"Italics in speech marks represents the Arabian language."
::Parseltongue::
Chapter Five: Terrible Twos
"No!" A voice shrieked. "No! I pway!" Malik smirked at the voice, his little boy, almost two years old now, was picking up the Arabic language like a sponge absorbs water. Of course, his pronunciation was off a little but considering he was under two and spoke English to begin with, it was a huge indication of his intelligence. Malik wouldn't be surprised if his boy would be one of the smartest Assassins of their order. But for now, his intelligent little boy was testing his boundaries and refusing his lessons. Of course, at two most of his lessons were play oriented but the smart lad had worked out these lessons would take him away from Malik and his toys and he'd throw a tantrum each time Rajmael came to collect him for his lessons. "No, I pway!" The little boy protested again. And then a little body flew into the room and threw himself beneath Malik's desk and clung to Malik's leggings. Malik winced as he felt a wooden toy being pressed into his calf, little fingers tangling themselves in the fabric of his leggings.
Rajmael walked in a few moments later, a reluctant smile on his face as he searched the room, quickly seeing little feet poking out from beneath the desk. He bent down to meet Bashir's wary gaze but Bashir immediately pressed his face into his father's knees in an effort to ignore his babysitter and teacher. "Little one. Who says we aren't going to play?" Bashir whined and did his best to sink into Malik's knees.
Malik suppressed a chuckle, not wishing to encourage Bashir's rebellious behaviour and instead put down his quill, pushed his seat back and carefully freed Bashir's fingers from his clothing so he could lift his son onto his lap. Immediately Bashir hugged his father, hiding his face in Malik's robes, his horse toy, a gift from Altair, was pressed into Malik's ribs and he grunted and gently shifted his son so he could gently take the toy from his son and place it on his desk. "Why are you here and not doing your lessons, little one?" Bashir sniffled and stubbornly stayed quiet. Malik tilted Bashir's face up and away from his robes so the boy had to look at him. "Little one." He said in a slightly sterner tone. "Why are you not listening to your teacher?"
"I want to pway!" Bashir answered.
"You can play with Rajmael." Bashir pouted in response and shook his head frantically. Malik hid his smile in his son's hair. "It is important for you to do your learning as well as playing, little one. Learning is an important part of being a person." Malik softly chided. "We only better ourselves when we are willing to listen and learn. And learning can be lots of fun if you embrace it."
"No, Daddy, I pway!" Bashir protested again.
"Who's to say we can't play as we learn?" Rajmael asked. "I had Darim and Sef hide twelve soft feathers in the castle. All painted bright colours. If I find more then you, we will do maths. If you find more than me, we'll play hide and seek."
Immediately Malik felt Bashir perk up. Bashir loved playing hide and seek, because he was so good at it. He was almost impossible to find when he wanted to be. Within the last few months Malik had been called to his suite to help search for his son because neither Darim, Sef or Rajmael could find the little boy. And yet Bashir was always in the most obvious place. His twinkling green eyes glowing with such happiness and amusement as Malik would bend down to look into his hiding place, and the boys and novice would always declare that they'd search there before and that Bashir had not been there. Altair was sure it was some sort of magic, that Bashir could literally will people to ignore him, but Malik did not believe him, if Bashir was able to so easily hide why was Malik always able to find his son?
"We pway?" Bashir asked suspiciously, well Malik thought it was meant to be a suspicious look but the narrowed eyes and furrowed brows just made his son look absolutely adorable and a little silly.
"Only if you find more feathers then me." Rajmael challenged.
Bashir scrambled out of his father's lap, forgetting his previous rebellious moment and his horse that still stood upon his father's table and his ran to the door. "Bashir." Malik called teasingly. "I think you are forgetting something." He had the toy horse in his hand now. Bashir smiled and rushed back, grabbing for his toy he made to run away again, but he frowned for a moment then turned back to his father, his small hand and the toy lay upon Malik's knees as the toddler stood on tippy toes and made a kissy face. Malik grinned leaning down to let Bashir kiss his cheek before he kissed his son's brow. "Have fun little one." Bashir giggled, lighting up the room with his smile and laughter before fleeing the room. Rajmael laughed, bowed to Malik and followed the exuberant little boy.
"He's going to be a handful when he is older." Altair commented.
Malik chuckled as he turned to see Altair entering the room via one of the windows. "Can you not enter rooms like a normal person? This place does not need your infiltrative abilities and I don't need your sons nor mine learning how to do such activities at their age. Bashir's mischief worries me enough, I don't need to worry about him climbing in and out of windows instead of using doors."
"It's why I waited until he left." Altair stated as he leaned against Malik's desk. "It is good to see his personality coming out. A little boy should not be so quiet. I am pleased to see his rebellion and mischief, despite the mayhem and worry it may cause."
"Yes, his cautiousness did make me worry. I was afraid he was abused. Although he had no physical injury. But who is to say he didn't witness something that affected his young mind? I have seen young children go into shock at seeing death or severe injuries, their little minds unable to comprehend the severity of what they are seeing. If he was frightened by something that could have resulted in his shyness. But what did he see to cause it? That's what concerns me because I fear if it was enough to scar his mind, we may deal with the horrors he witnessed later on in his life through his behaviour or nightmares."
"That is a mountain we must climb when we reach it. We still have little information of what he is. The investigations into the name Dumbledore have come to nothing, and unfortunately, investigation into the Dumble's of England have given us no information." Altair answered.
"What of the healer? Mafoi?"
"That is what I wish to speak to you about." Altair stated. "Mafoi has proven to be a reliable healer and his guard have only good things to say. I believe we can trust him and if you agree I think we should allow him to meet Bashir. If Bashir is magic, this healer may be able to tell us."
"And if Bashir possesses no magic?"
"Then we look for other reasons for the mystery of his appearance." Altair answered. "I am determined to find out who abandoned this child, if for no other reason then to give this Dumbledore a piece of my mind. It is still incomprehensible to me, unforgiveable even, that this man dumps a child on a woman with merely a letter to explain."
"The letter itself is strange, don't you think?" Malik asked. "The envelope it was in was strange, you said it yourself, that only those who possessed a piece of Eden would know what an envelope is. This suggests Bashir was abandoned or dumped by a Templar or another organisation of Assassins who possess one of those items."
"True enough. When I first saw the envelope, I thought nothing of it, but it did strike me as odd later on. Only those capable of using the item and remaining sane could have known what the envelope was. The Apple shows many strange things and these envelopes were one such thing. But that theory would mean there is an enemy we do not yet see, and they may be closer than we think if they were able to abandon a baby in the Jerusalem Bureau."
"That is a frightening thought." Malik replied. "And if magic is real, as you seem determined to prove, we may have enemies far worse than the Templars sneaking around our home." Malik sighed. "If you are right, we have witches, wizards, warlocks and who knows what else hiding amongst humanity. And those with power can and often are corrupted. How many of these creatures would be willing to side with humanity? How many have morals, kindness and loyalty in their hearts? And who is to say that the creators of the pieces of Eden is not one of these beings with great power? We could be fighting a losing war if that story is true."
"You don't have much faith that those with magic are good people."
"Power corrupts." Malik countered. "And if magic did exist, where are those agents defending against the brainwashing of the pieces of Eden, where are those fighting against the Templars goal to subjugate all people and live in a totalitarian society?"
"We cannot answer that question until we find one."
"If they exist at all."
A shriek interrupted them and Bashir ran past, followed closely by Rajmael who could easily catch the boy but didn't, letting Bashir win their little race. In Bashir's hands were two brightly coloured feathers and judging by the colours on Rajmael's hands, the assistant had found them first and had given them to the little boy. The pair vanished again, Bashir's laughter fading as they disappeared further into Masyaf's castle.
"If they are anything like Bashir, I don't think we need to be afraid." Altair commented.
"Bashir is a child." Malik retorted. "More importantly he is my son and he will be taught to behave with respect and kindness to others."
"One man's hero is another man's villain." Altair countered. "Morality is different the world over. Regardless of how we raise our children, there will always be those who look upon us and our descendants as villains. Bashir may be the kindest man alive when he is of age, but there will always be someone who hates him, whether it be because of his looks, his beliefs or his morality. All we can do is teach our children to learn from their mistakes and to better themselves regardless of the opposition against them. And we must pray that the good, the truth and the right triumph over the evil and the lies."
"When did you become so wise?" Malik muttered rhetorically.
"I grew up when I realised the man I idolised, the man I saw as my father, turned from idol to man. I grew up when I realised men can believe in a cause so strongly and yet be morally wrong to do so. I realised then that despite the righteousness of our fight, we needed to adjust our methods. We were so set in our ways we'd become stagnant, so used to fighting and killing that we'd begun to see each other as the enemy. Al Mualim may have had a selfish reason for aiding the growth of the Assassin Order, but he gave humanity a gift when he aided us and it is our responsibility to reflect humanity, to prove humanity is worth fighting for." Altair smiled. "Don't you see, Malik. It doesn't matter about whether magic exists or not. What matters is we need to protect it just like we protect all things that represent humanity. The Templars would see anything unique and special about humanity destroyed. It would take our religions, our culture, our uniqueness and wipe it from existence. Yes, our differences lead to mistakes, war, genocide, murder, racism, sexism and bias, but to err is to be human. If the Templars take it, how can we better ourselves? How can we as a species grow up and be the best we can be if we are not allowed to make mistakes?"
"Millions of people a year are killed because of religious and political strife and you liken that to teenage tantrums?" Malik asked.
"Not at all." Altair answered. "The deaths of innocent people are abhorrent and the people inflicting those deaths deserve punishment, but we must also recognise that change can be violent. We need only look into history to know this is true. Not so long-ago Britain was divided by clans, now they have a monarchy. Here we have division between religions which lead to violent clashes. And yet, these people have found a way to co-exist, through democracy, because they come to understand that violence is not always the answer. Yes, democracy has its pitfalls but it works because it gives a voice to everyone down to the smallest child. We learned from our mistakes and learned that democracy, unity and peace are the solution. The Templars claim to seek peace, but peace from what? They'd take away our ability to love, to feud and find peaceful solutions and they'd take away our right to grow."
"And you believe magic will defend us. Give us the edge we need to protect our people, to defend their right to make mistakes and to learn from those mistakes."
"You saw what happened to Masyaf when Mualim used the item. How blank and empty those people were. I don't even want to call them people, they were more puppets than people. Everything that made them special, that made them who they were was stolen. If we can find away to protect humanity from the most severe influences of the Pieces of Eden then we may have achieved one important victory. Potentially we could make the Pieces of Eden inert and free humanity from their threat for good and in doing so we could strike a devastating blow to the Templars; no more could they brainwash and remove an individuals' humanity."
Malik sighed. "Alright. I'll take Bashir to meet Healer Mafoi. But I will not let the results change Bashir or how I'll raise him."
"That's all I ask for, Malik." Altair replied. "We need answers and I am absolutely positive Mafoi has those answers."
"Let's hope you are right."
"I am not going to endanger Bashir or my sons, Malik. Trust me."
"I trust you. There are times I wish I didn't but I trust you, with my life and with my son's life."
"And that trust is not misplaced." Altair reassured. "I don't believe Mafoi is a threat to us. I think he has the answers we seek, but I also believe he'll be reluctant to give answers to us ordinary people. If Bashir is magic like Mafoi is supposed to be, he may tell us information in an effort to teach Bashir and to help us raise a magic child appropriately."
"So, Bashir is bait." Malik sighed torn between being furious and frustrated.
"I will kill Mafoi if he harms a single hair upon your son's head." Altair reassured.
"That is the only reason I will allow this. Bashir could have no better protector." Malik answered with a tired sigh. "After Bashir's lessons, we'll pay a visit to this Healer."
Of course, adults' plans were meant to be challenged. And Bashir was no in the mood to behave. He'd had to have a bath as he'd somehow got himself covered in the paint Altair's boys had used to paint the feathers (Malik was going to find out how that happened later), the toddler was tired and a tired toddler was a grumpy toddler. So, Malik had been forced to pick up his whining boy and carry him on his hip all the way to Healer Mafoi's infirmary. The toddler whined and hid his face in his father's robes, lifting his head to rub his eyes every now and then.
"Master Ibn La Ahad, Master Al-Sayf and…" Healer Mafoi paused eyeing the child in Malik's arms.
"This is Bashir Al-Sayf. He is here for a check-up." Altair stated.
Mafoi nodded, never taking his eyes of Bashir and Malik was growing more and more tense. Still, he gently seated himself where the healer requested in an effort not to jostle the tired toddler in his arms. Bashir grumbled a little but he peeked out of Malik's robes and almost immediately the tired toddler turned into a fascinated toddler. His beautiful gems for eyes were wide as his head shook back and forth as he stared at everything and everyone present with awe. He turned to his father and pointed asking really basic questions such as "What, Daddy?" His small mind not yet able to comprehend all the names and places for things, especially things he'd not seen before.
"We are in the infirmary little one. And this is Healer Mafoi. He is going to take a look at you and make sure you are healthy." Malik answered. Bashir smiled as if he understood his father and the likelihood was that he knew enough to know he was safe. He didn't react when Mafoi began his precursory checks, looking for any visible wounds or discolouration on his skin, checking his teeth and his eyes and other important factors in one's health.
"He looks very healthy and he is very alert which is good to see with children since the young years are important for their development. What they see and hear now will affect the people they will become." Mafoi stated. "What is his diet and activity like?"
"He is very active. He can walk and run around on his feet for short bursts but still enjoys being on hands and knees. He likes active games such as seeking and hunting games which challenge him mentally as well as physically. He is still on soft foods, such as breads, oatmeal, stews and the like and he enjoys the taste of fruit but like most children he does not like eating healthy so we often disguise his fruit in oat biscuits and other soft snacks."
Mafoi chuckled. "The classic child. I am afraid to inform you that their picky eating continues for years. My nephew for example loves the taste of carrot but does not like cooked carrot and he likes apples but not stewed apples." Mafoi explained. He laughed "I never grew out of my picky eating. I personally don't like tough meats; I prefer poultry and fish to steak and pork." He gently chucked Bashir's chin, earning a squeaky, surprised laugh. "There is something I want to check. Is there anything you have on you that he like, a toy perhaps?"
As a matter of fact, Bashir had dropped his toy on their way to the infirmary. His tired grip loosening enough for his beloved horse to slip from his fingers. Altair had picked it up since Malik had only one arm and so it was Altair who stepped forward to hand Mafoi the toy. Mafoi immediately moved a few metres away and placed the toy in plain view. "Bashir." He called. "Can you find your horse?"
Bashir, who'd been oblivious to the loss of his toy in his exhaustion immediately perked up and searched for his toy. He checked his father, then Altair and then looked at Mafoi, but he did not seem to realise that Mafoi stood next to his toy. Instead, he began to squirm, a sure sign of a crying fit.
"Bashir." Mafoi called again, gaining Bashir's attention once more. This time he waved the toy in the air and Bashir followed the motion, reaching for his horse. Mafoi approached and handed it over to the boy, chuckling softly as the head immediately went into the boy's small mouth. "As we talked, I noticed he seemed attracted to motion and bright colours. When he asked you what everything was, when he was pointing, he was pointing at bright objects, large and obvious objects and he would watch me move my hands, noticing my movements. This could be a good sign of attentiveness but I had my suspicions. He is picking up on our movement but when something is still, small and far away from him he is not quick to notice them. It suggests he might be short-sighted but considering that strange scar on his brow we can exclude an eye injury."
"Is he in pain? His eyes don't seem to hurt him." Malik answered.
"Does he get frustrated after a short time reading or drawing? If too much motion is around him, does he become distressed? Or if there is too little motion and everyone is far from him, does he become upset? If there is too much colour and activity does he display pain, holding his head, covering his eyes and crying?"
"I've not noticed. Normally he falls asleep when I read to him. He doesn't do much colouring in preferring to play with his wooden toys and engage in active play. He is not far from adults, so he is never isolated but I only allow a select ammount of adults around him for his safety so he is never overwhelmed."
"Does this mean he can't see people around him? Because he notices us entering the room and seems to spot his father easily."
Mafoi laughed. "Short sighted doesn't mean blind. He can see people, especially if they are big adults and wearing bright clothes. Since most Assassins' here wear white, he can see them. Plus, he knows his father and you, he'd recognise your voice and may recognise who you are if not by your gait and voice, then by your clothes if you are not close enough for him to see your face."
"Can you determine his full range of vision?" Altair dared to ask. "Is there a way for his vision to be improved?"
Mafoi frowned. "Since he is so young it is hard to work out what his range of sight is. If he could tell us for himself, I'd have a better understanding of what is happening, but unfortunately, we don't have that option, at least not yet. What I can do is brew a potion that will temporarily discolour any areas of injury or damage in the eye. If I apply a couple of drops to each eye we can see if there is something to be concerned about."
"so, can you fix his vision?" Malik asked.
"I cannot promise I can fix everything, but I can certainly do my utmost to help your son if he does indeed have an injury to his eyes. He is young enough that there is a high probability that I can fix any damage to his young eyes."
"And these potions, what are they?" Malik asked suspiciously.
"A mixture of special herbs with healing qualities." Mafoi reassured. "If brewed correctly they can be powerful healers."
"Or powerful poisons." Malik countered.
"I would never kill my patients." Mafoi retorted. "I will harm neither you or your son. If you wish it, I'd use the potion on my own eyes before applying them to your child."
"You are that confident." Malik asked.
"I am one of the very best brewers of potions. My healing potions were sought out by many. My reputation should be proof enough that I am trustworthy."
"Your reputation is that you are a witch who uses magic." Malik answered.
"Superstition, I assure you. People fear what they do not understand. My knowledge of plants and their uses is advanced, I've learnt all my life, but my knowledge of potions and poisons makes people afraid, as you are afraid. I know how much of something can heal or kill a man and because of this I am a threat. It doesn't matter that I'd never kill a man unless in self-defence, most people learn of my knowledge and capabilities and immediately fear me and because they fear me, they'd see me dead, simply for knowing something they didn't. That fear and the immediate response to kill what they fear is why so much knowledge and culture has been lost, ancient tribes and peoples just wiped off the face of the Earth because they were different." Mafoi said passionately. "Trust me Master Al-Sayf when I say I'll be using my gifts to heal and protect your son. I would do no harm to the people that claim that they desire to protect individuality and uniqueness. I am your ally and in time I hope to be your friend."
Malik swallowed. "Alright, brew your potion for my son. I want the best for him and if you can help him then please do."
Mafoi nodded relieved. "May I request an assistant? Since I am not permitted to leave Masyaf I require someone to collect these herbs. It is important they are gathered correctly so someone experienced in harvesting plants would be ideal."
Altair nodded. "I will see who is suitable for the task and send them here in the morning."
Bashir yawned, almost falling out of Malik's lap if not for his father's quick reflexes. Malik chuckled, resettling his son on his hip as he slowly rose to his feet. "I have someone in mind who may be perfect for this job. I will speak to him after I've put Bashir to bed."
"No!" Bashir whined. "Not sleepy!" He yawned immediately after; he then began frowning at his body's betrayal. "No sleep!" He protested again.
Malik chuckled and bowed to the Healer. "Have a good evening. Alert me to when this…potion is available and I will arrange a suitable time to visit with Bashir."
"I will do." Mafoi replied, bowing to Malik and then Altair as both Masters said their farewells before leaving the infirmary. Bashir was starting a tantrum, kicking his legs and all but screaming "Not sleepy" as they walked through the hallways to their private chambers. The two adults ignored his protest for the most part, enduring his protesting screeches with a few winces as their ears rung. It was important that they treated bedtime as a normal and fun activity regardless of how Bashir protested, Malik did not want Bashir associating bedtime as a negative experience so he usually dealt with any misbehaviour a little before bed before reading his son a bedtime story and tucking him into bed. Unfortunately, anything that meant stopping play or fun activities was immediately a negative thing for any small toddler and if there was one thing Malik looked forward to when Bashir was older it would be normal bedtimes and a few wonderful hours of uninterrupted sleep.
All was quiet in their private chambers. Sef and Darim had not returned from their lessons, their tutor had wanted to do some late-night training to teach them stealth and awareness at night. It was a terrible lesson that Malik remembered with distaste, so cold and dark, but it was an invaluable lesson as assassins and other killers often used the more frightening time of night, when most were asleep, to strike. It was a good thing they were away this night, as Bashir was squealing and protesting, although his strength was waning as tiredness took control, squeals turning to whines, whines turning to whimpers and then finally Bashir cuddled into his father's robe, half asleep and yet valiantly trying to stay awake.
Warm milk was ordered from the kitchens and delivered promptly by a servant who smiled at Bashir, chuckling to herself as Bashir grumbled, rubbing the back of his fist over his eyes and glaring at his father. Honestly, the glare was adorable and Altair choked on a laugh and turned away to hide his expression when Bashir startled by the noise turned to Altair. "No sleep, Daddy!"
"You are not going to sleep just yet, little one. First you are going to drink your milk as Altair reads you a story." Again, Malik received the absolutely adorable glare but Malik merely shifted Bashir to rest against him, reaching for the cup of milk and placing it into his son's hands. Bashir was able to hold a cup and drink from it by this point, but he was unsteady, so Malik kept his hand beneath the cup in case it should fall from little fingers as sleep claimed his son. He watched, pleased as Bashir drank his fill, finishing almost the entire cup and quietly listening to Altair's voice, a soothing, steady tone when he wasn't complaining. Malik felt the moment Bashir fell asleep, the cup falling into his hands and his son's little head resting on the crook of his elbow.
Altair quietly closed the book and took the empty cup as Malik carefully shifted his arm to cradle his son as he stood. And within a few short moments, Bashir was changed and tucked into a warm cocoon of bed sheets and pillows. He took a few moments to watch his son, smiling as Bashir's nose crinkled as if in distaste at whatever his dreams were showing him before he breathed a small sigh and relaxed. Smiling, Malik kissed his son's brow, lightly ruffled the rats' nest that was his toddler's hair and then left the room, leaving the door ajar so he could hear if his son called for him.
Author note + Story Research:
This chapter skips a little ahead by a couple of months. As Harry was fifteen months old when his parents died and now, he is coming up to two years old. He is starting to come out of his shell and since he is so young, he'll be picking up Arabic more easily than an older child or adult would since he hasn't learnt as much English and therefore is a blank canvas. Since he is surrounded by Arabic speaking people, he'd begin to pick up Arabic very quickly but since it's only been a few months he'd still only understand the basics, words he's heard regularly and knows the meaning of. An example is the fact that he'd probably understand the meaning of maths, play, hide and seek because the adults speak about these things around him. I've watched a few YouTube videos about child development, including their development of talking and the sheer diversity of learning amongst these toddlers was amazing, some spoke only a few words and some were able to speak full sentences. If your interested in these videos yourself look up '2-year-old impersonates adults talking on the phone OMG' and '2-year-old boy talking' (a video of a boy playing a miniature guitar).
At two years old Bashir will also be trying to be a little more independent, which is encouraged since it encourages growth both mentally and physically. In this case Bashir can hold his own cup and is able to run about (although motion is unique to each child and some may prefer to crawl for a little longer but ideally children should be able to stand and run independently by two years old – most child development websites and books say the age when children should be running independently is about 18-24 months).
Being a toddler, he does grow more frustrated, his inability to communicate effectively and his lack of understanding about what is good and right (such as regular bedtimes) means he will throw tantrums and grow frustrated when he feels ignored or misunderstood. Of course, this varies from child to child, some are calm and quiet and others are more rambunctious and adventurous. All milestones in child development are just that, milestones, each child will reach the next stage of their development when they are good and ready, although if they take too long that is where the concerns for their development arise.
Children also become very attached to their caretakers/parents. Since Malik may not have spent much time away from Bashir, the toddler would have become attached. This is why Malik is not interfering with Rajmael's teaching of Bashir to ensure Bashir is socialised and not dependent on Malik. Socialisation is, like all things, different for every child and each parent will make the choice that is best for their child/ren and their development. In the case of this story, Malik cannot always be there for Bashir as he is a Master of the Assassin Order and therefore needs to leave Bashir for long periods of time, so building a bond between Bashir and another care-taker is important for Bashir's safety and wellbeing, as well as for his development.
As for Harry/Bashir's sight, there is a little bit of a debate on why he needs glasses. He may be long-sighted but then he shouldn't need glasses when he's out and about, he should only need them for tasks closer to his face or that are more intricate such as reading and writing. So, I personally believe he is short-sighted, perhaps due to the killing curse and the subsequent lightning shaped scar? I had a good look around the web and there is a lot of variations, some are long-sighted in one eye and short-sighted in another. Others are colour-blind as well as short/long-sightedness. So, really, I had a lot of leeway of how I wanted Bashir's eyes to work. I chose short-sightedness but chose not to make him colour-blind, so he can see motion, large objects and bright colours.
As for your guesses as to who the witches and wizards are, I'm impressed by all your guesses! You'll forgive me if I don't reveal them all just yet as I intend a big reveal in later chapters. Please feel free to continue offering your own opinions and ideas on who is who as I always love reading your reviews. And of course, any parents reading this story are welcome to offer their own experiences, I have found the reviews from you to be very informative!
I loved writing this chapter simply because writing a grumpy toddler was so much fun! I hope you have as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it!
Until next time
Kelral