"Susan!"

At the sound of Peter's voice Helen turned from what she was doing, glancing at her son's small pudgy form. He stood legs braced, and eyes narrowed with his round little fists planted firmly on his hips. On the floor in front of him was Susan, only just learning to sit, gazing up at her brother with sparkling, baby blue eyes. In her mouth was one of Peter's toys, a small, wooden soldier that John's father had given him during their last visit.

"Oh dear." Said Helen, a slightly amused tone to her voice.

As much as Peter loved his baby sister, it was just too much for him to share his prized soldier with her, he'd been guarding it closely since the day he'd received it. Helen wondered how Susan had even managed to find it, as Peter usually kept it tucked away in the nursery where the children slept.

Peter wasn't quite three years old yet, and although normally timid and shy, when it came to his precious soldier there was nothing he wouldn't do for it. Helen stopped for a moment, wondering if she should step in or let Peter handle it himself. Maybe she could give him a push in the right direction.

"Peter dear, what's the matter?"

Peter's face looked slightly relieved as Helen stopped alongside him, as if he knew all cause for worry was past.

"Baby took my toy! It in her mouth!"

Helen nodded sympathetically, using all her will power to control the urge to laugh as Peter's wide, blue eyes gazed back at her, full of the utmost seriousness. It was almost more than she could bear, the sound of his little voice threatening to send her into stitches. Putting on her most solemn face, Helen addressed her son.

"Yes, well that's no good now is it? What do you think we should do about this Peter?"

Peter contemplated this for a moment, placing his right thumb and forefinger on his chin as he had so often seen adults do, squinting in concentration.

"Could make 'er give it back?" Peter said slowly, his eyes searching his mother's face, hoping his answer had been correct.

"Yes darling, we could make her give it back, but how about if first, we ask her to give it back."

Peter nodded thoughtfully, as if sensing the wisdom in his mother's words.

"Alright Mummy."

Helen nodded her encouragement as Peter took his hands off his hips and knelt down next to his baby sister.

"Go ahead!" She said with a smile, nodding towards Susan.

The little girl herself had been silent throughout the extent of the conversation between her mother and brother, but now looked up at Peter, drool dribbling from her chin and giggled softly, waving the wooden soldier around in the air.

Peter, momentarily distracted with worry for his little toy, turned back to face his sister, his face grave.

"Susie, will you give back Dobby?"

Helen smiled at his use of the name Susan had given the toy several days before, turning to the baby on the floor. Both she and Peter watched as Susan stared blankly back at her brother, completely unaware of his request.

Peter turned to face his mother, his lips parted and his eye brows knit together as if to say "I said it nicely!"

Helen nodded back to Susan. "Try again Peter, maybe this time it'll work."

Helen was beginning to doubt it would, weren't all children supposed to respond when asked civilly? Helen was beginning to wonder if she knew anything about parenting at all. One moment, she was confidant and self assured, the next, she was doubting everything she'd ever been taught.

"Please Susie!" Said Peter a second time, even going so far as to extend his hand for the toy.

Susan proved not to be won over so easily. As if she'd never heard a word Peter had said, she put the toy back into her mouth and began gnawing on it.

Peter's eyes grew wide with panic. "Mummy! She eating Dobby!"

Helen reached for Susan's arm only to be met by a shrill scream from the little girl. Hey eyes darted back to Peter, his face pleading with her to do something.

"Well, she is just a baby, maybe she didn't understand you?" Her voice sounding skeptical and unsure.

Bending over, Helen scooped up Susan, now content as no one was attempting to remove the wooden toy from her grasp.

"Susie, give Mummy the toy." Helen tried to sound confidant and firm, but her voice came out a bit shy of ideal.

Susan blinked slowly, showing no signs of giving up her newfound treasure. Helen was beginning to grow upset.

"Susie darling, please."

Still no effect, Susan continued to stare blankly back at her, with not even an idea of what was the matter.

Helen didn't want to do it, but she had no choice. Masking her uncertainty, Helen once again replaced her confused face with one that was surer of itself; looking directly into her daughters eyes, Helen acted.

"Susie, this is your brother's toy, it belongs to him, so I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to take it from you."

Placing her hand over Susan's small ones, Helen began to attempting to pry the baby's fingers from around the toy. Instantly, a loud wailing filled the room. All confidence was now drained from her, but Helen continued to work Susan's tiny fingers from around the soldier.

The wailing grew louder and Helen was no more desperate than ever to end the incessant wailing. Her gaze landed on Peter for just a moment, his eyes squeezed shut and his chubby hands over his ears. At least she wasn't the only one who disliked the noise.

"Susan please! Give me the toy!" Helen winced inwardly, she hadn't meant to shout.

Finally, after several minutes of agony, Susan relented and within moments the toy was once again safe in Peter's arms. After proclaiming his thanks and appreciation Peter rushed away to hide Dobby in a safer place.

Helen sat defeated on the sofa, Susan, now occupied with a rattle, cooing contentedly in her lap. Helen held the baby up, smiling tiredly as Susan locked her little knees and stood shakily in Helen's lap, one hand batting at her mother's gentle hand around Susan's middle.

"Oh you, what am I going to do with you?"

Susan giggled happily in response. Helen sighed, bouncing Susan slightly.

"Oh the predictions of parenthood, it'll be simple and precise." Said Helen, a tinge of sarcasm in her voice as Susan began babbling nonsense.

"Well, I have some news you darling, predictions are almost always wrong."