The Ugly Duckling: Or why Pasha doesn't like being called pretty.
“Papa. Story.” A four year old Pasha demanded, large book tucked under her arm that would have been much too advanced for any normal girl of her age, staring up at her father sitting in his usual chair in his study on the top floor of their family home. The girl was small even for her age with wide blue eyes and sandy blonde curls that Kata could never struggle straight. There was a large window that made up one of the walls of Andrei’s study, showing all of the night’s sky to anybody who cared to look for it.
“What’s this then Pasha?” He fondly asked, lifting the tyke up onto his lap. “The ethics and application of research methods.” He rolled his eyes and gave a little sigh, pressing a kiss to the top of the little girl‘s head, such an odd child, yet such a brilliant one. He was so glad she was turning out to have inherited the Chekov brains, she had her mother’s looks though with her upturned nose and clear freckles. Andrei had no doubt she would curse him when she was older for her curly hair though, which was completely his fault. “This again, Pashachka?” Her father sighed as the solemn little girl nodded her head. “Want this one.”
Andrei pulled the book from her hands, flicking open the well thumbed pages. “You must have read it at least twenty times, little one, wouldn’t you rather read something else? Here. We’ll read this instead.” He spun his chair to reach for a book from the pile of papers on his desk, setting down hers. It was meant to be age appropriate; The Ugly Duckling. Or at least it would be more age appropriate than the books the only Chekov daughter had been reading as of late. She was a bright child, that was for certain. But all this fixation with science at her age and blatant disbelief in princesses or fairies or even monsters was unnerving. She seemed to understand far more than she should have at her age.
“Ready?” Andrei asked as Pasha shifted herself comfortably on his lap to see the book and the words. She always liked to read along silently. “Once upon a time, there were a family of ducks.” Her father began, smiling at the girl’s rapt attention to the tale. The curly haired girl was drooping against her father’s chest by the end, sleepily listening to what he had to say except her face was now modelled into a frown. “Why did the ducking have to go back to the others Papa?” She asked with morbid fascination. “They were his family Pasha and they loved him.” Andrei patiently answered, waiting for the usual onslaught of questions that would follow.
“But…” The small girl bit her lip, thinking hard on how to put forward her point. “The duck was fine by himself. Why would he want to be friends with the others when they only liked him when he was pretty? That was mean of them. I would be smart like the duckling instead of pretty.” Pasha put forth, looking up at her father with big eyes as he burst into gales of laughter, tucking his daughter into a hug. He was partially glad she’d taken away that message rather than the intended one. “Pasha, my little one, you will always be a smart girl.” He announced proudly as her small arms wrapped around his neck. “My little duckling.” Andrei happily dubbed her, kissing her on the top of the head. "And now, it is time for all good little ducklings to be in bed, I think."
“What’s this then Pasha?” He fondly asked, lifting the tyke up onto his lap. “The ethics and application of research methods.” He rolled his eyes and gave a little sigh, pressing a kiss to the top of the little girl‘s head, such an odd child, yet such a brilliant one. He was so glad she was turning out to have inherited the Chekov brains, she had her mother’s looks though with her upturned nose and clear freckles. Andrei had no doubt she would curse him when she was older for her curly hair though, which was completely his fault. “This again, Pashachka?” Her father sighed as the solemn little girl nodded her head. “Want this one.”
Andrei pulled the book from her hands, flicking open the well thumbed pages. “You must have read it at least twenty times, little one, wouldn’t you rather read something else? Here. We’ll read this instead.” He spun his chair to reach for a book from the pile of papers on his desk, setting down hers. It was meant to be age appropriate; The Ugly Duckling. Or at least it would be more age appropriate than the books the only Chekov daughter had been reading as of late. She was a bright child, that was for certain. But all this fixation with science at her age and blatant disbelief in princesses or fairies or even monsters was unnerving. She seemed to understand far more than she should have at her age.
“Ready?” Andrei asked as Pasha shifted herself comfortably on his lap to see the book and the words. She always liked to read along silently. “Once upon a time, there were a family of ducks.” Her father began, smiling at the girl’s rapt attention to the tale. The curly haired girl was drooping against her father’s chest by the end, sleepily listening to what he had to say except her face was now modelled into a frown. “Why did the ducking have to go back to the others Papa?” She asked with morbid fascination. “They were his family Pasha and they loved him.” Andrei patiently answered, waiting for the usual onslaught of questions that would follow.
“But…” The small girl bit her lip, thinking hard on how to put forward her point. “The duck was fine by himself. Why would he want to be friends with the others when they only liked him when he was pretty? That was mean of them. I would be smart like the duckling instead of pretty.” Pasha put forth, looking up at her father with big eyes as he burst into gales of laughter, tucking his daughter into a hug. He was partially glad she’d taken away that message rather than the intended one. “Pasha, my little one, you will always be a smart girl.” He announced proudly as her small arms wrapped around his neck. “My little duckling.” Andrei happily dubbed her, kissing her on the top of the head. "And now, it is time for all good little ducklings to be in bed, I think."