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She was probably certifiably insane.

The best thing about being blind is that you didn't, at least, have to see people's expressions; Thwomp couldn't give her that much detail. It had been a normal shopping excursion (with, as usual, her familiar trying to get her to buy humbugs; he had sulked on her shoulder for ten whole minutes when she got him a small packet of marshmallows instead, which were at least easily masticated and didn't leave a frangible sea of hard candy fragments all over her pillow).

Buying the little pot of baby food organic mashed bananas was one thing, and something Beatrix could pass off as being prepared for the worst (why she categorised it as 'the worst' was not a good idea; she constantly chided herself to redo it as 'the inevitable'). But as she quickly scribbled her mail order off for her new set of books from the Foundation for the Blind - she hated 'talking' books, they were too slow and she always argued with the delivery - she ticked off a book she hadn't even meant to really tick off, not really, only then it was in the mail and she was home with her shopping bags and sitting on the bus bewildered at her decision.

It only took two days for the thing to get there; she dropped it like a hot rock at the bottom of her book-pile and carefully filed the things into her bookshelf. More than ever she liked everything to be where it belonged and everything to have a place to be a thing in its place in, but she left the one book loose out on the table; in final consternation, she gave the cabbage its usual drink of water and spray-down and set it out in the warm thin sunlight again before sitting down.

"I find this talking-to-you business pretentious and a waste of my time, rosal de Jericó," she told the cabbage wearily. "Though you have some better measure of awareness than most plants, and don't spend all your time on transpiration. I'm sure this embarrasses both me and you."

The cabbage didn't respond; Thwomp rolled around on the table that she had placed it on, probably denting the polish. Thankfully, Saturday was Polishing Day. After a number of rattling circuits and bumps around it, he flew back to Beatrix again.

She cleared her throat and opened up the book; traced the name on the front with her fingertips. "Without further ado; Chapter One, The River Bank. 'The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on latters and steps and chairs...'"

It made her feel better. She had no idea why.

Beatrix Darnell awoke, fairly irritated, to the feeling of Thwomp tugging on her hair.

He had managed to get a fairly large chunk of it in his mouth and was pulling as hard as he could get, mainly netting both mistress and familiar aggravation and the familiar long blonde strands of hair in his mouth. He was making teeny-tiny "ptooey!" noises, which Beatrix would have probably found really very funny if it wasn't three in the morning. Something was obviously up; there were the same shivers running up and down her nervous system that she got when Thwomp wanted to warn her about something, but when the dim magical blueprints of the room swam into view she could see no immediate danger. Thwomp also seemed excited rather than worried; he jumped around in his sugar-water and made little splashes everywhere before deciding to do cartwheels up and down Bea's bare thighs. She yelped loudly, adjusted her nightshirt and fumbled around for her slippers by the bed. At least she didn't have to worry about fumbling in the dark.

Hand over her mouth, yawning hugely, Beatrix reflected that she really was not going to get to go back to sleep. She padded her way into her neat little kitchen, Thwomp acting entirely silly all the time, and flicked on the kettle in order to boil water for tea as she grasped for the teapot. Then, yawning - with Thwomp just getting sillier and sillier, trying to grab her hair again - she walked into her sitting-room to check on the cabbage.

The blueprint of the room flashed over and over in her head: and Beatrix didn't need to see every detail to know that the cabbage had, in fact, entirely changed - heard the pulse of the heartbeat through Thwomp, the singing rhythm of something being alive, rushing over to close the gap to take the slumbering child in her arms. And then Beatrix got really frightened; because the shape of Jacob-Jacoba - Jacoba, it was a girl - was all wrong, she read her little face with her fingertips and Jacoba hadn't any legs. She sat down on the couch and had a really good panic as to what doctor clinic she was going to call until the cabbage-baby decided that this was really not on, and chose to wake up and howl like a banshee.

"My God," said Beatrix, a little stunned. "You could double as an air-raid siren."

The baby went entirely red in the face and yowled harder. Beatrix got over her shock and privately held a congratulations party for herself that she was so prepared; Jacoba was deposited into the crib behind the sofa as Bea made her way over to the Emergency Cabbage-Baby Kit, popping a Milton tablet to sterilize water for the bottle as she darted about with formula. Jacoba shrieked in aggravated fury at being left alone, possibly about to have a coronary at the tender age of half-an-hour, until it abruptly stopped. When Beatrix rushed in with a bottle of formula Jacoba was gumming interestedly on the ear of a bunny toy that had been put in the crib, and was hungry and satisfied with the bottle. Thwomp, pleased that he had finally been able to communicate the problem to his mistress, bounced around in mid-air.

Beatrix, for the first time, felt a bit bereft: Thwomp's magical link to her didn't work the same way as human eyes did. Her fingers told her that Jacoba had a little soft face with a pointy chin and soft short hair, but she didn't know what colour, and she was wearing something made of denim - and a little shirt, soft and cottony. Jacoba's fist clutched around the sleeve of Beatrix's nightshirt as she sucked at the bottle, teeny-tiny fingers, and Bea's hand kept on cupping the smooth curves of legs that ended in just stumps. She had done something wrong, she thought dimly, she hadn't looked after the cabbage properly.

"I am not ready to be a mother," Beatrix confided to Thwomp. Thwomp didn't answer.

It was a beautifully sunny day; Jacoba had complained ceaselessly about having to wear a little terrycloth hat to protect her from the sun (and had been lathered mercilessly with SPF 900000+ anyway; Beatrix supposed redheads had very high burn times, like her own pale self) but had cheered up at getting to be out in the fresh air. She had also cheered up at getting to go in the pram, which was not usually used due to her ability to escape from it.

Beatrix Darnell herself was in a fairly good mood despite everything; she was dressed casually (for Bea, which still meant a nice demure pantsuit and not a hair out of place) and Thwomp had rested in the broad brim of her straw hat, hiding in the ribbon gumming himself up with a Skittle. She stopped at the front yard of the pink semi-Victorian eyesore and shaded her eyes out of pure habit, since it wasn't as though she was actually seeing out of them.

"I didn't know you could actually suntan," she said by way of greeting to Shade. "Being the colour you are, that is."

Jacoba sat up to look, as well. This man was a funny colour! He had a tail! She shrilled in excitement.

"MANS LOOKS WEIRD," she said.

Shade looked up from the crapptastic lounge chair that even Jack didn't know where he had gotten it from, grinning slightly. "I'm not," he said as he flipped the page of his magazine. "I'm sunbathing. I saw a special about snakes doing it, and thought it might not be such a bad idea."

Antony looked up from the book he was reading on the porch and smiled, getting to his feet. "Good day, Dr. Darnell! I'm afraid Uncle Jack isn't in at the moment, though."

His mathematics teacher returned the smile in full. "Good day to you too, Antony," she said. "He isn't? Oh, bother." (Possibly Dr. Darnell was the only person aside from Pooh Bear to say 'oh, bother' rather than 'oh, s**t'.) "I was hoping to catch him. I usually rely on the fact that he can't drive a car to save his life and usually isn't that far away. - How are you both today?"

"Sleepy," Shade said with a yawn. "I just finished teaching a self defense class in the park." Antony gave him a dark look for that.

"We're fine, and yourself?" Antony asked.

"Awake and alive, a good start," she said briskly. The picture of terrified maternity, too, she wanted to add, but didn't want to confuse Antony. "As you can see, taking my daughter out for the day. Jacoba, why don't you say hello?"

"Hulz," said Jacoba offhandedly, still looking at Shade. She was always interested to see anybody more weird-looking than herself.

Beatrix sighed, knowing full well her child was perfectly capable of saying hello. "You don't have to call me Dr. Darnell outside school," she said to Antony, but sounded pleased nonetheless at his manners. "Considering I'm like your Uncle Jack's maligned older sister, you can always call me Aunt Beatrix. - Shade, do you think he'll be back any time soon?"

"I..." Shade said, glancing up again. "Have no idea whatsoever."

Beatrix sighed heavily. "That's Jack for you. - I won't wait here; Jacoba's too much of a handful. I was actually going to stop off at the mall to buy some things for the class project. Would either of you like to come? - I'll shout you icecream, Mr. Antony, if that helps as a bribe," she added wryly, "as I promised Jacoba one too."

"ICEEM," Jacoba announced smugly. "I's like choclit an' storbry."

"Strawberry," Beatrix corrected sternly. "How many times do I have to tell you mispronunciation is not cute?"

"Storburry," Jacoba self-corrected, and blew a raspberry.

Antony looked at the little redhead blankly for a moment before smiling. "Yes, please! It's much better than watching Father fall asleep." He walked down the path to Beatrix before glancing over at Shade. "May I?"

"Sure, kid, have a ball," Shade said without even glancing up. He did wave, though. In their general direction.

"Excellent," Beatrix said, looking pleased; she also threw a halfhearted wave in Shade's direction. "Some intelligent conversation."

The little trio - well, quartet, as there was a cabbage perched underneath the pram enjoying the shade and the fresh air - started off down the sidewalk. Once they had rounded the corner - Thwomp had come off Beatrix's hat to investigate Antony again, and then went to sit on the pram - the teacher raised a smooth blonde eyebrow at her companion.

"Do tell me if you get tired, and we'll take a break," she said. "Did you enjoy the self-defence class, Antony? - I admit, I loathe that sort of thing."

"It is a good way to exercise your body and learn self control," Antony said, almost by rote. "But it's also a good way of getting grass stains on your clothing."

"Absolutely." A dog barked in the distance; Jacoba made woof, woof sounds back at it. "I had to play tennis as a child - I couldn't stand it, I hated getting messy and sweaty. I always designated your Uncle Jack the athletic one. Was everyone there?"

He sighed, feeling more at ease with her than most. She was practically family, after all. "More than I'd like," he admitted. "I prefer it when it's just me and Father, but--" He shrugged.

Beatrix just smiled; they walked along in companionable silence, turning another corner. The traffic got more heavy as they started down to the large, unlovely grey buildings that signified the mall, as well as all the signs advertising McDonald's and things. Jacoba was quiet now; she wasn't really used to her mother addressing anyone but her, and didn't like the sensation.

"You're probably more advanced than anyone else in the class, with your father coaching you personally," she said. "But having everyone watching... you have a great deal of dignity and maturity to put up with it. If I had been faced with having to perform in front of Riley and Ignacio, I might have called in sick."

"Riley and Ignacio aren't the problem," he said. "It's Harper." Then he flushed, looking guilty. "I shouldn't have said that. It's impolite to blame people." Even annoying little bastards like Harper.

"HARPER SUCK," crowed the child in the pram.

Beatrix started; then she laughed a little, as Thwomp spiralled down and pressed the button on the traffic light to wait for the little red man to turn green. "It is," she agreed, "but it's not impolite to admit you have a problem with somebody. Harper and you are total opposites."

"HARPER SUCK," Jacoba said again.

"As you can see, she's far more impolite about her opinion," said Beatrix. "I must admit - and I know you'll keep this between us - that Harper really is very immature for his age. I think he must have a difficult home life, however."

"I've seen his home," Antony said, making a face. "It's very... disgusting."

"You're lucky to have your father," Beatrix said. The traffic light beeped helpfully as it changed from red to green; Thwomp watched over carefully as the little group traversed across the street and Jacoba roared at passing vehicles. "It doesn't sound as though Harper's family are very interested in being parents." Then again, she'd only met Eliot Rose.

The mall didn't appear to be too packed; apparently everybody was out enjoying the sunshine rather than enjoying materialism, super savings and an overworked air-con system. Beatrix, with Thwomp's help, neatly mobilized them through the small throng of people and the polished floor. "How are you enjoying school?"

"It's very interesting," he said, sounding honest. "I like learning new things. In fact, I enjoy most of my classes very much. And it's good to have friends in them."

This was obviously the right answer; his teacher's expression was that of definite approval. "I appreciate all the help you give me in class time," she said. "I've noticed you helping Delilah - very chivalrous of you, indeed. She's a very shy child, and she needs encouragement from you and the rest of the class."

"I like Delilah very much," he said easily. "She seems very princess-like."

Beatrix was privately very amused, but liked Antony far too much to show it. "She is," she agreed. "She's a very pretty girl.'

"Wanna see," Jacoba demanded: there they both were, talking about interesting and fascinating things and school, and she couldn't go! "I's go school toooo-oooo."

"When you are grown up, my lass," said her mother easily. "Then you can go to school with Antony and Delilah. - All princesses need champions," she added to the child with her. "Or they'll never give their opinions. Has your father told you about knights back in medieval times?"

"No, but I have seen Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail," he said. "Did they really ride sticks and use coconuts to make sound effects?"

It took heroic effort not to giggle. A younger Beatrix would have disapproved, but older Beatrix reasoned that Antony wouldn't have understood most of the terrible sex jokes. "In no way whatsoever," she said. "They rode armoured warhorses into battle and practiced courtly love - loving princesses and noble ladies from afar, never allowed to marry them. They would wear their lady's colours to show their faithfulness to her, defend her honour and try to win her heart with heroic deeds of valour - slaying dragons, that sort of thing."

"Puff," said Jacoba.

"I don't think anybody ever set out to slay Puff, the Magic Dragon," Beatrix said gravely, "but you are right."

"My father's a dragon!" Antony said, looking shocked at the thought.

"PUFF," Jacoba said, more excitedly. She took this to mean that Antony was, in fact, the son of Puff the Magic Dragon, and was immediately and fiercely jealous.

"Not dragons like your father," Beatrix amended. "More of the wild type - you know, large as a house, breathing fire and burning up villages, that sort of thing. They would go and slay evil creatures. Your father does have a distressing love for white vests but he's far from evil, as far as I know."

"True, but he's still a dragon," Antony said, frowning slightly. "Just because he isn't evil doesn't mean they wouldn't have tried to slay him. It IS what knights do, right? And as far as I know dragons are hard to find."

"Back in medieval England, I don't think your father's species roamed around much," Beatrix said, but admitted: "But they might have attempted it anyway - besting your father would have been a big leg-up to their status. They probably wouldn't have killed him, though. When they admired their duelling opponent, knights would leave them alive out of respect to their skill."

"HONALEE," Jacoba said, still stuck on the idea that Shade was, in fact, Puff.

It jerked Antony out of his contemplation. "What, exactly, is Honalee? Or Puff, for that matter?" Clearly his kids movie education was lacking.

"PUFFTHAMAGICDWAGON," Jacoba immediately, loudly recited, terribly off-key. "LIVED BYTHA SEA. An'" - mumble, mumble - "landuv Honalee. LITTLE JACKY PAPER LOVED DAT - " mumble - "PUFF, an' brought him..."

Seeing that Jacoba was not, in fact, going to put a sock in it until she had something to stick in her mouth instead (unfortunately it was going to be sugar, but never mind) Beatrix pushed the stroller determinedly in the direction of the icecream place. "It's a child's song about a dragon - they sing it at her daycare. It's about a magical dragon and his human friend." It was also apparently an allegory for marijuana, but Antony didn't need to know that.

Beatrix immediately hunted down a table; it was a child-friendly icecream place and thusly they had highchairs that she could stuff Jacoba into. "What kind of icecream do you eat, Antony?"

"Chocolate with peanut butter and maple syrup on top," he said straight away, completely ignorant of how strange that sounded. "With marshmellows, if they have them, please."

Obviously snacks at his home were a bit bizarre.

"I'll be back in a moment," she said. "Just call me if Jacoba gets too persnickety."

With that, she was gone, leaving Antony with the tiny redhead who was giving him the evil eye. "I's gib Harper cooties," she told him importantly. "I's go school."

"You go to daycare, right?" he asked, trying to figure out what "cooties" was.

"Uhhhuh," she said, picking at the tray at the front of her high-chair. "But now I's go school. You durn't know Puff," she added scornfully, filled with hatred and jealousy that her mother was so friendly to this outsider and that he was also the son of Jacky Paper's bosom buddy. "You stoopid."

"I'm stupid because I don't know a song about a dragon?" he asked. "Well, you're... short."

"Am NOT," she responded. "You." Then, perhaps realising that this was not the best of insults: "Your hair funny."

"I will not lower myself to fight with a baby," Antony said stiffly. "And at least I HAVE hair," he couldn't help but add.

"NOTTABABY," Jacoba insisted, red-cheeked in her inability to make Antony really mad. "I's go school wif Harper."

"Yes, he probably should still be in daycare," Antony said agreeably. "You and he seem to be on the same mental level."

She didn't understand a lot of this, but she puffed up her cheeks, rolled her eyes back in her head and put her teeth on her top lip in order to make the worst possible face she could at Antony. That would show him!

He started to laugh, finding the face funnier than heck!

Just in time to save Antony from death-glares, Beatrix arrived back with Antony's sundae; Jacoba was distracted by her bowl of strawberry icecream with large amounts of sprinkles on top. Beatrix was apparently satisfied with soya-vanilla no-sugar low-cal styrafoam, or whatever it was she was eating out of her cone.

"Have you told Antony about your new brother or sister?" she asked, and Jacoba gave her mother a withering look: why tell Antony anything that embarrassing?

"You're going to have a sibling?" Antony asked curiously. "In a cabbage?"

"Uh-huh, donwanna," the small redhead said sulkily, digging her spoon into her icecream and ending up getting it mostly in her mouth. ("Good girl," said her mother, and Jacoba brightened up a little.) "Brosistas are stoopid. Wanna puppy."

Brosista? Which gender would that be, Antony wondered silently. "I have Evie, she's Uncle Jack's little girl. And Callisto, but she's more like a mom than a sister... but I don't have any real siblings," he said thoughtfully. "Or a puppy, actually."

Jacoba directed a filthy look at her mother, as if to say, Antony doesn't have to have one!. "You'll let Antony play with your little brother or sister if he wants, won't you?" Beatrix asked her gravely.

"Nooooooo," Jacoba said, alight with the twin fires of possession and not wanting a sibling anyway.

"You'll have to excuse her manners," the blonde woman told Antony as Jacoba sulkily dipped into more icecream. "She's being stubborn about her new sibling."

He nodded, understanding possessiveness, and dug into his ice cream with amazing manners even at that speed. "I suppose you'll get used to having a sibling," he said with a shrug. "Probably."

"Sucks," was Jacoba's apparent thoughts on the matter, and she settled into sticking the sprinkles up her nose as she hoed into her icecream. Beatrix finished her scoop of vanilla-styrafoam early, brushing down the front of her shirt for nonexistent pieces of dust as she stood up.

"I'll just go and quickly pick up the class order at the shop next door," she said, trying in vain to quickly dab Jacoba's face clean with a baby wipe in-between spoonfuls of strawberry. "Hundreds cubes in hand, we can start back. I'm glad you two get on so well," she added naively, and hurried off again.

Not quite knowing what to say to this, Jacoba settled for showing Antony her mouthful of chewed-up icecream before starting on the next spoonful.

"That's disgusting," Antony said almost in a commentative manner. "You should chew more before swallowing or you might choke. Father did that once."

"Once I et a slugs," said Jace contemplatively, before sticking in another spoonful. She liked straining the sprinkles through her teeth and turning her lips funny colours. "Was gross."

"So why'd you eat it?" he asked, not quite believing her. That WAS disgusting.

"I dunno." This did not seem to put her off her food: her mouth was turning a food-colouring rainbow as she slurped at her spoon. Her fingers were quickly becoming intensely sticky, but they were over the other side of the table and safely away from Antony. "Was movin' an' I caughted it."

"I... see," he said before going back to his food. Obviously babies had no sense of taste whatsoever.

"Ate Play-Doh," she added, apparently filled with the need to inform Antony of her gastronomic experiences. "Ate grass."

"At the same time?" he asked curiously.

"Nooooooooo!" The small redhead was filled with obvious contempt for Antony's utter stupidity in the face of eating both play-doh and grass. "Duhhhhhh, she added witheringly, which was pretty hilarious coming from a toddler. "Play-Doh ats daycare."

"Not anymore it's not," he said. "You ate it."

This was patently obvious. She looked down at her tummy: the Play-Doh was still in it, and she grudgingly acknowledged Antony as telling the truth. "I puke Play-Doh?"

"Not here, please," he said. "It would smell bad and ruin the ice cream. Not to mention you'd lose the ice cream you've eaten."

She gave a little wicked chuckle, digging her spoon over-full of icecream and stuffing it in her mouth. "Puke on shoes!" she said, not bothering to close her mouth, apparently entranced with the idea of doing this.

"You don't have any," Antony said, disliking where this convo was going.

"Puke on YOU shoe," she argued back, making an appropriate 'puking' noise: "Blehhhh!"

Jacoba did not seem in any danger of throwing up any time soon, however.

He moved his shoes a bit, just in case. "What else have you eaten?" he asked, more to change the subject than because he was curious.

"Dunno." This did not seem to be the most intelligent of answers. Jacoba spent a few seconds chomping sprinkles on her teeth loudly, scattering small fragments of candy on the table. Then: "Gum." Then: "I's an airplane."

He didn't laugh. He really, really didn't laugh. But he felt like it. "How are you an airplane?"

She held both her arms out at right angles to her body, spoon clasped firmly in one chubby hand. These were apparently meant to be wings. "Vreeeeeeeeee!" she shrilled (in a noise that sounded nothing like an airplane, but satisfied her) and then went back to noisily eating icecream.

He went back to eating his ice cream. Beatrix's kid was obviously insane.