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[iwhinny4dragons]

Sam was running in circles and laughing with the dragon Ray Kowalski had given him, as well as the real dragon they'd brought from home, on a lead tied to a tree. It was a lighter night than some of the jungle evenings had been, and not cool but at least there was a breeze

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[sir_samuel]

Vimes didn't sit still much, and he wasn't quiet very often. He'd blame it on the job, sure, but the fact of the matter was that he just wasn't very good at doing nothing. At what normal people* called relaxing.

Somehow, tonight, he'd gotten talked into it. It probably had a lot to do with Young Sam.

He had been leaning his elbows against his knees, but he sat up sharply as Sybil spoke. "What? Are you ser-" He watched Young Sam and blinked a few times. "Bloody hells."

When had that happened?

*Generally defined as not-coppers, though it sometimes got as specific as not-Sam-Vimes*

[iwhinny4dragons]

"A three year old," Sybil marveled quietly ,and then smiled over at Sam. "He'll be reading that book to you, soon."

[sir_samuel]

"Mmmph." Vimes blinked a few times more and shook his head. "Not sure how I feel about that." There was a beat, and then he added, perfectly serious, "There should be a law."

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Perhaps you can make one, dear," Sybil said, reaching over to gently pat his hand.

"Dragon-fly!" Sam called out, pointing to a large blue insect hovering higher up on a flowering, glossy plant.

[sir_samuel]

"Maybe I'll do just that."

He was still watching his son, couldn't keep his damned eyes off him. His son, who was almost three years old, and knew words like dragonfly, and was running around all by himself. Gods, he could've sworn it was only the other day that Young Sam couldn't walk.

[iwhinny4dragons]

"I've also noticed he's becoming much more proficient at proclaiming things in the name of the law. I wish I could get him to be so enthusiastic about saying his numbers," Sybil said, starting to stand when Young Sam tripped and fell onto his hands and knees. He pushed himself back up, though.

[sir_samuel]

"S'not my fault," Vimes protested automatically. "He's been practicing that all on his own. Action figure and all."

"He's a natural." And Vimes smiled.

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Sam Vimes," Sybil said sharply, which startled a nearby spotted jungle hen and sent it running, "he is not even three years old."

She would not, of all things, no matter how understanding a woman she may have been, let her husband plan out her child's career as a Watchman. Possibly ever.

[sir_samuel]

Vimes sat up sharply. "I- I didn't mean-" He sighed. "Gods, Sybil, I wasn't serious." Not entirely serious, at least. "S'not like I'm, y'know, planning anything."

"Besides, this isn't Ankh-Morpork."

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Mmmn-hmmn," she intoned neutrally, looking back at their son. It was a way of digressing without budging an inch and she was a professional at it.

"He has years and years before we need to spend even a moment considering what he'll do."

[sir_samuel]

"And I said I wasn't doing anything of a kind, didn't I?" Vimes muttered, though it was only half true. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't help but hope, dream a little bit of his son following in his footsteps, as bloody stupid as they were.

[iwhinny4dragons]

"You said, yes," said Sybil, who knew damn well just how frequently and to what degree coppers meant what they said.

"He's getting to be better friends with some of the other children. It's fascinating, how at a certain age they start to actually related to others their own age."

[sir_samuel]

Vimes didn't answer immediately. They were weird, these moments where the two of them sat together, Discussing Young Sam. Not so many years ago the idea of having a son, let alone talking about his life and his future, would have left a tired, drunken Sam Vimes laughing. Pull the other one, it's got bells on it. Even back home today they would not have had time to sit down and be a family.

Be a family. Hells.

He blinked a few times. "Mm, yeah, I noticed that. Not long before the lot of 'em are causing trouble, I'm sure."

[iwhinny4dragons]

"I'm glad he has the friends he does," Sybil said, smiling at the idea. "I couldn't have handpicked better at home. Em and Sunny- they're such sweet girls." Not to mention their families were good, grounded people who Sam could get along with, which was a bonus.

[sir_samuel]

"Sunny's a little troublemaker," Vimes grumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his eye. 'Little troublemaker' was not necessarily a point against her, even for a cop. "But better than the snotty brats he would have had to make friends with back home. Gods help him." He made a face.

Now there was one thing he would never have to think about now - his son making friends with a bunch of rich brats. Or at the very least, rich brats who acted like it.

[iwhinny4dragons]

"You mean rich people's children?" Sybil said with a tinge of dryness, then reached over and patted his knee.

"They don't all turn out so badly, you know. Our son, for example." Every once and a while Sam needed very gentle reminding that as much as he hated the upper classes, his wife and son were one by heritage, even if Sam only was one by marriage and a duchy pronounced upon him entirely against his will.

And furthermore, that that was okay.