Flecks of grass caught in the carriage wheels as they spun along the fledgling nation's excuse for a road. It wasn't that no one cared enough to build a proper road. It was just hard to decide where best to put one, seeing as Canada had relatively few visitors spread out over a lot of space.

Inside the carriage, little Alfred bounced up and down on the seat cushion. The momentum of the carriage urged him onward while every bump they rolled over sent him popping out of his seat. He had passed time on the long journey by making a game of it, purposefully jumping and letting the carriage's shifting balance fling him along.

Under normal circumstances, Arthur would have insisted he sit still, but after spending so long in close quarters with the youngster, he was simply glad that he was entertained. Relishing these relatively peaceful moments, Arthur caught up on some sleep. He had no way of knowing when he'd be interrupted once again by a barrage of "I'm bored" and "are we there yet?"

Young Alfred was growing up quickly, becoming more and more of a handful each day. Sometimes, Arthur was concerned his son would grow up and leave him someday, but other times, Arthur felt that that day could not come soon enough.

"It's my birthday! It's my birthday! It's my birthday! It's my birthday!"

Arthur opened one eye and saw Alfred standing on the seat beside him, grinning from ear to ear.

"It's my birthday, right, Arthur?" Alfred chirped.

"Not yet," Arthur replied. "And call me Father. Or Daddy. Or Dad."

"Okay," said Alfred, resuming his jumping. Arthur shut his eyes again and tried to go back to sleep.

"Hey, Arthur?"

Arthur gave a subtle grunt of annoyance.

"Yes?"

"Are we there yet?"

"No. Why don't you go to sleep?"

"Not tired!" Alfred shouted. He added a chant to his jumping routine: "It's my birthday! Are we there yet? It's my birthday! Are we there yet?"

For the seventh time that day, Arthur's mind went to the bottle of whiskey he'd packed with him. There probably wasn't enough in there for him to get drunk enough to tolerate Alfred. Of course, if he gave a little bit to Alfred, that might quiet him down.

"Which is something I'd never do, of course," Arthur mumbled. The carriage lurched, sending Alfred flying. Arthur stumbled forward a little, and caught his balance on the door handle. One second later, Arthur realized that the carriage had come to a halt. He leaned out the window and caught the driver's attention.

"Are we there yet?" Arthur asked the driver, and instantly wished he'd chosen different wording. The driver tipped his hat in Arthur's direction.

"Yessir," he replied. "Shall I begin unloading your things?"

"Thank you," Arthur said, nodding curtly. He ducked back inside the carriage to let Alfred know that they had finally reached their destination. Little Alfred was asleep.