George was quickly coming realize that Roxanne's new favorite thing was dance. They had gone to visit Angelina's dad a couple months ago, and he'd made the mistake of leaving an old ballet on the telly. Roxanne had watched enraptured as the dancers had flitted across the stage. On the way home, she'd begged and begged to be allowed to take classes. George and Angelina said they'd think about it. Well, she'd asked every day after that if they would let her take classes. So, they had started to look for classes since this was something that Roxanne clearly wasn't going to give up on. She'd been enrolled in class for the last four weeks and refused to take her dance costume off unless they made her.

Now George was lounging on the sofa as his four-year-old daughter rambled on about 'plies' and 'en croix.' It was a little exhausting trying to understand French this early in the morning, but George didn't have the heart to tell her that didn't have a clue what she was talking about.

"And you gotta make sure you point your toes," she was saying. "Because you want your leg and foot to look as long as possible."

George nodded. "Ah." He dropped his head onto the back of the couch. "Where are you going?"

"Outside?" His son phrased his answer like a question, which never boded well.

"You wouldn't happen to be going to mess with your mum's broom after she told you to leave it alone, would you?"

"'Course not," he mumbled.

"You better not," George said. "If you do, it's your ass and mine in the fire."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered before slipping out the back down.

When he turned back to Roxanne, she was standing still, her arms crossed over her chest and a glare on her little face.

"What?"

"You're not paying attention," she said.

George bit his lip to keep from smiling. It was a bit hard to take her seriously. She was still a teeny thing and was absolutely adorable in her pink leotard and ballet skirt. She'd been unable to get Angelina to fix her hair in a tight bun this morning so her curls were flying all over the place from where she'd been jumping around.

"I'm paying attention," he said. "I swear."

"You don't even know what I was talking about."

"I do. You were talking about your foot and how it has to be straight."

"No, I wasn't. I moved on from that." The level of sass that his four-year-old possessed amazed him sometimes.

Angelina choose that moment to reveal herself, pushing the door to the kitchen open. She was wearing shorts today paired with one of his Wheezes shirts. It suited her a hellva a lot more than it did him. With raised eyebrows, she took in the scene before her.

"Where's Freddy?" she asked.

"Outside," George said.

Angelina hummed. "Where my broom is?"

"I told him to leave it alone."

"And you expect him to listen to you?"

Suddenly, George remembered where their daughter got her sass from.

"I'm choosing to give him the benefit of the doubt."

"That was kinda dumb," Roxanne said.

Both George's and Angelina's heads whipped toward her. She just offered a shrug in response. Angelina must have thought he'd been burned enough because she didn't respond and choose to sit down next to him on the couch instead of pursuing the subject of Freddy and the broom.

"What are you all doing anyway?" Angelina said.

"Daddy was ignoring me," Roxanne said matter-of-factly.

"I was not," George protested. "I was just distracted."

Roxanne rolled her eyes and launched into a speech about 'tendus.' George looked over at Angelina and shook his head, once again completely lost. Pointing her slippered feet, Roxanne started to push her right leg in different directions. A soft smile on her face, Angelina leaned her head onto George's shoulder.

"She's so cute," she whispered.

"Don't let her hear you say that," he muttered. "She wouldn't appreciate it."

Angelina glanced up at him then, an amused glint in her eyes. Merlin, she was beautiful. George asked himself on a daily basis how he got so lucky when it came to her. He'd like to think it was his glowing personality that drew her in, but it was probably just old fashioned luck that had brought her into his life and got her to stay. Unable to help himself, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips into her own.

"Ahem." They both glanced up to see Roxanne standing in the middle of the living room with her arms crossed again. "You are not paying attention."

George had no defense this time.

"What do you say we make pancakes?" Angelina said quickly. "Do you want that for breakfast?"

"Can I help make them?"

"Why not?" Angelina stood up and scooped Roxanne up, making a beeline for the kitchen. George supposed that left him to gather up their son.

With a groan, he pushed himself off the couch and headed for the back door. When he stepped outside, he didn't see Freddy anywhere. George walked around the corner of the porch to look at their shed. Sure enough, there was Freddy, his hand reaching toward the door of the shed where they kept the brooms as well as the cleaning kits.

"What're you doing?" George shouted, crossing his arms.

Freddy jumped and spun around. "I was just looking, I swear."

"Uh-huh," George said. "And I'm a green leprechaun."

Freddy's shoulders slumped, and he dropped his eyes to the ground. Digging his tennis shoe into the ground, he didn't say anything. George hated this part of being a parent. Discipline was never his strong suit, but it wasn't fair to put all of that on Angelina. So, he did his best even if it made him feel like a shitty human being afterward.

"C'mon, Freddy," he said. "Your mum is making pancakes." Freddy nodded. "And while we're in there, we can talk about getting you a broom."

"Really?" he said excitedly.

"Only if you promise not to go after your mum's again. Especially after I told you not to."

"I won't. I promise."