The Fourth Most Glorious Twenty Fifth

[iwhinny4dragons]

There was makeshift canopy stretched out over the grass by the playground. Beneath it were some chairs for grown ups. There were a lot of fruit tarts and crispy, fried rice-things and then, of course, there was one larger cake. It had a dragon on it. Not a real one, though, Errol had surprisingly little interest in cake given his intense

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[forged_hero]

By now, it's tradition.

...tradition, thought Moist, which is another word for uncomfortable things people do, generally in uncomfortable clothing mostly because they've done it before, and what the hell, everyone needs a good reason to kill and drag local greenery inside and put shiny things on it...

Shiny things. Moist's suit was now a little less glittery, having softened into a bronze chrome that, if it did not ding! perkily, it certainly have a trying twang!. There was a tray of things beside him - top hats, hankies, scarves - he did not hold extremely high expectations of the show. Four year olds were worse than theater critics and generally had better aim

[iwhinny4dragons]

Young Sam ran up to greet Moist with a half-suspicious but charmingly polite expression, then got distracted.

"....Does he dance?" he asked, staring at the betutued pug with a slightly perturbed expression.

[forged_hero]

"He is my lovely, charming assistant," Moist said as Fusspot went over to enthusiastically greet the birthday boy.

"He does not dance. However, he does...vibrate across the floor if his toy's been wound." He snapped the cards from one hand to the other. "But...aside from Fusspot's varied talents, what would you like to see, young master?"

[kingshit_lloyd]

The birthday magician reminded Lloyd so much of old Lost Wages that he was surprised the guy didn't have a flashing neon sign attached to his forehead. And the little sideshow dog was creepy, but it had just enough of the trainwreck appeal - in pink, no less - to keep Lloyd staring despite himself.

"Nice suit, buddy," Lloyd commented, feeling like he needed to say something. "It's, uh, real Elvis."

[polly_okeefe]

I was a bit more nervous than usual for this party. I knew the hosts, of course, but I was on a completely different set of terms with them. I was one of young Sam's teachers. They were, basically, my employers. And the chief of police, and an aristocratic (though decidedly kind) lady that made me want to be on my best behaviour and dress up more than I usually do for these sorts of occasions.

But it would have been rude _not_ to show up. And I hope that young Sam would be pleased to see me. Before I got my glass of mango juice, I went around and did my greetings.

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Miss O'Keefe," Sybil said, greeting the young woman with a warm smile. To be honest, having Polly as, essentially, a private tutor for her son suited Sybil just fine- it was how it would have been at home, and she'd quite rather have it that way, especially since it in no way detracted from the amount of time Young Sam spent socializing with the other children. There was also the added bonus that after the time with the private tutor was done, Sybil wouldn't have to worry about him going off to boarding school.

"Thank you ever so much for joining us. I'm sure Sam will be thrilled."

[polly_okeefe]

"Thank _you_ for inviting me, um... ma'am." I almost said 'my lady'. Ms. Ramkin-Vimes was very casual about that sort of thing, but that didn't mean I could be casual about it. "I'm glad to attend. Where I come from, the fourth birthday party practically a rite of passage. Can I help with anything?"

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Is it?" Sybil asked, more interested than surprised, but now curious nonetheless. She hoped she hadn't underdone something Sam would remember as being quite important. She'd never spent much time with children beyond her own son, so the intricate ways of birthday parties and toddler rites of passages were relatively unknown to her.

"I'm sure not, dear, these things generally take care of themselves. It's all much easier when there's no formal meal to organize."

[callofkaren]

It was a little weird going to a birthday party thrown by Barbra Streisand, but Samantha knew Sam Vimes (who wasn't Sam Crew - what was with all the kids named Sam?) in the way that kids knew other kids, and Karen told Jim and Pam it wouldn't be much trouble to take her to the party.

She was sitting down for the moment, one eye on Sam in the seat next to her. They each had their own slices of cake, and the most Karen could hope for was that Sam didn't completely ruin her clothes as she dug into hers with enthusiasm.

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Hi, Sam!" young Sam said, beaming a the littler girl and leaning up to see how she was getting along her with her cake before rocking back onto his heels and offering Miss Karen a smile as well.

"Did you know there's three kids with our name?" he asked her.

[callofkaren]

"I did," Karen said, leaning forward a bit, elbows resting on her thighs. "And I know all three Sams now."

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Yeah, me too," Sam said and then, because it was polite, "thank you for coming to my party."

[sir_samuel]

Vimes always had mixed feelings about these parties. He had mixed feelings about most parties, but especially about this one, the one that fell on the twenty-fifth, his son's birthday. The trouble was, it wasn't just his son's birthday. It was also the Glorious Twenty-Fifth of May, the anniversary of the downfall of the short-lived Republic of Treacle Mine Road, where he had seen friends die and an ideal crumble. Whenever this day rolled around, he always felt sure that some god somewhere must be laughing at the irony.

But if the worst day of his life have fallen on May twenty-fifth, the best day of his life had, too. And it was the latter they were celebrating today. He may have had a purple flower for remembrance in the buttonhole of his shirt (not lilac, but close enough), but he had a piece of dragon-shaped cake. And he was smiling just a little as he watched his four-year-old son greet his many guests.

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Da," Young Sam said, reaching up to catch at his father's hand, his mother a few feet behind him and smiling.

[sir_samuel]

"Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you'd gone and run off to." Vimes scooped up his son into his arms. Young Sam was big enough to stand perfectly well on his own - and was getting harder and harder to pick up, too - but he didn't care. He was happy to let the habits of babyhood linger a little longer.

"You liking the party your mum's put together for you?"

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Yeah," Sam said, looking around it thoughtfully, smiling, and gave a small affirming nod, "it's a good party."

[single_digit]

"I should warn you," said Eddie, watching where his daughter was over with her mother, gleefully getting cake in her hair, "that Emmy picked out Sam's present herself, without any help from us. So if she gives him a rock or a beetle or a T-shirt with an obscene slogan on it, I apologise in advance."

[iwhinny4dragons]

"You know," Sybil said, "we've still the moon rat dear Dr. Maturin gave Sam one year. After that, I'm not entirely sure anything could shock us." She hesitated, eying the wrap job Emmy seemed to have perpetrated against the gift.

"Although if that happens to be one, I'm quite sure it will have suffocated under the paper and tape. So perhaps a dead moon rat will elevate our present standard of odd, insofar as presents go."

[single_digit]

"She promised me it wasn't something living," Eddie assured her. "I made her promise me that. Well, I made her promise me it wasn't a puppy or a snake, anyway. It could still be a beetle. Or a plant. Come to think of it, she was playing out in the garden the other day...."