What Does Mummy Do?
Scabior was sitting at the kitchen table with his daughter one morning, the two of them having breakfast together when Melody suddenly asked, "What does mummy do?"
Scabior was chewing a mouthful of pancakes smothered in syrup when she asked this question, and it took him a moment to finish chewing and swallow before speaking. "Wha do you mean 'wha does mummy do'?" he asked.
"Mummy's job," his four year old chirrped. "You snatch people with bad blood. What does mummy do?"
"Bad blood," Scabior chuckled, a grin on his face at his daughter's choice of words. "They're called mudbloods, sweet'eart. It means they are very valuable to daddy an 'e can turn them in an make money off them."
Draconius, who was in the process of making more pancakes for her husband and daughter, sat the bowl of pancake batter down on the counter and took a seat at the table beside her daughter. "You want to know what mummy's job is, sweetie?"
"Yes, yes!" Melody said, bouncing excitedly in her seat. "Please tell me."
"Alright, settle down, honey. You know how daddy often gets sick and mummy has to take care of him?"
"Uh-huh." Melody nodded.
Scabior didn't look pleased by her interest and enthusiasm. The last thing he needed was another healer in the family, poking and prodding him, giving him a disapproving look while lecturing him on his drinking habits.
"Mummy gets paid to take care of people who are sick or hurt," Draconius explained. "That's my job. I work at the hospital taking care of people and making them feel better."
Melody's eyes widened. "You make money making people feel better?"
Scabior groaned. "Don't encourage 'er," he said, tucking another forkful of pancakes into his mouth. The words were barely out of his mouth when Draconius had summoned some of her medical textbooks, levitating them onto the table and opening them for their daughter to have a look.
The curious child leaned forward in her seat, looking at the pictures in the books. She began pointing at the pictures, asking questions and wanting to know what certain things were. Scabior frowned, trying his best to ignore their conversation as Draconius began giving their daughter a lesson on human anatomy, diseases, and potions and spells that could be used to cure various illnesses, all of which the little girl found fascinating.
The four year old hung on to her mother's every word, listening and learning as Draconius explained things to her. She made sure to keep her explanations simple so Melody could understand what she was telling her, and answered her questions to the best of her ability whenever Melody asked her something.
"What's that?" Melody asked, pointing to one of the pictures in the book.
"That is the appendix," said Draconius. "It's a small, worm-shaped organ in your tummy. Sometimes it becomes inflamed, or swells up, and has to be removed."
"What makes it swell up, mummy?"
Draconius looked at her husband. "You want to explain this to her, Scabior?"
Scabior glared at his wife. He really didn't want to get drug into this conversation. But his daughter was looking at him expectantly, and there didn't seem to be a way out of this. So he thought about it for a minute and said, "Toothbrush bristles. Tha's wha makes your appendix go bad. Every time a toothbrush bristle comes out an you swallow it, it sticks in your appendix an turns it rotten."
"That isn't true," said Draconius.
Scabior shrugged. "Tha's wha my mum always told me. She said tha when you swallow a toothbrush bristle it sticks in your appendix an turns it rotten. It always made me nervous when I was brushing my teeth an found a bristle on my tongue. I figured tha, if swallowed enough of them, I'd end up getting appendicitis. Which I did."
"Yes, but it wasn't because of that, Scabior. You get appendicitis from having a blockage in your appendix that causes an infection."
"An the blockage is toothbrush bristles."
Draconius sighed. Sometimes her husband was impossible to deal with.
Melody looked up at her father. "What was it like when you got sick, daddy? Did mummy cut you open? Did you cry? Did you bleed?"
"No, sweet'eart, she didn't cut me open. Which is surprising because I 'onestly thought she would. An I didn't cry or bleed. Grown men don't cry, Melody."
"That is also incorrect," said Draconius. "You clung to me and cried, begging me not to operate on you because you were afraid I'd have to cut you open."
"Really?" Scabior looked puzzled. "I don't remember tha. I was delirious from pain an fever, so I'm afraid I don't remember most of wha 'appened."
"Well you didn't get sick because of toothbrush bristles turning your appendix rotten. Appendicitis is caused by a blockage, usually a mass of waste matter from the intestines."
Scabior snorted just as he was taking a sip of milk, and nearly spit his drink back in his glass. "Are you saying I'm full of shit, pet?"
That was too much for Draconius, and she fell across the table laughing. "Yes, Scabior, that's exactly what your problem is. You're so full of it your guts exploded!"
Melody looked from her mother, who was laughing hysterically while laying across a pile of open textbooks, to her father who had a look of shock plastered on his face. "Does that mean daddy can't make poo?" she asked.
Scabior's mouth fell open as he looked at his daughter, and Draconius laughed even harder.
"No wonder daddy is so grumpy," said Melody. "People always get grumpy when they can't make poo."