they could play with her (and sometimes even 'accidentally' dropping a saucepan or coughing loudly by her door to expedite the process).

So it wasn't surprising that it was Charlotte's parents that were the ones who woke her on her fourth birthday. At least it had been accidental unlike last Christmas where they were the ones jumping on herbed excitedly at five thirty in the morning telling her to get up because it was snowing.
Together they dragged her comatose body downstairs and the photos from Christmas had her in her pyjamas looking half asleep while her parents were wide awake and bright with excitement all wrapped up in scarves, mittens and beanies cuddling her disgruntled little form.

Charlotte rolled over in her bed and nestled further into her quilt hugging her bear tightly. She could get a few more minutes sleep as her parents were busy making pancakes which is what they (attempted) to cook for her every birthday.

They must have started cooking them at 5am. There were bangs and crashes and yells, laughter cut off quickly by them shushing one another before dissolving into quiet giggles. Charlotte was at a loss as to how she had managed to sleep through all the noise beforehand and was wondering when the smoke alarm would go off.

Charlotte sighed and got out of bed and looked at her clock on the wall. She was still learning how to tell time but there was warm June sunlight pouring in from her window so she knew it was a reasonable hour at least.

She carefully put her fluffiest socks on and pulled her quilt neatly over her bed arranging her pillow and stuffed toys artistically. Her mother and father felt slightly intimidated by Charlotte's tidiness and intelligence. Their daughter made their four year old selves feel inferior. Especially since their bed sheets and clothes were all tangled up over their bedroom.

Her hesitant footsteps hit the stairs and when she took her time, she didn't need anyone to help her make her way down but she had to be quiet because Patrick would scoop her up right away upon hearing her before she could even put her hand on the banister. And she felt perfectly capable of walking down the stairs without her father. She was four now.

It was a long and tedious process and she nearly slipped twice, clinging to the banister but Charlotte finally made it downstairs and her eyes sparkled with this accomplishment she had achieved all by herself.
She walked down the hallway towards the noise and went into the kitchen.

There were her parents splattered with pancake batter and flinging the sticky stuff at each other from wooden spoons. The kitchen was a bomb site with an array of mixing bowls and spoons and fry pans and batter dripping from everywhere (a drop fell off the ceiling onto Charlotte's nose. The ceiling,for heaven's sake).

Patrick was about to launch another attack on his wife who seemed to have the upper hand in this battle when he saw Charlotte standing in the doorway rubbing her eye sleepily and then paused mid-yawn, her bright wide eyes taking in the appalling scene.

There she was. The Tadpole. Charlotte Anne Jane. The two blue lines on the pregnancy test. The flashing heartbeat on the screen. The little baby that had him wrapped around her little finger from day one.
Now his baby was four years old and walking down the stairs by herself (how had he not heard her?).

He was so mesmerised at how beautiful his adorable little girl had become that Angela took advantage of his lack of defence by flinging pancake mixture from her spoon that hit the side of his face. Charlotte was shocked (and slightly impressed) at how much mess her parents could generate from a simple task as making pancakes. It was worse than last year which had been horrific enough.

"Happy Birthday baby," Angela said brightly kissing the batter off her nose and trying to take Charlotte in her arms. Charlotte squirmed away not wanting her batter-covered mother to hug her until she was cleaned up. These were her favourite princess pyjamas.

This resulted in amusement for Patrick and Angela as they chased Charlotte around the house for cuddles as she kept yelling; "Mummy, Daddy! This is not funny," as her little legs ran. She ended up locking and barricading herself in the linen closet.

Patrick managed to coax her out eventually after saying that they wouldn't hug her until they changed.
"Promise?" she said seriously from in the closet, holding her pinky finger up and curling it, knowing that her father would be doing the same thing outside.
"Promise," he said sincerely. This was enough for Charlotte because her dad never broke his promises.

She had the immense pleasure of hosing off her messy parents on the balcony with the garden hose as a form of revenge and so their reign of destruction could be limited to one area of the house.

After her parents had changed, Charlotte opened her presents and her first ever bike. She knew that she was getting a bike but put on her best surprised face. She knew because she had fallen asleep to the familiar sound of her parent's laughter as they tried to assemble it and then wrapped the difficult item using five different kinds of coloured paper.
They don't need to wrap it,she had thought in bed the night before as she listened to them. But why spoil their fun?

The morning consisted of Charlotte enduring countless photos and many hugs and kisses, Angela drove to McDonalds to get pancakes (their ones hadn't turned out).
"I promise they'll turn out next year," Patrick said gently brushing the knots from Charlotte's long golden hair. Charlotte nodded because she could always trust her father's promises.

But that was the first promise to his daughter that Patrick Jane ever broke because he wouldn't spend Charlotte's fifth birthday flinging pancake mixture at his lovely angel as they tried to be quiet as not to wake their sleeping princess.

He would spend it alone in a hospital with a big red smiley face.

I'm sorry. Please don't kick us out of the fandom.