Chapter 6: Something that isn't Fiction

A/N: I actually cannot locate any evidence that what happens in this chapter does happen in real life, but oh well!

In addition to the £2 he received for his tooth, Harry earned himself an extra £1.50. For some time they had had a rule that the boy would get 50p every time he used a word of three syllables or more correctly in a sentence. After informing his parents that 'Santa is clearly just a form of coercion in order to control children's behaviour' he got his first 50p (for coercion, he'd learnt the word behaviour long ago), before moving on to complain about how he should have 'realised they were mythological creatures and not just magical' and finally declaring that he planned to 'hold a conference of his friends to reveal the truth to them'.

It was an exhausting effort, but they eventually convinced him not to do the latter. The discussion had gotten rather philosophical in parts, and eventually they convinced him that rather than an outright lie, it was really just a game of make believe – except played by lots and lots of parents with their kids, and he shouldn't ruin it for the children who hadn't figured that out yet. They told him it could be a test of his acting skills which could come in useful for the future, in case he wanted to be an undercover police officer like his Mum. By the time they finished it was getting late in France, and actually Alex was starting to drop off as well, which saved Richard from being kept 'on the line' for a telling off from Camille. He knew it wouldn't be long after she was back before she took the opportunity to berate him though.

Five past five in the morning. That was the time Harry hurled himself onto the bed and started jumping up and down encouraging Richard to wake up. Richard could have had at least another ninety minutes in bed, and couldn't understand why Harry was so keen to be up before the sun had even bloody risen.

"Got to get going on breakfast!" He was half yelling, as he continued bouncing on the bed. Alerted by the noise, he could hear Alex in the next room over whimpering and most likely working her way up to a scream if he didn't intervene soon.

Richard kept his eyes tightly shut, perhaps this was just a bad dream? "Harry, it is too early to have breakfast, why are you awake?"

"Because if we are going to have pancakes for breakfast, you will need extra time to get them ready so we aren't late. I'm being helpful!" He sounded like he genuinely thought that was true.

"But you don't get to pick what we have for breakfast Harry, you know that," Richard reminded him.

"Yes because of them, um, what was the law again?"

"The Legal Guardian Oversight of Childhood Nutrition Act, 2014," he rattled off. Of course there was no such act, but pretending there was had gotten Richard and Camille there way with meals for a long time now. He dared to peak at his son, who was looking more than a little suspicious. A couple of times already he had found Harry browsing the law books, after the tooth fairy debacle yesterday he wondered if the boy wasn't going to start questioning everything he was told.

"Yes, well, I know – but I am still allowed to make suggestions. And I am suggesting we have pancakes for breakfast. It has been exactly 15 days since we last did." He then paused, and with a dramatic sigh threw himself down upon the bed. "Also I suffered a terrible disappointment yesterday, and pancakes would cheer me up awfully."

Oh yes, his son knew how to guilt trip with the best of them.

Camille was the expert pancake maker in the house, there was no doubt about it. Before they were married, he'd never successfully produced one – they somehow ended up always scrambled up in the pan. He'd watched Camille produce them with ease, taking mental notes, until one day he was finally able to make one that was not a disaster. At that point he'd had no clue they would have a son who would love pancakes with an intensity like nobody else on the planet. Though perhaps he was somehow responsible for that – the first time he had made Camille pancakes was when she was heavily pregnant with Harry and craving them.

Harry sat at the kitchen table, drinking his juice and telling Alex how she shouldn't bother listening to Mummy and Daddy if they tried to tell her about the 'tooth fairy' or 'Easter Bunny'. Richard wasn't sure if this was Harry trying to continue to lay the guilt on, or the boy was being genuine in his desire for Alex not to 'fall for the deception'. He looked at Richard expectantly, and he handed over a 50p, though part of him was sure Harry had used deception previously. Or was it deceived? If it was, should they count as two separate words? With Harry's vocabulary expanding at an alarming rate now he was at school – it had been impressive before he started – that was probably a rule they should establish soon.

Richard was relieved when he flipped the first pancake over without incident. Harry had paused in his discussions with Alex to watch, and looked disappointed. "You know," he said seriously. "Mummy is a much better tosser than you!"

"What?" Richard asked sharply, certain he must have misheard.

"Mummy is a really good tosser. You aren't much of a tosser at all really."

After a few seconds, Richard realised that his son was not insulting his mother but actually referring to her skills at pancake tossing – he had just chosen a rather unfortunate way to express his admiration. Actually, it was pretty funny, and warranted going in the note book of silly things Harry had said since he learnt to talk largely in sentences.

He smiled at his son, "Well I apologise I'm not 'much of a tosser'. Perhaps once I have made enough pancakes to satisfy you I will have a go at flipping it up high like Mummy does, that way it won't matter so much if it goes on the floor!"

"Ok!" Harry agreed. "You know, I tell everyone at school how Mummy is a really good tosser."

This gave Richard reason to pause, "Um, do you use that exact phrase?"

Harry thought about it, "I'm not sure, maybe…why?"

"Well, it's just…" Richard had to think carefully. If Harry realised tosser was a rude word, he would stop using it – that wasn't a problem. The issue was Harry always wanted to know exactly what the rude word meant so he could understand why he shouldn't use it. "Technically the correct phrase is pancake flipping."

He was in luck, Harry simply nodded in acknowledgement. Richard reckoned if his son had been repeatedly using the word tosser at school the news would have reached him by now, so that was an incident avoided. He couldn't wait to tell Camille her son's honest opinion of her. He placed three pancakes down in front of Harry, who looked at him like it was some sort of meagre offering of gruel.

"Only three pancakes?" He asked, despondent.

The guilt trip was not going to get him more pancakes, not after the incident the previous Shrove Tuesday where Richard and Camille had decided to just let him have his fill for once. He had promptly gorged himself and been sick all over the bathroom.

"You know you'll only feel unwell if you have more than that. And you'll be so full you won't be able to walk to school! You have art today, don't want to miss that do you?"

Harry looked like he would be willing to miss art in order to consume more pancakes, and Richard thought he might have to pull out the fictional law again, but then his son just grabbed for the maple syrup and began applying liberally. "Alright that's enough," Richard said firmly, moving the bottle out of reach. "You're not supposed to drown the things in it!"

"Are you going to flip it high now?" Harry asked. Well, that is what Richard thought he asked – it was difficult to be sure when the boy spoke with a mouth stuffed full of pancakes and syrup. One looked was enough for Harry to get the hint. "Sorry Daddy."

"Let me just finish this one for Alex."

"But giving pancakes to Alex is a waste!" Harry cried indignantly. "She gets more food on the floor than in her mouth. You should let me eat it."

One of the many disadvantages of baby led weaning, though Richard supposed since Alex had stopped taking milk a couple of months ago she was fully weaned, so it was just a disadvantage of feeding a baby in general. "Well, it is her pancake to do as she wishes with! I don't let her throw yours on the floor so you can't eat hers." His daughter gave him a sweet smile when he placed the pancake down on the tray of high chair. He paused a moment to see if she was interested in eating it, pleased when she picked it up, much less pleased when she proceeded to use it to slap him on the arm with it. "Don't slap, Alex," he said wearily.

She just giggled and shoved a handful of pancake in her mouth. "Peas!" She said proudly. It was the only food word she knew, and so she tended to use it each and every meal irrespective of if that vegetable was on offer. Though, since they were her favourite, peas often did feature at dinner.

"Pancakes!" Harry corrected her. Alex looked at him blankly. "Pan – cakes," he tried more slowly.

"Peas?" She tried again. "Poofs?"

"I'm sure she'll learn the word soon, Harry," Richard told the boy, before he put any more effort into vocab lessons for his sister. "Come on, nearly time to flip the pancake."

Harry leaned forward expectantly, and Richard took a few calming breaths. It wouldn't be a disaster if it went on the floor, Harry and Alex would probably think it hilarious, possibly more entertaining than if he did flip it up high and catch it successfully. Concentrating, he flipped the pancake up higher than he was really comfortable with, and then took a couple of steps rapidly forward managing to just catch it. He sort of expected Harry to give a cheer, he did when Camille was successful, but instead his son said with a single raised eyebrow, "Yeah, that is better, but still not as good as Mummy."

"Oh." It had seemed really high to Richard, but now he thought about it the reality was it may have been mere centimetres higher than usual. Perhaps he should give it another try, and just really go for it. "Okay, let me put this aside and then I will do a really impressive one, ok?"

And that is exactly what he did. Decided to just accept the fact there was a 99% chance it was going to land on the floor, Richard flicked the pancake into the air with considerable force and then readied himself to catch it. Except the pancake did not hit the floor, but neither did it land back in the pan. Rather it had attached itself to the ceiling.

"IT'S LIKE DADDY PIG ON PEPPA PIG!" Harry shouted excitedly. "THAT IS AMAZING!"

Richard stared up at it and there was only one thing he could think of to say.

"I honestly thought that didn't happen in real life."