Dinner was early that evening and Austria resented it. There was no excuse for interrupting his piano rehearsal. Adults could eat later than 6pm and if the child needed his food sooner, there was no sense in shifting everyone else around because of it.
"But isn't it nicer if we all eat together as a family?" Hungary said. Chibitalia nodded in agreement and had a large bite of his beloved pasta. Austria refrained from pointing out the obvious. Hungary paused, perhaps testing if he would.
"Do you know who I saw at the market today?"
"Couldn't imagine."
"Poland and Lithuania," Hungary said. "I told them all about Chibitalia, and Poland said, 'Your son sounds totally cute.'"
Austria's hand froze halfway to his glass.
"You... told Poland that this child is our son?"
Hungary giggled and waved dismissively.
"Poland assumed."
"You didn't correct him."
"Why would I?"
"Because," Austria said, jumping from his chair, "Poland will tell Ukraine, and Ukraine will tell Russia, and Russia will tell China." Hungary tapped her finger against her chin.
"Hmm, perhaps," she said. "Or Lithuania might tell his brothers, and they'd tell Russia, who would tell China."
Austria raised an eyebrow. Hungary kept talking.
"Wouldn't it be funny if Switzerland had overheard?"
With a huff, Austria whirled around and marched away. Chibitalia looked up at Hungary with wide, curious eyes. He slurped in a noodle.
"Is Austria cranky again, Mama?"
"Yes, darling."
Chibitalia eyed Austria's abandoned plate.
"Can I have his pasta?"