1934 had come to England and Helen was beside herself. Lucy was screaming her head off as Helen tried her best to comfort her two year old while keeping track of her other three. Edmund, sweet barely four-year-old Edmund, had tried to give Susan a frog as a present and she was having none of it.

"Really Edmund, that is not polite!" Susan admonished trying to right herself. Helen rushed over to her children's side still bouncing back and forth to try and comfort her youngest.

"Susan, you're brother was trying to show you what he found." Her dark-haired son nodded, always a boy of few words.

"But he put that icky frog right in front of my face, mummy. It was so gross." Susan pouted, crossing her arms.

Helen sighed while trying to think. Lucy thankfully changed her crying to pulling on Helen's hair, although it did not quite help with the thinking progress it was a step up. "A frog is not icky, Susan. It's part of creation."

Susan looked confusedly at her mother.

"If we didn't have frogs there would be so many houseflies in this yard we wouldn't know what to do! You wouldn't want that would you?"

"No, that sounds awful." Susan said, thinking it over.

"Each creature has a purpose here and although we may not know it they all work together just the way God designed them. Does that make sense, love?"

Susan nodded softly. Edmund looked at the assaulting frog whom he had clutched in his hands. "Now I think you should let that frog go continue it's purpose, what do you say Ed?"

"Okay mummy." The boy let the frog back into the yard where it happily hopped away. Relieved to have avoided a crises Helen turned her attention back to Lucy. "And you sweetheart have been quite troublesome today, yes you have." She said bouncing the toddler up and down. Lucy giggled in delight. She was never one to hold on to her foul mood for long.

"MUMMY, MUM, LOOK!" A whirlwind of activity, suddenly Peter appeared amongst the group. Looking at her son Helen realized she had left her focus on the frog dilemma for a little too long. Peter was brandishing a stick in front of him but his whole torso was completely covered in mud. It was smashed in his hair and there were grass stains all over his clothing.

"What have you been up to, my sweet?" She asked bemusedly.

"I saw- a, uh, a flying dragon like the one in the book and I had to protect you from it." Peter said prodding his stick proudly into the ground, obviously quite proud of himself.

"A flying dragon, Peter? How big was it?" She couldn't help but smile a bit.

"It was the biggest one I've ever seen it was purple and it buzzed around and it looked vi- umm, vici- uh, mean!" Peter exclaimed. Lazily a small dragonfly zipped through the group just then. "Another one! It must be the baby!" Peter pulled up his sword (read: stick) and was just about to chase after it when he was stopped by a voice.


"Yes mum?" He turned suddenly looking nervous.

"I think dragon slaying's going to have to wait a bit, you need to clean up before your father gets home."

"But, but-"

"Come on Peter, even knights have to take baths sometimes." Helen chuckled as her son followed her unenthusiastically back to the house.

Helen smiled to herself as she brought her children inside and set Lucy in a pen before following Peter to the bathroom where she would have to do her best to restore him so some sort of order.

Hey so I felt like I needed a little cuteness in my life. I know probably nobody is even waiting on stuff from me any more but I'm putting this out there. 3 you guys, and hope all my American readers are going to have a Happy Thanksgiving.