The Little Drummer (Girl)

"I know what I want for Christmas this year," thirteen-year-old Jake Knightley eagerly announced at the breakfast table one morning.

Blythe raised a quizzical eyebrow at her older son. Christmas was a good four months away and she hadn't even begun to start thinking about Christmas shopping.

"What do you want, Jake?" she asked patiently, deciding to humour him. He was a good boy, after all – if there was something special that he really wanted, she'd try her best to get it for him.

Jake's green eyes sparkled. "Mum, I want a set of drums!"

Blythe's eyebrows shot up in alarm. A set of drums? She winced at the thought.

"Darling, are you sure that's what you want? Wouldn't you rather have... tickets to the footy or something like that?" she asked cautiously.

Jake shook his head with surprising vehemence.

"No, Mum. I've decided I'm going to be a famous drummer one day. And to do that, I'm going to need the drums," he said calmly.

"I've worked it all out. A guy at school is willing to give me lessons and I'll pay for them out of my allowance. I asked Grandma and Grandpa and all the aunties and uncles to give me money for Christmas instead of presents. I just need another fifty dollars."

"Absolutely not! Don't you know how noisy drums are, Jake? We'd have the neighbours ringing up and complaining about you disturbing the peace! I'm sorry. You can't have a set of drums."

Or at least that's what Blythe wanted to say.

But she made the mistake of looking into her son's earnest green eyes and she felt her heart melt. He had put so much effort into working out the best way to get the drums and she would hate to be the one who threw a spanner in the works...

Besides, what if he did become a famous drummer one day?

"Well, I'll have to talk to your father," she found herself saying weakly instead. "See what he says."

Jake grinned triumphantly. "I already asked him, Mum! He said it was okay... as long as it was okay with you."

Blythe groaned inwardly. She couldn't say no now, she couldn't be the bad guy.

"Alright, Jake," she relented. "You can have the drums for Christmas. But you owe us, son. You owe us big."

Jake grinned gleefully, jumping up and giving his mother an impulsive hug.

"Thanks, Mum!" he cried excitedly. "You won't regret it! I promise."

"Aww... you're welcome," Blythe murmured, touched by the unexpected show of affection from the teenager who thought he was too big for his mother's hugs most of the time.

She really hoped that she wouldn't regret her decision.

...

The day after Christmas...

"Does Jake like his new drums?" Elizabeth Woodhouse asked as she sipped her cup of coffee. It was the day after Christmas and she'd come over to the Knightley home with some leftover plum pudding.

As if on cue, there was a resounding crash followed by several booms, and Blythe rolled her eyes.

"I think that just answered your question, Liz," she said ruefully. "He loves them, much to my detriment. I can only hope he gets tired of them and moves on to some other hobby soon."

She looked enviously at her neighbour. "You're so lucky to have daughters, Liz."

"I am," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Izzy's a good girl, she never gets into trouble."

She began to bounce one-year-old Emma on her lap and the little girl started wriggling hard. She sighed and put Emma on the floor, where she began crawling around contentedly.

"I don't know about this one, though," she said with a worried sigh. "She's going to be more of a handful, I feel."

"Oh, but she's so cute," Blythe said with a smile.

She leaned over little Emma. "Say Aunty Blythe? Say Aunty Blythe, pretty please?"

The baby looked up at her and gurgled.

Elizabeth sighed. "Aside from Mama and Dada, she hasn't really said anything concrete yet. So I guess we're still waiting for some actual words to enter her vocabulary."

"Oh, she's still young. Don't worry about it too much," Blythe soothed.

"Oh, I'm not worried. After all, Izzy didn't start talking until she was almost three and now we can't shut her up!"

Blythe got up to pour Elizabeth and herself fresh cups of coffee. Her eyes lit up when she remembered some news that she wanted to share with her neighbour.

"So, Liz, did you hear that Terry MacDonald finally popped the question to Katie Singh last night?"

"No, I didn't!" Liz exclaimed excitedly. "It's about time! Poor Katie's been waiting for so long..."

They were so busy gossiping that neither mother noticed when one-year-old Emma tilted her head thoughtfully to one side and started crawling away.

...

"Yes!" Jake said excitedly as he brought his drumsticks down in one final crescendo.

He'd gotten his drums as an early Christmas present just a few weeks ago and had been taking lessons and practising hard since then.

It seemed as though the hard work was paying off. Maybe he was a little biased but that AC/DC song had sounded pretty good to his untrained ears.

Jake grinned and got up, stretching his legs. He decided it was time for a break... and a reward. A slice of Mrs Woodhouse's plum pudding should do the trick.

He started walking to the kitchen when he heard a boom!

"What the...?" he muttered, spinning around quickly. His eyes widened in alarm at the sight of the precocious one-year-old who had dared to touch his precious drum set!

"Emma, no!" he exclaimed, running over and scooping up the little girl. She frowned at him petulantly and opened her mouth, looking as though she was about to yell. Or cry. Or maybe both.

"No, don't cry!" he said desperately, but since when has anyone been able to reason with a baby?

The look on her face read 'I'm going to cry, Mister, and you can't stop me.'

"You want to play the drums? I'll show you how to play the drums!" he blurted quickly, resuming his seat, holding Emma on his lap.

"See, this is a drumstick and this is how you hit the drum," he instructed, showing her how to make a gentle bang.

She giggled as he handed her the drumstick and she brought it down... hard!

"Keep it down, Jake!" his mother called from the kitchen.

He groaned quietly. "You're going to get me into trouble, you know that?"

She looked at him sweetly and he felt his impatience fade. It was hard to be upset with a little girl, especially a little girl with dimples.

"Alright, now you need to hold your hand like this..."

...

"I'd better get going, Blythe," Elizabeth Woodhouse said regretfully, rising from her seat and giving her neighbour a kiss on the cheek. "Now where's my little munchkin?"

She peered under the table. "Emma?"

Blythe frowned as she too glanced quickly around the kitchen. "Where did she get to?"

"I don't know!" Elizabeth gasped, her face growing concerned. "Emma! Emma!"

"Not to worry, Liz," a smiling Blythe said. "I've found her."

The two women stopped to stare at a very surprising sight – a thirteen-year-old boy with a one-year-old baby perched on his knee.

This, perhaps, wasn't what was surprising – but the pair of drumsticks in the baby's hands sure were. With Jake's gentle guidance and encouragement, Emma was banging away at the drums to her heart's content... and enjoying it.

"Oh, thank you for looking after Emma, Jake," Liz said with a warm smile as she reached out for the baby. "I'm sorry that she disturbed your practice."

The teenager looked suddenly bashful. "No, it's alright, Mrs Woodhouse," he mumbled awkwardly. "She wasn't any trouble."

"Say goodbye to Aunty Blythe. Say goodbye to Jake," Elizabeth murmured, taking hold of Emma's little hand and making her wave goodbye to her neighbours.

"Bye, Emma," Jake said with a quick wave back.

The little girl grinned at the older boy and although she was in her mother's arms, she leaned slightly forward.

"Jake," she said distinctly.

"Jake, did you hear that? She said your name!" Blythe said excitedly.

Elizabeth smiled proudly. "You should be happy about that, sweetie," she said to Jake. "Your name is one of her very first words."

Although Jake hadn't said anything in response then (being a teenage boy, he was a bit afraid of those icky things called emotions), he did feel an odd sense of pleasure upon hearing Mrs Woodhouse's words.

And from that day on, every time he played his drums, he remembered instructing the little drummer girl and hearing her say his name for the first time.

Author's Note: OK, so I know it's not Christmas anymore, but I figured I'd continue with these stories anyway. Hope you're still reading and that you enjoy this one. =)

Virtual candy canes and thanks to Lady Dudley, iambbq, SkiCan, margaretelizabeth209, TheImaginationAddict, moonlight08 and Stephy-Lou-Clark-Weasley for reviewing the last chapter! xo

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