A/N: Apparently, when you get used to writing a lot again, not writing is hard. I'll be posting a few new drabbles ;)
Prompt: Etta wants to get a pet.
PET
Peter enters the house, arms full of groceries, just in time to witness the end of what appears to be a booming argument between mother and daughter.
Etta is already halfway up the stairs; she isn't climbing the steps as much as she's stomping. "You never let me get anything I want!" she shouts down at Olivia, who looks surprisingly composed, compared to their seven year old's fury.
She's leaning against the staircase, arms crossed, blinking calmly at her fuming daughter. "Why don't you go in your room and brood about how deprived you are while we get dinner ready?"
Etta's only answer is a glare Peter knows well –a perfect imitation of Olivia's, before she stomps the rest of the steps. Three seconds later, the house shakes, Etta having 'closed' her door.
Peter raises an eyebrow at Olivia, who simply shrugs. "She wants us to get a pet."
"Well, we've been talking about maybe getting a dog, haven't we?" he points out.
Olivia shakes her head. "No, Peter. She wants us to get a cow."