(Untitled)

[dracolicious]

As a rite of passage, Mother decided it was time that we and the birthday girl enjoyed a leisurely spa weekend, to mark the occasion of My Angel turning the ripe old age of seven. I hadn't been dragged along to the spa since before my first year of Hogwarts (or, in other words, the age when I finally found a sense of shame by cohabitating with

Comments

[boywholives]

Oh come on, a month of birthdays is excessive even for you...

[dracolicious]

Nonsense, Potter. In my opinion, the entire nine month stretch from conception to birth and beyond ought to be celebrated, but I felt that might be confusing for the rugrats.

[boywholives]

You're mad.

[dracolicious]

Your point being?

[boywholives]

You don't see me as anything more than the family chef, do you? Here to bake cakes and fry up bacon every time you snap your fingers?

[dracolicious]

That isn't true! For your information, I also see you as my bedroom slave.

[boywholives]

Oh. Well that's alright, then.

[dracolicious]

I thought so, too.

[boywholives]

We can go and see Frederic tomorrow, okay?

No, he can't sleep here tonight.

Because.

Just because. Why don't you and your brothers work on that puzzle, okay?

[dracolicious]

Bugger it, not again. And we didn't see this one coming because . . . ?

[boywholives]

Because we're clearly not as smart as we thought.

And as you are the smarter person in this parenting relationship, I blame you.

[dracolicious]

I fail as a father, then. And as the substitute father figure of wayward orphans.

[boywholives]

We should probably relieve the house elves from Emmy's torment. They probably look like five sickle whores by now. I curse the day your mum bought her that make-up kit.

[dracolicious]

Five Sickles is awfully generous of you.

[boywholives]

Everyone has to make a living.

[dracolicious]

Potter, if you could find someone who is actually willing to part with five Sickles for a round or two with those elves, I'll put them out on the corner right now.