(no subject)
The saying was, ‘they grow up so fast’. Sybil had heard it a number of times in conversations with other mothers, with other breeders of swamp dragons, as applied to any manner of small creature. The original intention, of course, was that the phrase be applied toward children. It pained Sybil, how accurate it was.
Today was her son’s fifth birthday. When she had arrived on the island with him, he had not yet been two. Now he spoke, conversed, with the guests at his party- a smaller one than years past. He was lively and bright and cordial, and though Sybil was sure she was biased, not just for a five year old. He walked about with Errol behind him, confident and smiling and, she mused, unerringly polite. She hoped that didn’t bother his father too much.
She tried to imagine a similar scene on the grounds of their home in Ankh-Morpork, pictured the decorations, the Emmas tending guests. The guests. That's where things got a bit fuzzy. Surely certain Guild Heads would have stopped by, and certainly she would have asked Havelock along if only to get him out of the office, and the Watch would have been there. As guests.
Surely just as guests.
Feeling grateful for the Island was always pleasantly surprising. Even if it had made some things more difficult. Even if it had taken something from Sam, it seemed to have given him the chance to get it back again, at least. And end up with more, besides.
Sybil set a plate of sandwiches down, cut small for small hands, and poured some fresh cups of juice. The party was next to the playground, as it had been last year, because it was by far the most expedient way of giving the youngest guests means with which to entertain themselves and stay in easy view of their parents. 'A win-win', was the saying.
[Gathering post for friends and family and small children! It's Young Sam's 5th birthday, come celebrate.]
Today was her son’s fifth birthday. When she had arrived on the island with him, he had not yet been two. Now he spoke, conversed, with the guests at his party- a smaller one than years past. He was lively and bright and cordial, and though Sybil was sure she was biased, not just for a five year old. He walked about with Errol behind him, confident and smiling and, she mused, unerringly polite. She hoped that didn’t bother his father too much.
She tried to imagine a similar scene on the grounds of their home in Ankh-Morpork, pictured the decorations, the Emmas tending guests. The guests. That's where things got a bit fuzzy. Surely certain Guild Heads would have stopped by, and certainly she would have asked Havelock along if only to get him out of the office, and the Watch would have been there. As guests.
Surely just as guests.
Feeling grateful for the Island was always pleasantly surprising. Even if it had made some things more difficult. Even if it had taken something from Sam, it seemed to have given him the chance to get it back again, at least. And end up with more, besides.
Sybil set a plate of sandwiches down, cut small for small hands, and poured some fresh cups of juice. The party was next to the playground, as it had been last year, because it was by far the most expedient way of giving the youngest guests means with which to entertain themselves and stay in easy view of their parents. 'A win-win', was the saying.
[Gathering post for friends and family and small children! It's Young Sam's 5th birthday, come celebrate.]