Alrighty folks this one will be longer as this is going to be a better chapter than my previous ones.
Chrissie makes a stand for basic human rights.
It wasn't often that Chrissie was allowed to go to the park but when she was permitted to do so, under the watchful eye of one of her big brothers of course, she would relish it with all her heart. She giggled gleefully as she saw the playground in the distance from her elder brother's shoulders. Chrissie tugged at the invisible horse reins which urged her sibling along and cautiously across the road.
"What the rules of crossing the road again?" asked Dean.
"I's looks both ways and if der's no cars I's cross" replied the four and a half year old.
"And?," continued her brother. "What else must you being doing too?"
Chrissie furrowed her brow in concentration. During the past few days after she scared her brothers by toddling out into a road to catch the wonky paper airplane she had made, the infant was getting drilled about road safety.
"Holding a grown ups hand" she said eventually.
"That's right," smiled the teenager. He then queried further. "And why must you do that."
"Cos I's can get squisheded by a truck," Chrissie stated in a serious tone. "Den everybody will be sad."
The seventeen year old rolled his eyes at his sister who was developing a strange sarcastic sense of humour. Chrissie had certain saying that would make him laugh. For instance Chrissie once told him:
"Da grass green cos God sneezed and gotten boogers on it"
The fact that the child was so earnest when she made that statement only made him laugh harder. Another time Chrissie said:
"Da moon is made of cheese and mouse aliens lives on it"
The playground homed into view. To a child it was like arriving at the pearly golden gates of heaven itself. A various assortment of colourful monkey bars and climbing frames was mapped out across the designated area; together with a slide, a see saw, roundabout and a collection of swings. Most notably however was the sandbox near the shade beside some old oak trees and a flaking wooden bench from were parents would sit and observe their children. Chrissie could feel her ears tickle as her grin grew wider and wider as she scanned about. She then spotted it. Down the path from the playground was a small duck pond with it's inhabitants drifting about in the murky water. Clutching the small bag of bread chunks in her hands, Chrissie bounced impatiently on her brother's shoulders, a signal to him to let her down. Once on the ground, the sibling joined hands. Chrissie skipped merrily alongside her brother, mumbling a random tune with the bag of bread leftover in her free hand.
Handfuls of stale bread, or "Dead bread" as Chrissie called it, floated in the water until greedy ducks swam along and gobbled it up. The pond was populated by seven ducks including a cluster of five fluffy ducklings. To Chrissie, once clamping eyes on them, it was love at first sight.
"Baby duckies!," cooed the little girl. "Look Deanie baby duckies and der Momma."
"I see them" smiled the eldest crouching down on his haunches beside the infant.
"I's wants one," said Chrissie. Tugging at her brother's arm she gazed up at him with puppy dog eyes. "Can I's have one. Please."
He had to let her down gently, it pained him to do so as most of the time he found it hard to tell her no.
"Sweetheart," he started. "We can't keep a duckling."
"Why?" pouted Chrissie in disappointment.
"Because it's only a baby," pointed out the teen. He swallowed before stating. "It needs it's Mommy. Ducklings can't survive without her."
Chrissie sulked and hurled the last remained bread crusts in moodily. The very word it's self stung like a bumblebee. Mommy. She didn't have a Mommy, not like the other boys and girls around her. A pang of jealously would rise up inside her whenever she watched a mother and child interact whether in the world of reality or even in television. She would even squirm uncomfortably whenever Tommy from the Rugrats was comforted by his mother. It was unfair that everybody else had a Mommy bar her.
Sensing she was eager to move away from the pond, Dean pulled her gently by the hand and began coaxing her back towards the playground. Chrissie then made a be line for the swings. Clambering on broad, Chrissie dangled her legs and waited patiently for her brother to push her.
"Higher!" she cried in delight as she swooped back and forth. "Higher!"
Dean obeyed his baby sister demands to reach the sky and continued to push her higher and higher until she got bored.
"Your turn Deanie," announced Chrissie wriggling over. "I's push you."
It turned out a harder task than Chrissie imagined.
"I's can't push you!," complained Chrissie, huffing and puffing as she vainly tried to push her eldest brother on the swing. "You's too fat and old!"
"Don't ware yourself out kiddo," he said climbing off as Chrissie finally gave up. "Go play in the sandbox. I'll just be over on the bench."
Chrissie nodded and scurried over to the sandbox. The sandbox was already occupied by another small infant. A little boy around the same age as Chrissie with big hazel eyes and curly auburn hair. His cheeks were doughy and round to which every Grandma would love to pinch. He whipped his head around on hearing her approach.
"Hello!" he greeted, a yellow bucket in his grasp.
"Hello" replied Chrissie nervously, she wasn't used to contact with children her own age.
"I's called Stuart," said the freckled faced preschooler. "Whose you?"
"I's Chrissie," introduced Chrissie plonking herself down next to the little boy who seemed to be building something with the yellow bucket in his possession. She was intrigued. "Whatcha doing?"
"I's building Sandcastles," answered Stuart proudly. "Wanna help. I's gonna be King and you can be Queen."
From the bench a few metres away Dean couldn't stop beaming. Chrissie had the old charm and was making instant friends with the chubby little boy. It wasn't every day he saw four year olds flirting. Still he was vigilant as he spotted a larger child, around six years old, hovering nearby, eyeing up the sandbox and it's occupiers with beady eyes. As Chrissie and Stuart completed their ultimate sandcastle, giggling and whooping with joy, the older child made their move.
The boy, wearing an old green t-shirt and red shorts with a band aid plastered on his left knee, marched over.
Chrissie and Stuart appeared bewildered at the shadow that had cast over them and whipped their heads up to see the six year old looming over them.
"Babies can't play in the sandbox" sneered the dirty faced child.
"We's ain't babies" said Chrissie in shock. She added. "I's nearly five."
The kindergartner sniffed distastefully at the smaller infants and with a swift nudge of his foot, caused the sandcastle to collapse. Stuart howled in despair as his magnum opus was destroyed in front of his very eyes. Chrissie's reaction was entirely different to her sobbing sandcastle buddy. Standing defiantly against the bully, Chrissie glowered up at him, sizing him up with tiny daggers.
"Youse a meanie!" glared Chrissie, fingers curled in tight fists.
The bully shook his head pityingly at her and shoved the four year old, knocking her onto her bottom.
Dean, who had been watching the scene unfold was ready for action. Nobody picks on his little sister. He however did not see what was coming next.
Instead of joining her new found friend Stuart in crying, Chrissie steadily got to her feet and stalked over to the bully. Eyes fixed steadily on her target and with all the strength she could muster within herself, kicked the bully square in his little jewels. The bully yelped in agony, Stuart blinked in surprise and Dean smirked in pride. He tried hard not to laugh as Chrissie gloated at her victory. Stuart clapped happily as the bully limped away and hugged Chrissie, and pecked her on the cheek in gratitude, blushing tomato red. Chrissie was no weakling that's for sure. She was a Winchester after all. Nobody dares to mess with them. Even at four years old.
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P.S
My next one needs your help. It centres on a hunt that has gone wrong resulting in injury. The question is….who will it be? You decide and get back to me on it so I can create the next chapter.