A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts! I'm glad so many of you enjoyed the first part of this short story! As I'd said on Facebook, this was initially meant to be a one-shot, but the more and more I looked at it, it just felt to me as if it would read better as a short story or it would've ended up a 20,000-word chapter.

Either way, it was fun to write these guys as little kiddos and thereby imagine the types of conversations and events they would've had. Of course, little kids turn into middle school kids, then teenage kids, and later…

Well, I hope you all keep enjoying this more lighthearted story, especially during these times. :)

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.

Stages Ch. 2 – Pre-school and Elementary School

STAGE 2: Pre-school Stage for Bella, and Elementary-School Stage for me:
(aka Bella constantly cried because Emmett and I were too big to play with her).

Here's one way Mrs. Swan was wrong (we'll get to the other way later):

Even when Bella left behind the newborn stage, she held on tight to the constant shrieking and crying. She cried when she was one and learning to walk:

"Boys, mind that you don't knock Bella over while you're playing."

"Et! Em!"

"But Mom, it's not our fault that she wants to learn to walk where we're playing!"

"Yeah, it's not our fault that Bella Marie is always in the way!"

"That's because she wants to play with both of you. Esme, look at how she watches Edward."

"Aww, how cute. Edward, Bella wants to be your friend too."

"Well, she's too little to be my friend! Maybe when you're bigger, Bella Marie, I'll think about being your friend!"

She cried when she was two, and she would watch us from her blow-up kiddie pool as Emmett and I swam in the in-ground pool in my backyard.

"Bella, watch us swim!"

"Yeah, watch us, Bella Marie!"

"I swim in big pooh wih Edwih, Emmih!"

"Bella, you can't swim in the big pool with us cuz you can drown! You have to stay in the kiddie pool with Mom!"

"Edwih! Peez!"

"You're too tiny to be in the pool, Bella Marie! Maybe when you're a big girl, I'll let you swim with me."

She even burst into tears at her third birthday party:

"Edwahd an' Emmitt blew out my big goh candow!"

"That's because you were too slow, baby sister!"

"Yeah, that candle could've started a fire, like the one that almost burned down Chicago a long, long time ago. A big, cool city like Chicago can deal with a big fire, but Forks would've been destroyed. We did the entire town a favor by blowing out your candle when we did."

"Now, Edward, the correct reply is, 'I'm sorry, Bella.'"

"I'm sorry, Bella Marie – but we did save the town!"

Bella cried so much that sometimes, I'd hear her crying in my sleep.

Actually, her bedroom window faced mine, so I would hear her crying in my sleep.

"Argh! Bella Marie, some of us have school tomorrow! The last thing I want to hear in the middle of the night is you!"

These sorts of interactions continued for a few years.

Here's another story, often retold by our parents (though I have a clearer memory of this one than I do of our first meeting), that illustrates just how much of a disruption a pre-school-staged Bella was to our childhood adventures.

It was the Clallam County Little League World Series – an important day for any school-age kid growing up in the Boondocks and without a Wrigley Field around the corner.

At age four, Bella was in the Forks Pee-Wee Division. Along with every other Pee-Wee Division in Clallam County, the Forks Pee-Wees qualified for the World Series simply based on their age. Because God forbid the four-year-olds were excluded from the County World Series, talk about the potential for meltdown galore. However, due to the shitty attention spans that accompanied their age, they only played four innings, with one appearance per player at-bat. Then, once they were done, every Pee-Wee received an "MVP" trophy, ice cream, and cheesy-picture time.

Then, we moved on to the real games.

See, that year, Emmett and I had graduated into the Forks Eight-to-Nine-Year-Old Junior Baseball Division, though on opposing teams. Em played with the Forks Loggers, and I played with the Forks Olympians.

We were, as some might say, 'in the big leagues now.' (No pun intended.)

At the top of the sixth and last inning (as per Junior Little League Rules), the score was five to four with the Olympians up and at the plate. Mikey Newton, who sucked big-time, was pitching for the Loggers. He'd already walked our two previous batters.

"Cullen, you're up!" Coach Swan called out.

I was up, and this was about to become at least a six to four game before the top of the inning was over, which meant the Loggers would go into the bottom of the sixth at a minimum of two runs behind.

We had the game in the bag.

As I strutted confidently up to the plate, I channeled Sammy Sosa at Wrigley Field, swinging my bat like a pro. The crowd on the bleachers cheered me on, and the rest of my team followed suit.

"Come on, Cullen, you got this! Come on, Cullen!"

The Loggers, meanwhile, were left to bite the shit out of their tongues because Little League rules prevented them from jeering. Instead, sportsmanship rules forced them to encourage their scrub batter.

"Come on, Mikey!" they called out halfheartedly. "Come on! You can…well, you can try to do it."

Even more than the rest of my team, I was the one with the most at stake. See, so far, I'd scored three of my team's five runs, while Emmett had scored three of his team's four runs. Depending on which team won that night, either Em or I would be crowned our Division's MVP – practically King of the County as far as small towns were concerned.

As I took my place, I adjusted my cap and smirked, inwardly wishing I had something in my mouth to spit out and thereby complete the great picture I knew I made. Regardless, as I lifted my bat, a hush fell over the crowd because everyone knew…it was my moment to shine.

"I wanna bat!"

Everyone that is, except the most annoying four-year-old in the world.

I'd caught a glimpse of her earlier, sitting in the bleachers with my mom and Mrs. Swan. She was eating her celebratory 'I-had-a-turn-at-bat' ice cream while swinging her short, skinny legs.

"I wanna bat!"

Now, she was on the field, and from what I could see of her tiny face from where it lay hidden under her cap, she was flushed, strands of curly brown hair wildly encircling the cap, like climbing vines.

"Bella Marie, what are you doing?" Using my bat, I pointed at the bleachers. "Get back up there!"

"But I wanna bat!"

Not surprisingly, the crowd took note of this sudden interruption.

"Who is that? Is that the chief's little girl? Someone get her off the field!"

"Bella, honey, come back up here with Mommy!"

"Bella," Coach Swan said, "get back up there with Mom!"

Kate and Tanya Denali, twin girls in our junior division's corresponding softball group, both tried to catch Bella's attention.

"Little girl! Yoo-hoo, little girl, come up here with us so that Edward can have his turn at bat!"

"Yeah, we've been waiting! Then it's Emmett's turn! Come on, little girl!" they giggled.

Even Emmett emerged from his team's dugout. "Darn it, Bella, you're ruining the game! Let Edward finish his turn so that we can get to my turn, and I can kick his butt!"

"You're not kicking my butt, Emmett, I'm kicking yours!"

"Boys, sportsmanship!"

Bella placed her minuscule fists on her nonexistent hips. "I wanna bat with Edwahd!"

"Bella, please go back up on the bleachers," I hissed. "I've got to bat!"

By this point, all our fellow teammates were groaning, the Denali girls were impatiently twirling their hair, and the rest of the spectators were murmuring in confusion.

"Not fauh! Why do you and Emmett get to bat so much, and I only get one time?"

"Because you're four!"

"Not fauh!"

"Oh, my God!" I growled, dropping my bat and hanging my head. "This isn't happening."

"No dropping bats, Edward," Umpire Cullen – aka Dad – called out – "or I'll have to bench you."

"I bet this never happens to Sammy Sosa!"

"Pick up your bat and show patience and sportsmanship."

"Bella, your game is over!" Emmett yelled. "Get off the field!"

"Bella, honey, please come with Mommy!"

"Bella, go!"

"Little girl! Yoo-hoo!"

"My game was faw babies! I wanna play the big kids' game with Edwahd!"

"Boo!" Our fellow Division-mates jeered. "Boo!"

"Kids, sportsmanship!"

"Hey, Chief, how about you get your kid off the field? My boy is antsy to pitch!"

"Newton, you tell your boy to hold on there 'til my Bella's safely off the field, or we're going to have problems!"

"It's alright, Dad," Emmett grinned. "Mikey couldn't hit Bella with that ball if she stood in front of him, took the ball from him, and hit herself with it."

"Why don't you shut your stupid mouth, Emmett! Now, I'm going to aim right for your nose!"

"I'm not worried."

"SPORTSMANSHIP!"

"GET OFF THE FIELD!" the rest of the division players shouted.

Four-year-old Bella threw her head up to the floodlights and the starlit sky and burst into tears.

"Bella Marie, stop crying."

Bella stopped and turned her dirty and tear-stained face toward me. Her huge brown eyes glistened, and a small, vertical line appeared just between her brows, which were barely visible under her baseball cap.

"Come here."

"Can I play wih you?"

I expelled a heavy sigh. "I'll let you bat once if you promise to get off the field after, and let us finish the game."

"I pwomise, Edwahd!"

Erik Yorkie, the catcher, issued a reminder from behind me. "Cullen, if you let her bat for you, you'll be using up one of your three outs."

"It doesn't count. It's just to get her off the field."

"I'm afraid Erik's right, Edward," Coach Swan said. "It's the County World Series. All rules apply."

I clenched my jaw, while Bella peeked up at me from under her cap, batting the tears out of her eyes.

"Please?"

"Ugh, fine, fine," I said through gritted teeth.

"Yay!" Bella cheered and ran, wrapping her scrawny, ice-cream-sticky arms around me.

"Get off! Here, at least let me show you the right way to hold the bat before you fall over."

She giggled through all the instructions I tried to provide. Then, giving up on that, I looked up and glared at Mikey instead.

"Be careful how you pitch that darn ball at her."

"Why?" he chuckled. "If I hit her, maybe she'll learn her lesson and never bother you again."

Nowadays, when I think back to that moment, I know my reply must've been instantaneous. It had to have been, considering Coach Swan – aka Bella's dad – failed to curse out or at the very least bench Mikey for his 'bad sportsmanship' (aka assholery).

But at the time, it seemed as if an entire eternity transpired before I replied. It was as if the floodlights suddenly shone down at me, and as if the crowd abruptly hushed once again, the damp Forks air itself suddenly stood still, all while awaiting my reply. It felt like a lifetime passed, during which I wondered…

I wondered...now why wasn't it a good idea for Mikey to hit Bella with the ball and teach her a lesson?

At the time, I had no answer. All I had were the words I spoke.

"Because if you hit Bella Marie with that ball," I hissed, "I'm going to take the ball, shove it down your throat, wait for you to poop it out, then shove it down your throat again."

Mikey's eyes grew wide while he simultaneously swallowed hard. "Uhm…Coach? Did you hear that? I think that counts as bad sportsmanship."

When I looked over at the coach, he was looking up at the dark sky and whistling a tune to himself.

Mikey managed to pitch a strike against a four-year-old Bella, yet Bella jumped and cheered as if she'd just hit a home-run.

"Yay! Yay, Edwahd! That was fun! Can I-"

"GET OFF THE FIELD NOW!"

She giggled. "Meany, Edwahd."

Now, if this were a movie, my good deed would've earned me, if not a spot in heaven, then a home run, a walk to the next base - a hit at the very least.

Instead, the giant scrub that was Mikey Newton somehow managed to strike me, Edward Anthony Cullen, formerly of Chicago, Illinois, the fuck out. Two more Olympian players at-bat went nowhere, and in the next inning, our pitcher, Jakey Black, yet another scrub, walked the first two batters. At Emmett's at-bat, he hit a three-run homer and took home the Division's MVP title and trophy. Afterward, he sat between the Denali twins while they all shared his free triple-scoop of MVP ice-cream, and I sat on the bench alone.

"Edwahd, you wanna shauh my ice-cweam?"

Four-year-old Bella Marie Swan, the bane of my existence, stood in front of me and held out her melted ice-cream. Talk about no good deed going unpunished.

Or so it seemed for a long…long time.

A/N: Thoughts?

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"See" you tomorrow. :)