012 • VIDEO
[Her kitchen is a mess.
But she cooks when she's stressed and she's certainly a bit stressed and the - the child is not, perhaps, precisely as neat as she would like, but that is all right. A little mess is no trouble, really. And the child - Liam, he says, short for William - Liam doesn't seems to enjoy messing up her kitchen well enough.]
Um. [She scrubs absently at a bit of flour high on one cheek.] What, exactly, is one expected to do with a child for a prolonged period of time? I am afraid that the majority of my experience with children - if one could even call it experience, seeing as it is rather limited - has been rather brief. And I imagine that things are different when the children in question are alive -
That - that is not to imply that I would prefer him to not be alive, just -
Momma? [There's an insistent poke of little fingers to her side and she jumps, spins for a moment so that the back of her head is to the camera, pale line of shoulders and messy, early-morning bun still in place.] Yes, sweetheart? [Correction, she's found, is met with very swift (and very loud) resistance. Even when supplemented by the very logical assertion that she had never had children.] Can I have the mixin' spoon?
Oh! [She looks rather surprised to find the spoon in her hand in the first place.] Yes, of course. You may mix - but I do not want it on the ceiling this time. [There's a snicker from the shorter party, blue eyes wide and guileless under brown curls. And she most certainly does not bite back a smile of her own, no matter how tempting it might be. She is resolute. Really.] I am certain that it is terribly funny, but I cannot reach the ceiling to clean it up. And we do not want bugs.
We don't? [She hands over the mixing spoon very primly, fingers briefly alighting atop the boy's head.] No. We do not. [The boy wrinkles his nose, pouting slightly.] Why?
Because I do not want to have to call the exterminator. [He looks momentarily intrigued, eyes lighting up and leaning forward curiously.] Is that like a Ghostbuster?
I, um - I have no idea, actually?
[The child seems to lose focus on the line of questioning quickly enough, snagging one of her hands and tugging, chattering excitedly about 'chok'late chips'. She manages to swipe her free hand behind her just long enough to quickly click off the video feed.]
But she cooks when she's stressed and she's certainly a bit stressed and the - the child is not, perhaps, precisely as neat as she would like, but that is all right. A little mess is no trouble, really. And the child - Liam, he says, short for William - Liam doesn't seems to enjoy messing up her kitchen well enough.]
Um. [She scrubs absently at a bit of flour high on one cheek.] What, exactly, is one expected to do with a child for a prolonged period of time? I am afraid that the majority of my experience with children - if one could even call it experience, seeing as it is rather limited - has been rather brief. And I imagine that things are different when the children in question are alive -
That - that is not to imply that I would prefer him to not be alive, just -
Momma? [There's an insistent poke of little fingers to her side and she jumps, spins for a moment so that the back of her head is to the camera, pale line of shoulders and messy, early-morning bun still in place.] Yes, sweetheart? [Correction, she's found, is met with very swift (and very loud) resistance. Even when supplemented by the very logical assertion that she had never had children.] Can I have the mixin' spoon?
Oh! [She looks rather surprised to find the spoon in her hand in the first place.] Yes, of course. You may mix - but I do not want it on the ceiling this time. [There's a snicker from the shorter party, blue eyes wide and guileless under brown curls. And she most certainly does not bite back a smile of her own, no matter how tempting it might be. She is resolute. Really.] I am certain that it is terribly funny, but I cannot reach the ceiling to clean it up. And we do not want bugs.
We don't? [She hands over the mixing spoon very primly, fingers briefly alighting atop the boy's head.] No. We do not. [The boy wrinkles his nose, pouting slightly.] Why?
Because I do not want to have to call the exterminator. [He looks momentarily intrigued, eyes lighting up and leaning forward curiously.] Is that like a Ghostbuster?
I, um - I have no idea, actually?
[The child seems to lose focus on the line of questioning quickly enough, snagging one of her hands and tugging, chattering excitedly about 'chok'late chips'. She manages to swipe her free hand behind her just long enough to quickly click off the video feed.]