Rose felt lured by the offer to go on the picnic. She most definitely wanted to ride Puddles today, and Thomas seemed so keen on the idea of riding out with the horses. She watched with a careful eye as the sweethearted boy prepared plates and cutlery from her place at the counter. Her stature had denied her of some much required water, it seemed. Her daughter would definitely require a refill as well. The boy meant well, but his imagination and inner world was so thoughtful and creative, Rose couldn't find the heart to ever correct his eccentricities.
Rose's attention turned to Alistair and Conor as they left for the barn. Her round face, glasses, and mannerisms had always been compared to an owl by her peers and family. She couldn't help but be watchful of the people she cared about. She had always kept in close contact with her more wild sided brother before he passed, with phone calls and messages. Ricky rarely responded, but when he did, Rose would squeal in excitement, hugging her husband tight as if she had just received a Christmas present. Each letter would end with a similar statement, telling Rose to 'seize the day' and 'try for some adventure, just once'. The truth was, Rose was a very timid person, and cried at the thought of any kind of change. The fact that such polar opposites could have been raised in the same household was a marvel to many. Her heart was in the home, and Ricky's heart had never found one.
Over the noise of the kitchen Rose heard mention of her name, causing her head to bounce up. She turned to her daughter, who was giving her a heartfelt thank you. Her eyes widened a little, a mixture of surprise and joy. It wasn't that Alexia was a prickly person, but Rose wasn't used to such straight forward, heartfelt statements from her daughter. Perhaps the pregnancy was messing with the girl's emotions. Rose herself hadn't had a straight forward pregnancy herself. The entire nine months leading up to her birth had probably been hell for David, with constant mood swings, an enormous appetite, and irrational behaviour from his wife. And, of course, the few months after the pregnancy was a dark spot in Rose's memory, forced out and forgotten.
Rose made the noise that all parents make when their children says something sweet. "Oh honey," she said in a drawn out voice, placing the knife down and motioning towards her daughter for a hug, "thank you so much. I love you, sweetheart." She bent down and hugged her daughter tightly, closing her eyes to keep from crying. "Of course, work," she managed after a few moments, wiping her eyes and moving back to her cutting station.
"Maybe I will go for the picnic," she mused aloud, turning to her husband. "You don't mind, do you? I promise, we can have a real, actual date soon, not just a supermarket romance." Rose winked to David before turning her attention to the vegetables. There was a single pepper to be cut, and then they could be added in with the eggs. She made short work of it, having been well-versed in kitchen work her entire life. Her mother had taught her all the tricks, and in turn Rose had taught Alexia. Alexia had always loved the kitchen, even when she was little, helping Rose prepare meals and overusing her personal Easy-Bake oven. Rose slid the cut pepper into the bowl that already brimmed with vegetables, placing it next to the stove for Alexia's use, before turning to the sink to wash her hands. She swiveled the faucet handle towards her, but no water made an appearance. She wiggled it around several times, muttering "oh bother" under her breath. Thomas had just been using it to pour water, and it had been fine.
"Tommy, sweetheart," Rose called out, bending down to opening the cupboard that revealed the sink's innards, "did you do anything to the sink?" her tone wasn't accusatory, simply concerned. Not being particularly well-versed in plumbing, this frustrated her. She always wanted to be the one helping, never the one being helped.
Not finding anything tell tale of a problem, Rose closed the cupboard with a small sigh. Conor would have to look at it after the milking. It probably wasn't a serious issue, just a mild inconvenience. That sink was somewhat old, after all. The bathroom sink probably would work just fine, though Rose didn't want to leave her family at the moment. Vegetables did no damage to a person's health, she mused. She wiped her hands on the towel hanging around the oven handle and waited patiently for Thomas' answer.

_________________

His father’s words of wisdom tickled his ear, causing Thomas to pause what he was doing and admire Conor’s beaming, fatherly smile. “Bribed by food?... I can understand that, especially with Ma and Grandma ‘round,” he giggled, fluttering his fingers to wave off the adult as he moved away to retrieve milk with Uncle Al. Various conversations continued behind him as he finished up with setting the table, not really focusing on the details of their words but rather enjoying the sounds as a whole; a muffled comforting clutter of background noise. Alexia’s voice stood out for a second as Thomas overheard the mention of her sewing another sweater for him. It always amazed the child how practical of a mother she were, in fact, even the children at school seemed stunned when he would tell them how his favourite jumper for school was composed by her. He could almost feel his own mother’s love through her handmade cloth made especially for him, sincerity weaved through the needle and in turn, binding the child’s insecure heart. Such clothes came with memories; the soft hum of Alexia’s lips as she worked, the smells of fresh materials amongst the distinct scents of farm... His own lucky charm. As if he didn’t feel like the luckiest kid on earth already.

Something sentimental could be judged from his mother’s sudden change in tone, followed by Grandma’s sweet croon. It was enough information to produce a small smile on his lips - whatever it were about, a unique warmth filled his chest that only family could draw from within him. Finished with his breakfast chores, Rose called out to Thomas, catching him before he had the chance to slip away. He spun around on his toes, tilting his head at her puzzled look. “... What’s wrong with it, Gran?” He parted his lips in contemplation, picturing the steps he took to the sink beforehand in his mind, as he made his way to Rose’s side. “I didn’t do anything?... I think?.. Uhm...” A look of concern furrowed his brow, falling quiet for a moment to stare at the cupboard as he realised he couldn’t provide anything useful towards the small problem. “I’m sorry, Grandma, I don’t know,” he looked up at his elder’s patient expression apologetically, well aware that it wasn’t really his fault per se, but silently concerned that he could not do anything to assist. “I’ll ask Dad ‘bout it,” Thomas noted in an attempt to help, zooming away as a fun thought raced passed his mind. Running along the trail that Conor and Alistair took to the milk room, Thomas heard the distinct, soft voice of Uncle Al and beamed.

“Attention, father duck and Uncle Al!” Thomas raised a palm into the air, a young announcer’s voice chiming from him like a public service announcement as he looked to their backs in the middle of them working, “When you return, could you look at the sink? It may or may not have gotten busted from my powerful water-pouring skills. Vegetables are at stake!... Okay, that’s it, I’m going back now, later!”

He wasn’t sure if they heard him or not, but nonetheless, he buzzed back to the kitchen with a laugh and a hop in his step, sitting promptly onto the counter chair. He propped his arms onto the table and observed the rest of them cook, fixing his glasses up to his eyes. His small act gave him hope that he served at least a tiny bit at use here. “Message sent,” He sheepishly told Rose, rolling his tongue playfully to form the sounds of a bird, or rather, a messenger pigeon.

_________________

Conor was enjoying the walk down to the barn. He always did after all. It was the peaceful quiet. The lovely still air and the slit nip of cold morning. He could never get enough of it. He knew Alistair wasn’t big on the farm life and tried to respect that to the best of his ability. He tried to be a big brother to Alistair and show him that he’d always have a place here no mater where he went. Conor wasn’t concerned when Alistair didn’t answer him. He was used to it. Alistair preferred silence to speaking so he let the matter lie, figured he’d just be a silent companion as they made their way.

Once they reached the barn Conor smiled and looked over the equipment in the room. “We can milk them later on, maybe even tomorrow morning. We can gather the milk from the storage tanks in the back equipment room. It will take less time. If you talk half the bottles and I take the other half we can have this done in no time,” Conor said as he got everything ready. Taking the box back to the cool room where they kept the large machines that stored the milk and processed it for pick up. Conor had done this so often he didn’t even need to think about it. He set everything up for Alistair to be able to fill half the bottle and left the box with him taking six of the dozen bottles in his arms he went to the next set of large containers and settled himself down to work. They might be a small farm, but with the cattle they had they managed quite a nice haul of milk for the stores. Conor had helped set this equipment up to help generate more money for the farm a few years back and knew it inside out. He could fix it if it broke down and always handled the trucks that came to pick up the milk once a week, usually on a Tuesday. He typically did most of the milking, but he liked to get help every now and then since it made the process faster.

Conor paused in his work as he heard his son’s voice and looked up to see Thomas in the doorway. He smiled at his son and would have laughed it hadn’t been something he knew would make Thomas feel he wasn’t taking him seriously. He bit his lip slightly to keep from laughing at the cuteness of his son. it wasn’t that he found it funny. It was that it was so cute and adorable that it brought laughter to his heart. “I’ll have a look at it as soon as I’m in. Reassure grandma that it’ll be taken care of.” He said seriously before he watched his son walk away. He gave a gentle chuckle and returned to his work. He was certain that Thomas hadn’t caught his words, but would have no doubt at least heard enough to know his message had been delivered and acknowledged.

Since the machines were mostly automatic it was fairly simple to fill the bottles up once they were set up. The old fashioned bottle were a remnant of the old way they used to milk the cows, but Conor liked them a lot. It was so much nicer to have reusable bottles to that garbage you had to throw out and it cut down on the garbage the household produced. Conor was one of these types of man who liked things simple and reusable. He hated to waist. By the time he’d settled down to filling the bottles he was already whistling a tune and enjoying himself. In no time he had his six bottles filled and was heading back to Alistair to see how he was making out. Certain the lad would have finished before him he set down his bottles and waited for Alistair before heading back to the house together.


Once he re-entered the kitchen he went straight to Rose and gave her a light hug. “What seems to be the matter with the sink?” he asked her so he could know how to look into it. Being the handy man of the house he always ended up fixing the little things that seemed to break. It always made him feel more of a part of the family and he loved it. He loved being able to fix things and knowing exactly what was wrong. It was a gift and it made up for his inability to read or write.

_________________

Alistair nodded at Conor's instructions and began putting the milk into the containers, it wasn't a hard job, and nor would it take very long for them both to do it. There was something about this though, that made him think of his dear mother and father, he did often allow his mind to wander. He was just daydreaming, remembering the time they'd gone camping and had a picnic... he could still remember how his mothers fresh baked brownies tasted. His stomach let out a low grumble and he realized how hungry he was becoming. Alistair was almost half way done when Thomas came running into the barn, seemingly to make an important announcement. He couldn't help but think how sweet his nephew actually was. Once he'd delivered his message and bounded back in the direction of the house, Alistair couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle. There was something about that child, nothing seemed like a chore to him but simply an adventure.
Finishing up putting the milk into the bottles, he put them in the box and made his way out to the front of the barn where Conor was already waiting. "Sorry to keep you" he muttered and tried to put on a half smile, but today was just one of those days where he really missed his mother and father. Everything seemed to remind him of them. He tried shaking the feeling and putting it out of his mind and wondering what breakfast would be like as his stomach let out another gargle. Alistair sighed and continued walking. Once he'd gotten back to the house, he kicked his shoes off, them hitting the wall with a soft thud and padded into the kitchen with the box of milk.
"Where'd you want these" he asked, no one in particular.

_________________

Three rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

Rose watched Thomas zoom away after her questioning. She had assumed he wouldn't know much about the problem, but the fact he was so eager to help in any way he could pleased her. The little boy had been raised well. People who grew up on farms always seemed to be the most practical, helpful people. Rose was obviously biased in this thought, being a farm girl that had grown up around other farm girls and boys. The most she knew about the city came from cheesy romance movies that she forced her husband and daughter to watch with her. The movie would always end with her reaching for the tissues to stem the flow of tears from her eyes, Alexia picking her nose absentmindedly, and David staring off into space, contemplating the mysteries of the universe itself. Rose saw potential in Thomas as a movie buddy, if he could sit still long enough. She would convert him, surely.

Thomas returned more quickly than Rose had expected, chirping happily at being so useful. "Thank you very much," she chirped back with a grin before Alexia took him under arm. Rose then turned to Conor, reciprocating the hug and getting down to business. "I'm not quite sure," she let her words trail after one another, "it just stopped working. Thomas was using it fine earlier. I gave it a look-over and nothing seems broken or missing, if that helps. It's probably nothing, anyway." she didn't sound so sure of herself. The house was old, after all. However, it functioned for what they needed, and she couldn't imagine living anywhere else. She truly loved David, but the idea of moving to a heavily populated city made her queasy, and lonely.

Despite the anxiety that the sink malfunction brought to her, Rose maintained an air of calmness, moving over to the table to adjust the cutlery and arrange napkins in a pleasant manner. Alexia spoke from the kitchen, giving an excellent suggestion as to how Rose could join them at the picnic. "Your phone," Rose said, motioning with one hand for David to give the object to her as she continued to prepare the table. She took the phone, and wrote in a list for the specific items Alexia requested, as well as including a few things of her own. When it came to the fabric and wool, it seemed as if she had written a paragraph of instructions under each. Alexia had most of the textile talent in the family, but Rose at least had the keen women's eye when it came to finding colours and patterns that worked. She returned the phone to David and gave him a quick kiss before sending him out the door.

Rose noticed Alistair hovering near the door again, this time laden with a box of milk bottles. "Put it in the fridge for now," she motioned, moving back into the kitchen. She noticed that everyone looked hungry, herself included. Sidling up to Alexia, she glanced at the stove. "How are we doing in here?" she asked. "Seems like everyone's hungry this morning."

_________________

Seeing Grandma in approval of her grandson’s actions effectively graced a wave of relief over Thomas’ freckled complexion. He had always viewed Rose with a sense of respect and a source of wisdom; the sort of practical knowledge that Thomas felt he could trust when his parents weren’t available. It complemented Grandpa’s primarily academic teachings nicely, he felt, enjoying their different methods of teaching in the past and appreciating their different perspectives on topics that somehow worked together like a jigsaw when put into practise. But then again, wasn’t that what family was supposed to be like? If everyone were a puzzle piece, they weren’t much without the support of their Lao, Lowell and Smith counterparts. Fitted together, it could be said they created the perfect image of unity, a farm, a place of order and belonging...

Thomas secretly hoped that in his simple analogy, he were a top corner piece. Those pieces are awesome.

Alexia soon approached him, equipped with another kind-of-embarrassing-but-admittedly-sweet hair ruffle. In the moment that Mother spoke to him, he pressed his head into her palm softly, raising his head to glance at her humoured face. A grin tugged at his mouth in response to her words; he deeply enjoyed receiving fun nicknames as much as he did liberally giving them out to people... And besides, seeing Ma happy never failed to please him; something that at this age, he couldn’t really explain. It just did, y'know?

Click went the back kitchen door as Father and Uncle Al returned with the prized milk. Still sunken into the kitchen stool, Thomas turned in his chair to see them enter. Hearing his dad ask about the sink made the child smile. It was good to know that his frantic message actually came through, making the rest of the family’s praise actually worthwhile. This was the sort of mentality Thomas had concerning tasks, whether it be at school, home or otherwise: compliments or kind words weren’t valid unless his performance was acceptable. Harsh, it may seem, especially now when it was just a matter of delivering a message, but perhaps it were merely a product of working hard and being strict on himself. The only thing he didn’t worry acting upon was sleeping, ironically enough. To be lazy yet proactive was a battle Thomas found hard to balance out.

Thomas followed after Rose as she sent her husband outside. “Be safe!” He chimed, a phrase that the boy always said, and always needed to say, before someone left the house. Little fingers waved him off before he skipped back to the kitchen and sat back into the stool to watch the family go about the room. His mouth moved open unconsciously, excited to see Alexia about to pour egg mixture into the pan. Yes! Glancing over to Alistair, Thomas, out of courtesy, motioned towards the young man and patted the stool beside him. Was it just Thomas, or did his uncle seem a tad down this morning? The man usually was reserved in nature, but he seemed to be clouded with thought today. Maybe it were just the anticipation of wanting to eat food. Whatever the case, Thomas brushed it off, having faith in Alistair to talk to the family if ever he needed help.

“Seems like everyone’s hungry this morning,” Rose commented, and to that, Thomas clasped his hands together and confirmed the notion; “Yup!”

_________________

Conor couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at his wife’s joke. It was the running joke about the appliances and old things he kept in working order around the house. Conor hated throwing anything out and liked to fix everything. It was almost an obsession. He would fix it before replacing it and only if the thing was so far gone he had zero way of fixing it did he relent and allow them to buy a new one. It was just his way. One he was glad was accepted by the family so openly and something he hoped to teach his son.

Conor leaned down under the sink to have a good look and gave a little chuckle as the problem presented itself to his eyes. “It seems like everything under here looks good,” he said as he cast his gaze around at the pipes and touched it to make sure there was no water leaking out, which there wasn’t. He rose up from under the sink and tried to turn it on, nothing happened. Frowning at it he turned it off again and undid the end of the foset. “Ummm,” he said as he pulled the screen out, “seems the screen got clogged up again,” he finished. Taking the screen in his hand from it’s resting place and turning on the tap to run water. The jet of water was much thicker then it usually was and stronger. He rinsed the screen and turned the tap back off. Reset everything and put the sink back together, “there we go,” he said. Turning it on to it’s normal running water once more.

Turning back to the sink Conor washed his hand before taking his regular seat at the table. He sat next to his son Thomas on one side and his wife Alexia would sit on the other side of him. He always did enjoy sitting with his family. “I’m definitely glad for breakfast this morning,” he said with a genuine smile.

_________________

Alistair nodded and proceeded to put the milk bottles in the fridge. It was pretty obvious, but he hadn't really been with it today. He needed something to take his mind off things before the rest of his family began to think there was something wrong. He smiled up at his nephew and took the seat beside him politely. He watched what everyone was doing as they filtered in to the table and took their seats. He listened to everyone around him, and tried to ignore the look his sister gave him like she was wanting to ask him something, but was then more focused on the breakfast that was sat in front of them.
Alistair picked up his fork and slowly cut a small bite size piece off. It smelt rather lovely, he could see all the contents inside and he began pulling them out, so they were set out separately on the plate. It was always something that made him feel uncomfortable was food wrapped around more food. It seemed excessive. As he dissected his omelet, it felt almost natural again. He took the small piece he'd broken off earlier and brought it to his mouth. Softly blowing on it to take off some of the heat, then putting it in his mouth. It was warm enough, but not hot to the point it was burning his mouth. The flavours burst in his mouth, and he began to slowly and politely chew. He also had another thing, which was chewing every mouthful 12 times before swallowing, he felt that made his digestive system work better.
He slowly made his way through his plate of food, occasionally glancing around and seeing how everyone else was doing. There was one thing he hated though, and that was the sound of each person chewing. It just made him angry and annoyed and he didn't even understand why. Of course, he knew it was wrong to say anything at the table so kept it to himself. Clearing half his plate he began to get that full feeling, he decided that was enough for breakfast and thirstily drank the glass of water that had been by his place almost in one gulp. Now he was done with his breakfast. He sat at the table though, refusing to leave until after everyone else was done, even though he had finished before most of them.

_________________

Three rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

Rose's attention was turned from her daughter back to the sink and her son-in-law as he delved down under the cupboards. She rested on the counter, biting her thumb lightly as Conor fiddled with the faucet, then finally retrieved the clogged screen. "Oh thank goodness," Rose muttered with a relieved sigh, ruffling her hair. She couldn't stand the idea of getting outside help to fix things such as plumbing and electrical problems, especially since it usually ended up being such a simple issue. Money was another issue. They weren't financially strained in any way at the moment, but house maintenance didn't come cheap. Again, Rose was pleased by the fact Alexia had married someone useful. Alexia was practical, aspects of it coming from Rose's own personality, and other bits being wholly her own.

Rose remembered why she had needed the sink, and gave her hands a quick wash. She flicked the water off her fingers, wiping the last bit of moisture off on her pants as she headed to the table which, thanks to the joint effort of Thomas, Alexia, and herself, was fully set and laden with food. She sat herself at on of the heads of the table, the kitchen to her immediate right, and Alexia on the chair to her right side. Alistair sat to her left, and normally her husband sat at the other head of the table facing her, but since he was out the chair was empty. "I suppose we've made extra, since David left without eating. Silly goose." Rose felt bad about forgetting to send David out with at least a piece of toast to tide him over. The absentminded man rarely listened to his body, since he was so focused on the potential of his mind. Rose hoped he would have at least enough sense to pick something up at the store to eat, hopefully not fast food. She wasn't overly religious when it came to eating right, but being a farm girl, the idea of overly processed food disgusted her. When she could have fresh eggs, milk, and meat right on her own farm, what was the point of getting ground up day-olds?

Rose looked down at her omlette and clasped her her hands together to pray. It was more a habit than religion, but it always felt good to Rose to be thankful as often as she could. She thanked God for the meal, their home, her children, and sent a quick prayer of safety to her husband. Lowering her hands she grabbed her fork and began slicing the omlette neatly, pleased with how it had turned out. Alexia was a good cook.

As she ate, she watched her family with a keen mother's eye. "This is good Alexia, thank you," she said before taking a sip of her water, which she suddenly remembered had been filled by Thomas. She would have to go to the sink later to fill it a little more substantially. "You know," Rose pointed with her fork in a factual manner, "I've heard that eggs are good for pregnant women. Full of protein and vitamins." As she took another bite of her omlette, her focus turned to Alistair. He had always been a...peculiar eater. Not expressly picky, but he liked things his own way, and didn't often completely finish a meal unless it was his favourite foods. Rose herself almost always cleared her plate, sometimes slower than most. Many times she had eaten an ice cream cone too slowly, causing a mess as it melted before she even got halfway.

Finishing her omlette, Rose rested her chin in her hands and watched her family eat, a small smile on her face.

_________________

Everyone gathered to their seats and Thomas gave an internal cheer, giving his parents a friendly poke on the shoulder as they settled to either side of him. “I’ll volunteer to eat Gramp’s portion, this looks amazing,” he joked as he observed their plates (but secretly wasn’t joking, omelettes were the best). Unlike Alistair’s methodical process as he ate breakfast, Thomas had a more instinctive approach as the early hours of the morning livened his wits, coupled by the fact that the family had made him his favourite breakfast food. Taking his piece of omelette and bread, he eagerly shoved the toast to his mouth and chomped as big of a mouthful as a kid could muster. “Mm~” He hummed happily to explain how amazing it tasted, rosy cheeks brightening in appreciation. The taste of creamy fresh eggs and flavourful produce were truly distinct, incomparable; how thankful he was for being brought up in such a lucky household! Sure, he may have had more chores and obligations at home than the average ‘three-quarters-‘till-nine’ year old child attending his school, but from what he had learned being a farmer’s boy, seeds didn’t reap themselves. And besides, it was just too fun to be considered a chore!

Two bites in and already nearly done with his first slice of toast, he took a break to drink some water after realising how fast his keen hunger had made him eat. It was then that he took focus away from his meal and piped up to involve himself in the conversation. “Really? Well, that’s good - I wonder if it’ll be a new brother or sister,” he smiled, nursing his glass side to side in thought as Grandma brought up the topic of Ma being pregnant. Living with an extended family and socialising in large numbers since he was born, Thomas never really understood how some people enjoyed being alone and having only their own private space all the time. The more the merrier to share his eventful days with, he thought - what could be better than good company to share his thoughts with? Whoever the new child would turn out to be, Thomas couldn’t wait to be an older brother as much as his mother loved the idea of raising multiple children. Judging by the personalities of everyone who slept under this same roof, a great attitude pretty much ran in the family genetically anyway. They were quite simply the definition of a perfect family, it seemed.

“So we’re really going on a picnic later? The weather’s looking good for it,” Thomas commented between bites of his breakfast, this time around a little calmer after his appetite had started to settle. The area in which their farm was situated in was a great environment that hosted various picturesque countryside forests and rolling hills of green land. One day, he hoped, he would be skilled enough to travel by horseback along such lush terrain and around the farm, just like his Gran. Well, maybe not that great, but he did find the idea of such a fun bond between human and animal companion really interesting. There was just something about the inherent symbiosis and care of the organic world that technology could never compare or simulate. Cars may not poop, but they didn’t nuzzle and sense your feelings like fauna could. With that in mind, he leaned his head against his father’s arm for a moment, bringing his eyes to the kitchen window.

_________________

Conor leaned back in his seat watching his family. He loved food and always enjoyed the meals he had with them. Though he had always been rather quiet around them at first he'd warmed up very quickly and most of that was due to his wife and her gentle teasing. Much like now as she sat down and began eating. Conor watched her with love filling his gaze not really touching his food yet as he sipped at his coffee. He had never dreamed this day would come even though he had wished it with all his heart for as long as he could remember, he simply didn't think a man like him could have a family like this to call his own. It made his heart race and fill with love to be here with them. He was the luckiest man alive. He had the best son anyone could ask for. The best wife a man could desire and soon another small one to love and add to his family. He had a brother and a father and mother now too. He had never thought that possible. He really felt as though he had won out in life and lived in a heaven richer then any he'd ever dreamed possible.

Laughing he put down his coffee cup and started eating, "love you are the only being alive outside of my son who could eat from my plate and not get their hand bitten. Though I might just have to lick the juice from your fingers if you did that!" he teased back with a wicked smile curving his lips.

Ruffling his son's hair Conor smiled, "finish what's on your place first and then you can have some of grandpas, but you have to share if anyone else wants seconds how's that sound?"

With that he started eating. He felt no need to inspect the food he was eating or really to even look at it. He loved his wife and mother's cooking and would eat anything they set before him. Really he was a man of simple needs and enjoyed the simplicity of his life to no ends. Chewing thoughtfully as the flavours of the omelet hit his tongue he smiled happily at his wife. "You and mom have outdone yourselves!" he declared and fell into silence to enjoy the rest of his meal. He loved to listen to the banter and conversation flowing around him and would chime in some times, but he preferred to listen. He loved to be surrounded by his family and was perfectly happy to be silent and a part of their family. It also took him time to think and mull over important information before he could say something on it, which had given the impression he was slow when he had been younger, but it was simply in his nature to think important things through before speaking of them. After all words couldn't be taken back. He knew that better then most.

He ate through his meal at the same pace he always did. Finishing up his place and his toasts in relatively quick timing, but slow enough that he could enjoy everything he tasted. He always did love the preserves the women made from the barriers that grew at the edge of the woods. Something he enjoyed taking Thomas to pick and gather and Alistair when he was in the mood. Sometimes Rose and Alexia would join him too and even some rare times David would come. When the whole family went those were the best times he could remember of picking the ripe berries. Conor had so many memories like these that they always made him feel warm and happy. Content.

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Rose smiled at Thomas' cheery comment about the baby. As the grandma, she always gave the "I just hope it's a healthy baby" response, but internally Rose hoped for a girl. But knowing Alexia, the little girl would probably turn out just as wild as any boy of her's would be. It wasn't that Rose didn't have her moments, but her personality was much more subdued than that of her daughter. When Rose had been pregnant with Alexia she thought she must've been a boy, with the way she kicked at her stomach wildly in the last few months of pregnancy. Whenever David had put his hands on Rose's stomach he would draw them back quickly in surprise, amazed that a woman's body could take that much force from the inside. He knew plenty of history and philosophy, but often daily things like that would amaze her husband more than anything he could learn at the university. On the thought of David, Alexia's comment about him rushing off was fitting. Rose nodded in agreement.

Turning to Thomas after taking another bite of her omelette, Rose spoke. "It's very nice out. I'm sure the horses will love it, if you're interested?" Thomas had a soft spot for all the creatures on the farm, including those of the equine variety. Sometimes he was too soft when riding, and Rose would have to coax him to pull on the reins or give a big kick to get him on the right track. She always assured him that it didn't hurt them, just got their attention, but it seemed he preferred being dragged through bushes by a sneaky horse than to even think of 'hurting' his horse, Perry. On especially gentle-handed days, Rose would take Perry to the corral just to make sure that she still knew the rider was boss. If Thomas was to ever go round up cattle the traditional way, he would definitely need to grow in that sense. Of course, with many other animals his gentleness was extremely valuable, like with the chickens. He moved quickly but calmly, and made adorable little clucking noises to put them at ease. A few years back a fox had managed to get into the chicken coo, and Thomas had been devastated.

At Conor's compliment at their food, Rose lit up. He was always quick to appreciate anyone's cooking, even the disastrous meat pie Rose had made a few years previous. She had accidentally added the wrong spice to the meat, and though everyone to the day still said it had been fine, Rose knew they were just trying to spare her feelings. Even David, a bumbling liar, managed to keep from slipping up.

Rose raised a comical eyebrow at Alexia's joke, before turning to Thomas for his response on Alexia's baby-gender question. She wasn't sure what he would say; he was such a spontaneous, imaginative child.

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Face pressed against his father’s shoulder, Thomas straightened his head back up with a smile at Conor’s teaching. “Okay, Papa duck,” was his wry response as he busied himself with finishing off the rest of his plate. Communal peace flushed over the room like the calm back-and-forth tides of the ocean, each family member content and happy with friendly conversation and good food.

Seemingly following Pa’s example with the hair ruffling, Ma soon did the same and Thomas couldn’t help but snort, reaching up to hold her hand to his head for a little bit longer, so that he could observe her reaction at his words. “Ma, I hope it’s an alien! That way they’ll be super advanced with a computer-brain and I wouldn’t have to do their homework!” Sandwiching Alexia’s digits between his noggin and his hands on his head, a loud bubbling sequence of a laugh erupted out of him. He released his grip on Alexia as he went to drink and chuckle into his glass of water. Downing his glass, he noticed Grandma looking his way and cracked a smile towards her. Maybe he should give the question a second thought, as to answer them properly. “Hm, I don’t really mind, though, but most gals at school can sing better, so maybe it’d be fun to have a sister. I’m really bad at singing, so it’d be nice to have a nice voice pair my violin. What’s the word? Acc… Um… Acc-om-pan-i-ment?”

His cheeky grin loosened to a softer, thoughtful smile as he looked down to his plate. Being the bumbling aspiring musician, Thomas, like most children, did contemplate the ‘sparkling future dream’ in which he could stand on a stage and perform amongst the company of an orchestra, or even a quartet, to hundreds of people! The warm lights, the sharp sound of the wooden tap, tap, tap of a conductor’s baton against the empty hall - even if Thomas had to commute back and forth from the farm every day just to play, there was no denying him of his passions. At current, the boy was quite versatile. From simple classical themes to homely fiddle country tunes, with enough time and determination, he wasn’t too shabby of a sight-reader for his quarter-sized violin. Perhaps he would take it to the picnic to practise in the open air.

Directing his attention back to Rose, Thomas nodded at her words. “Yeah, let’s bring them! Perry seems to be more friendly towards me lately. Or maybe it was the apples,” he breathed in a laugh. Grandma, being amazing with her horses, was a great teacher, also providing Thomas with the practical life lessons of assertiveness. It was because of her that Thomas tried not to get so bothered by bullies at school anymore. Just like the farm horses, you had to be patient, but also tolerant and assertive to guide them the right way. It was hard, but with his grandma’s wise advice, something to work on.

Stuffed and chuffed with breakfast, he relaxed into his chair and sighed happily. “Can you refill my glass, baby?” Ma’s turned face filtered through his glasses and Thomas nodded. He made his way to his feet, taking both his and her drinking glasses towards the kitchen counter.

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Rose laughed lightly at Thomas' choice. She had expected something imaginative and amusing, but aliens? The thought of aliens and birth suddenly made Rose think of a dreadful scene from a movie she had once accidentally watched and grimaced. It definitely hadn't been a romance movie. She didn't like anything where anyone died, unless it was a dramatic, poignant death that pulled at the heartstrings and was, though Rose wouldn't say it, just a little bit hammy.

Thomas appeared to be pondering the question again, this time considering the physically achievable outcomes. Again, his reason for the answer he gave was adorable. Rose was a girl, and wasn't the best singer, but still gave her all in group karaoke. Thomas' talent with the violin was unique to the family. There were a few who had dabbled in the guitar, or was in band in high school, but none with the level of enthusiasm Thomas had for it, and at such an early age. She was very glad it was such a sweet-sounding instrument and not some big brass thing that bellowed and shrieked. There were occasions where it would make an unfortunate noise, but Thomas would quickly stop and chastise either himself or the instrument, Rose could never tell. He had a quick ear either way. Rose tapped her finger on her cheek. The violin Thomas was playing now was a starter violin, paid for and insured by the school. Maybe for his birthday or, amusingly, Christmas as well, his gran could get him a nice instrument of his own. She would have to start looking into quality and prices. Where would she even buy one? Finally, something the all-magnificent general store couldn't provide.

"The horses love your treats, Thomas," Rose said, taking her plate and walking over to the sink, "just don't give them too many or they'll end up like Bentley!" Bentley was their undeniably overweight donkey. They had put him on all sorts of specialty diets, put a muzzle on him at certain times to keep him from grazing, but nothing seemed to work. The veterinarian had said his weight wouldn't kill him, so eventually they decided to keep him as he was. He was usually seen tottering around the horse fields, or occasionally they would have him watch the cattle if there was a wild animal warning.

Of course, feeding the horses apples wouldn't make them like Bentley, but it would make them spoiled to have them all the time.

The breakfast plate was rinsed before being put into the dishwasher. The dishwasher was a newer appliance, but still finicky. It had been unloaded the night before, so Rose's plate was one of the newest additions to the machine, besides the water glasses of the farmhands who had passed through even earlier. Thomas came up beside her to fill Alexia's water glass. Rose gave him a side glance from behind her owlish glasses before speaking. "Do you want to help me and Conor saddle up the horses?" She asked. Rose knew that she would be riding, as well as Conor and Thomas, but she would have to ask Alistair if he wanted to before they left. She thought he enjoyed the quiet company of the equines, but wasn't completely sure. Alexia was the only one who couldn't ride, because of her pregnancy. That was one thing Rose had really missed during it all.

Alexia excused herself from the room, and Rose's head turned quickly. It was a phrase Alexia used whenever she was overwhelmed and needed to get away, and it had been happening more frequently with her pregnancy. As much as it was against the fiber of her very being, Rose avoided following her daughter. When Alexia wanted to be alone, it was best to give her all the space she needed.

During Rose's pregnancy, she had been similar in emotional randomness. After the babies were born, it was two different stories of two drastically different women. Rose had always wanted another baby, but she felt that she shouldn't. All of the missed meals, missed days, medication, crying... it made her feel trapped just to think about it. A twinge of jealousy flared up in Rose's heart, something she hadn't felt in quite a while. Alexia handled it so much easier, like it was nothing at all. She had been happy, over the moon, looking like it was effortless to be a mother when Thomas had been born, and now the same would happen with the second. At times in the past when Rose had watched Alexia play with or feed little baby Thomas she left the room in a mixture of anger, revulsion, and self-pity. It wasn't a hate directed at Alexia, or sweet little Thomas, but her own body, her own mind, fighting against her craving, her desire to be a mother. Rose's smile became a tiny bit strained as she busied herself in clearing the table and getting ready to go on the picnic.

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Light laughter caught up to Thomas’ little joke, translating into a wry smirk across the boy’s face as he walked over to the kitchen counter. Did Ma truly mean it when she said a possible sibling wouldn’t mind singing with him? He wasn’t nearly as good at the violin as the musicians he looked up to, and this felt frustrating to him at times when his little digits couldn’t stretch to the right tabs, but Mrs K mentioned music was a craft that one slowly learnt for their whole lives and took time with. Additionally, he was pleased that the family supported him with his passions, letting him take the extra curricular music lessons at school. Even when he was just starting to learn a new piece and all he could make for an entire day or two were those weird, short, unpleasantly clanky melodies, they were very patient and encouraging. A couple of qualities that they had further brought within the boy himself, for their love was very contagious. Maybe even worse than boy cooties. Heh.

Souzie, a girl at school, played the piano. Now and again for the past few months, they had passed by each other to attend separate music classes next door to each other - her, a pretty, freckled face like a map of stars, holding tales of city life and flashy concerts before she moved to the countryside and attended his local school. It felt as though the whole world knew how much his initially shy nature wanted to chat to her more, as at current, they were actually working on a song together for a group project. It was a simple yet charming arrangement of Canon in D to suit both of their instruments; if they were good enough, they could even perform it at the next assembly! They took to duetting with each other like homemade butter to the family’s bread. The family must’ve noticed his sudden burst in enthusiasm for usually monotonous practises, for a day hadn’t gone by lately until he excitedly tried to perfect his side of the performance.

Humming the slow duuuun, duuuun, duuuun of Canon in D to himself while filling the glasses, the tune broke momentarily as he scoffed lightheartedly at Grandma’s Bentley comment. “Yes, Gramma Duck; poor Bentley,” he mused. The donkey was still rather charming with or without the weight, but it was rather uncanny how he still managed to keep it on after so many weight loss methods. Perhaps some things were meant to stay strong built. “And I’d love to help saddle ‘em! Dad’s strong arms will serve as my legs, eh?” He looked his father’s way with a chirp. Sometimes the boy worried that the horses would step on him, usually asking his dad to pick him up and save the trouble of trying to catch the creature’s attention himself. Either way, Thomas knew today would be a fun day for riding.

Two filled glasses on hand, he skulled one, popped it into the dishwasher, and before his mother could completely leave the kitchen, he tugged lightly at her sleeve and offered her the promised water with a quiet nod and a smile. On the way back to his grandmother, he took a spare finger of leftover toast and slid the piece into his mouth, taking his empty plate and whatever plates had been cleared back to dust off and pack away for washing.

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Conor took a moment to give his son a brief hug while he rested his head on his shoulder. He loved these tender touches and moments of companionship with his family. They made him feel wanted and they reminded him how much his life was different now. He hardly thought of his past anymore. He had everything he needed in this one room. A family. When Thomas started talking to his mom Connor returned back to eating. Though he did listen into their conversation with a light laugh at his son's antics.

Conor was far too practical a guy to understand things like imagination and creativity. Yes he could fix just about anything. He was not however an artist. He had no bones in his body for any of it. Outside of the fact he could sing decently well, and carry a good tune. He was no where near musically talented like his son. He was a working man. A hands on kind of guy who did not do books or really anything that involved sitting still. He had far too much energy and not enough of an attention span for any of it. He always marvelled at where his son could get his talents from. His wild imagination and vibrant ideas. It was definitely something that always took Conor by storm.

Conor knew that Alexia wouldn't be riding in her state. Or at least he assumed she wouldn't be. He didn't actually know without asking her. He wondered though if he should join the riding. It was a dilemma. On one hand he absolutely loved to ride. On the other he wasn't sure he wanted to leave his wife all alone. He just didn't know what he should do. He would ask Alexia before they headed out if she would mind him riding or would rather have him stay with her. She would tell him honestly. She always did. He loved that about her. He had just been about to open his mouth to ask her when Alexia left the table. It would have to wait then.

Conor watched with worried eyes as his wife left the table. Her 'needing fresh air' a cue for I need space. He'd learned that lesson. He prided himself on being able to learn what others needed around him. So he stayed sitting at the table and watched her leave. He'd go after her if she didn't come back after a little bit. For now he'd respect her need for space and time alone. After all he himself often sought alone time. He just hoped she wasn't upset over something he didn't know about. He didn't like not knowing things. It always upset him deeply whenever secrets were kept from him.

"You bet," Conor responded to his son's comment. A bright smile curving his feature. He loved to teach his son how to saddle the horses and would gladly do so today. He always found it a fun exercise. "I'll even give you a piggyback ride to the barn if you like," Conor offered. He always did enjoy playing games with his son. He was strong and his physical strength made some of the harder tasks easier for him. He might not be good at boardgames or most imagination games, but he was good at sports and always enjoyed lifting his son. Or tossing him over his shoulder to throw him in a carefully constructed giant pile of leaves. When Thomas took his plate he gave a smile and thanked his son for doing it. "Thanks Thomas," Conor said brightly as he watched his son take the plates back to the sink.

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