If you follow me on tumblr, you'll know I'm doing some maternity meme, so this is part of it. The rest which does not feature Ethan and Tristan are posted on The Ballad.

Childrearing: "So what's more exciting? The poopie Picassos at 3am or the green bean Van Goghs at dinner?

This is like the first time I heard the phrase poopie Picassos so I googled and it means a child who fingerpaints his/her own shit. I've never come across a child like that (thank god!). But I can't find the meaning of the green bean Van Goghs so I'm gonna go on a limb and assume it's got to do with vomit.


"I never taught you to do this, Tristan," Effie raised her voice slightly but when the child pouted, she softened her voice considerably. "I know you're not well but you could have called me or your father. You don't... You don't sit and play with your... It's too late now. The damage is done but we definitely have to talk about this later."

"'kay. M'sorry, mama," he mumbled.

"Haymitch, get some cloth and clean this up."

"What? No - I'll give him a bath," he said and before she could protest, he scooped Tristan up and brought him to the bathroom, leaving Effie to deal with the shit, quite literally, in the boys' room.

"I forbid him from ever joining Peeta for any kind of painting ever again," Effie ranted loud enough for him to hear.

Haymitch chuckled. "Why don't you talk a little louder, sweetheart, and wake Ethan up from his sleep. As if you didn't just spent two hours trying to put the sick kid to sleep."

"If you hadn't fed them that soup you bought from Town, we wouldn't be having this problem. I told you, I told you that they should only eat food that I cook. It's healthier."

"But you can't cook," he mumbled under his breath.

"I heard that! Now they've got food poisoning and … and … It's all over the wall, Haymitch," she wailed, "and his bedsheet. These are new bedsheet."

Haymitch wisely kept his mouth shut this time as he unbuttoned Tristan's pajamas. He cleaned his son up and gave the boy a snif. "You smell better. Let's see if you pass your mother's inspection."

He carried the boy and lifted him up right in front of Effie's face. "Smell him," Haymitch grinned. "Good, huh?"

"Are you going to help me clean this now?"

"Oh - will you look at that? - he's yawnin', better put him back to bed," Haymitch said, disappearing into his and Effie's room. It didn't take long for Tristan to fall asleep and it occurred to Haymitch just then to transfer Ethan over before the boy suffocate from the smell.

He wandered back to the nursery, noting how the room was now spotless. Effie was intently fixing the room's fragrance diffuser. He leaned against the wall and watched her.

"So what's more exciting? Tristan's poopie Picassos at 3am or Ethan's green bean Van Goghs at dinner?"

She shot him such a dirty look that he raised both hands to show her that he was only joking.

"You don't get to talk," she hissed, "when you refuse to clean up their messes."

"Fine, I'll do it the next time," he winked and pecked her lips.