Montague scowled at the stair case. He shouldn't be having these troubles. Everyone else got along just fine. IN a huff, he sat down as his mother approached. "You're looking quite annoyed at the stairs," she said, trying to hold in her laughter. "Did they do something to you?"

"It's not the stairs," Montague pouted. "It's me, I'm a freak."

Helen frowned as she settled next to her youngest son. "What makes you say that?" she wondered.

"Because I'm nearly six years old and I don't have the gift."

"Gift? What gift?"

"The gift that daddy has. And Ashley and Gregory and everyone else except me. Sarah even has it now and she's younger than I am."

Everything clicked for Helen then. "Ah, you mean teleporting," she said.

"Exactly," Montague agreed. "Only I can't do it. I asked Trisha how she did it and she said she just thought really hard about where she wanted to go and closed her eyes. When she opened them she was there."

"And I take it when you tried, nothing happened."

"It never does."

Helen thought hard about how to comfort her child. Inwardly she sighed. Most mothers never had to deal with these issues. But then, had she really expected anything different when she married John? "Monty, you are in no way a freak," she told him. "Things like this gift are very hard to predict. They develop differently in different people."

"But everyone else has it!" Montague interrupted.

Helen bit back the urge to sigh. "I don't have it," she pointed out. "And I get along just fine."

"Are you saying I'll never be like the others?"

"I'm saying you're worrying about it too much right now. If you're meant to have it you'll develop it in your own time. If you don't then no matter. You have plenty about you that makes you stand out. You don't need to add teleporting to that list."

"You mean it?"

Helen smiled at the doubtful tone. "I promise."

Monty grinned at his mother. "Then I won't worry so much," he decided. "But I'd still like it if I got to move around like daddy does."

"Wouldn't we all," Helen chuckled. At that moment the door opened as John came home from work. "Well speak of the devil."

John looked up at his wife and child with a smile. "Now Helen, you wouldn't mean me would you?"

"And what other trickster would haunt this house," Helen teased.

John feigned hurt. "I'm wounded Helen." He looked to his son. "Monty, tell your mother I'm no devil nor trickster. Just a poor henpeck husband that can't seem to please his wife."

"Daddy's no devil," Monty declared loyally. "He's the best." With a laugh he ran to his father. John lifted him into the air with a laugh of his own. This brought the other children to the landing. Calls of daddy could be heard as they jostled each other trying to be the first downstairs.

Helen watched the whole scene with a contented smile playing around her mouth. "Children, go and wash up. Dinner will be soon and anyone with dirty hands doesn't eat." The room cleared father than you could blink. Helen laughed as she came down to greet her husband in her own way.

"So what were you talking about when I came in?" John asked when he had pulled away enough to talk.

"Just normal childhood issues," Helen told him. "Or at least normal for this family."

John chuckled. "Nothing in this family is normal."

"But that's what makes it wonderful. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to check on dinner for my children and poor henpecked husband." She paused to cast a sinful glance over her shoulder. "Just for the record, you manage to please me a great deal."

John laughed as she disappeared around the corner.