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Rhys was already on top of the counter, stool knocked over on the floor as he had lept from seat to countertop in search of food. He wasn't supposed to be having a snack so soon, especially not before dinner. But he knew they were there. He knew the delicious sweet holiness was there, up in that foresaken cupboard.

Just as his little claws reached out to grab the box of cookies from the top shelf, up on his tippy toes, he heard it. He heard that sound he had been dreading.

Little bird~?

"Oh, no!" Rhys' eyes went wide as his arm was still extended, reaching for his treasure. How was he going to hide this? Or should he just let himself be caught? No, neither was really an option! He wanted the cookies, but he didn't want to get caught by his mom. What was he going to do?

He hadn't realized how much time he had wasted worrying and fretting over it, and as he slowly turned his head to check if his mom had approached from behind while he was panicking, Rhys hoped she wouldn't be too mad if he caught him.

"Y-yah mom ... ?"

"Why do we have to wait for theeeem?" Rhys flailed pitifully as he whined, dropping down in to his mom's arms as his little legs kicked. " I just wanted some yuummmiies, mooom!" clearly Rhys thought this would be a good enough explanation to get him out of trouble. One on the floor he gave a small huff, folding his arms over his chest, feathers looking ruffled. But as soon as she threatened to eat him, his eyes went wide and his pseudo prickliness evaporated, and when the second threat came his eyes went even wider. He had barely noticed the bop on his bottom as he was too horrified over the idea of being consumed by his own mother.

"Please don't make me clean!" he whined. "And please don't eat me! It's not a justifiable punishment, I tell you!"

Rhys had been about to back away and run so he'd never be found again. It would be much better than being served for dinner to his family, and as far as he was concerned, he was far too young to die. Even if his mom so readily wanted to cannibalize him.

Just as the boy had been about to bolt, Rhys' mom seemed to recede. He blinked, wary of her intentions, watching with careful eyes as she tossed the rag back in to the sink. What was she up to? What was she planning?

Rhys listened suspiciously, eyes narrowed at his mother as he waited to hear what horrors she had in store for him.

Instead ... what she had to say left the boy feeling surprised. That sounded rather nice, actually. Cooking with his mom. But. What would he have? what did he even want?

The boy crept closer, keeping a small amount of distance between his mom, as if afraid to get the hose boot again. "Stir fry? Or soup? Maybe macarooni and cheese with bacon?" he asked slowly, though as he listed more and more kinds of food his voice grew more bright and less cautious, and his tone more elated and ecstatic as his expression lightened again, mouth salivating. "Can we eat now!?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on it still. One day." the boy sassed. Rhys had just been about to scurry off with the noodles his mother had handed him as Cassie knowingly plucked him up from his feet and set him on the counter. The boy huffed, knowing his movements had been predetermined and just decided to deal with that fact that his mother knew best, and above everything else, knew everything anyways.

The hybrid boy reached tore open the package of noodles and peered down at them. Yah, funky was a good word for them. The boy scowled as he looked down at the spirally-green noodles. It was like a bunch of wriggling alien grub. But ... that also made it kind cool.

Rhys plucked a piece out from the box and popped it in to his mouth, crunching away on it and watching to see if his mom was paying any attention at all. He was just. So hungry. And clearly he was brave if he was eating live, uncooked alien grub!

Yes. He was brave.

"No." he said plainly, tossing another alien-noodle in to his mouth, talking around his food. "I always burn myself. But maybe this time will be different. But no promises."

Rhys took the spoon from his mother and wielded it bravely, slashing and slicing at the air as if their were enemies everywhere as he crunched on his alien grubs. His imagination had completely tuned his mother out.

"Have at ye, alien scum!" he cried as he swung the wooden spoon this way and that, leaning dangerously far off the counter, nearly hitting his mom with the spoon.

He had been so lost in his game of make-belief that he had hardly noticed his mum next to him until Cassie had reconquered the noodles from Rhys' sharp, clawed hands. "Heeeey ... !" he whined as he tried with all his might to keep hold of his snack. But instead, he lost the fight to his mom and pouted, turning and bringing his knees up on to the counter as he twisted around to sulk, plopping the face of the spoon in to the water as he poked at the spirals as they fell in, clutching his other arm over his stomach. It was better than getting burned. He wasn't really stirring so much as he was prodding.

The boy gave a soft sigh. "What?" he asked. He had kinda heard someone say something, but he wasn't sure who or what it was. Something about attention and getting hurt? It probably wasn't important anyways.

Rhys blinked owlishly as his mom disappeared across the kitchen. Where was she going? Was she leaving him? WAS SHE LEAVING HIM!? But he was home! He wasn't supposed to be left alone on his own, otherwise he was --- oh. Ohp, wait. No, she was just grabbing something from across the room.

The hybrid rubbed at his chest through his shirt with the wooden spoon she had left behind as he waited for his mom to come back, effectively staining his shirt, and hoping it would settle the sudden throbbing in his chest and head before setting it back down, forgetting to continue his 'stirring'. Any adult would see the boy likely had a touch of separation anxiety. Or perhap just anxiety. But in truth, the boy was just one of extreme emotions. Maybe he was just going to be an odd duckling and go through puberty a bit early in life. Who knew. Such things didn't exist yet to Rhys, and so every emotions felt true an genuine to him, and nobody else could ever tell him otherwise. And that was just that.

When his mom returned with the shaker, Rhys' slit pupils seemed to dilate with excitement, very much like that of a vespercat as he took the shaker and inspected it quite thoroughly, flipping it this way and that before popping the lid open and taking a good sniff.

It smelled alright. And so, with a shrug, Rhys twisted back around, twisted the lid off and shook the entire bottle's content in.

"Like this?" he asked with a big, goofy, clueless grin on his face much like Smolder's. "Am I doing it right?"

"Of course I know what it is, mom! It's a alien beater! And a stirring instrument! And also a soother! It has a lot of uses! I bet you couldn't name them all." The boy nodded his head, as if he was a thousand percent sure that he knew this to be the truth of the matter. "And that other thing was going to boost our energy! That's what green means! It means you're healthy! We have to be in the green if we're going to keep fighting aliens tonight! We can't be red. Yellow or orange is okay, but not red!"

Rhys stood there on the floor of the kitchen, placing his hands triumphantly on his little boy hips, head held high as if wearing his stain as a badge of victory. Yes, he had done well. He helped cook. He fought off aliens, all the while protecting his mom, heck, maybe even taught her a couple new ways to use a spoon! And his shirt had a cool new scar to show his dads when they got home. Yes. All in a day's work! There was much to be proud of.

"I can't wait to tell dad!"