All That We Are Is Who We Must Be

Simon.

As we drive home, I glance back at the girls. Their faces are sticky with the ice cream Baz and I missed while wiping their faces off, but they look immensely happy. Tasha got Oreo ice cream, and the white-grey colour of it stands out starkly against her skin (they both have the same rose-dark skin Baz had in that photo of him from before he was bitten). She and Lulu (whose face is covered in strawberry ice cream) are talking with their heads together, and I swear they're the cutest kids on this planet (maybe that's what all parents say, but I swear it's true). I try to listen in on their conversation, but all I can catch are nonsensical bits and pieces. The two of them often talk and act like they're twins, even though they're a year and a half apart, and half the time it sounds as if they've got their own made up language.

"Guess what, girlies?" I ask them, smiling.

"What?" Asks a very excited Lulu. I wink at them.

"You have to guess," I tease in a singsong voice.

"Minnie, please tell us?" Pleads Tasha, her dark eyes big and round like a puppy's. She knows I can't resist that look (and the little bugger is teaching her sister to do it, too). I throw up my hands in mock surrender.

"All right, I suppose. But only because you said please. Guess what Bap and I did today?"

"You said no guessing!" Protests Tasha, giggling. I turn around to poke her knee, making her laugh harder.

"We went up to our old school-- do you remember the school in mine and Bap's stories?" I ask. Tasha nods enthusiastically, her dark hair bouncing, but Lulu's face is more unsure, like she's only nodding because her sister is. That's alright, she's only three. I suppose I can forgive my three year old for not having a fully developed brain.

"What did you do there, Minnie?" Tasha asks. I grin at them.

"Well, you're going to have to start calling Bap 'professor', because he got a new job there! Isn't that exciting?" Tasha's dark brown eyes light up.

"Can we visit him there?" She asks excitedly. I nod.

"Yes we can, sweet girl."

"Minnie, what's a 'fressor?" Asks Lulu. She's a ridiculously smart kid (well, they both are; Tasha could do addition before she was finished with daycare), but, like I said, she's three.

"It's like a teacher, love. He's going to teach Magic to people-- and someday, he'll teach you, too!" Understanding dawns on her little face.

"Ohhh! Bap! Bap!" She says. Baz glances back at her in the mirror.

"Yes, Lovely Lulu?" He asks.

"What're you gonna teach?"

"I'll be teaching spells-- like your and your sister's favourites; count your chickens and damp squid." I laugh at his example choices. Count your chickens, if done wrong (on accident or on purpose), can make about a truckload of baby chicks fill the room. And Baz actually invented damp squid; the spell was originally 'damp squib' to make my boss's car stop working (long story short, I wanted to skive off, but didn't want to call in sick), but Baz had a bit of a head cold, so it came out more like 'damp squid'. It made a large, slimy squid appear out of thin air. The girls think it's fucking hilarious (it really is).

"Bap, will you teach us a spell when we get home?" Asks Tasha. They both know it's no good to ask me to teach them magic; mine doesn't require wandwork or spell casting. I just sort of... think. And that somehow makes shit happen. That doesn't exactly lend me to teaching opportunities.

"All right, my Talented Tasha, but only one. Then Minnie and I have to get ready for Halloween at the Bunces'."

"Two spells?" She wheedles. Baz grins, flashing those needlepoint canines.

"Okay, two spells."

The conversation lapses into comfortable silence. Baz reaches over and takes my hand, and I squeeze his fingers. I'm still not sure what I did to deserve all this; the best husband in the world, a beautiful house in the countryside, and two beautiful daughters to share it all with. I couldn't be happier.

After a few moments, I glance back again.

"So, Tasha, how was school today?" I ask cautiously. It's her first year, and even though she seems to have a group of friends (fellow five year old socialites), I'm not a huge fan of a lot of them. They're not very nice to Tasha, and they're fair-weather friends if ever I saw them. I want her to settle in with a best friend, maybe hit her stride a little bit better. She's gotten off to a bit of a rough start.

Sure enough, her sweet face is downcast, hair covering her expression.

"It was okay," She says. "Freya wanted me to come play with her, but Abigail got mad and wouldn't let me." I exchange a look with Baz.

"What happened, love?" He asks.

"They started yelling at each other and then Mrs. McLoughlan put them both in the time-out areas. Freya was just mad that Abigail doesn't let me play with her anymore, and Abigail was just mad that I wanted to play with someone else." Baz pulls into our garage as she's finishing her story. Which is good, because her pink lower lip is trembling and her eyes are bright.

After exchanging a look, Baz and I get hastily out of the car. He extracts a sleeping Lulu from her carseat, I go round to Tasha and wrap my arms around her.

"Did you want to play with Freya?" I ask, pulling away to wipe at her tearstained cheeks. Tasha nods.

"You said Abigail won't let you play with anyone else?" Asks Baz, stepping back into the garage. He must've put Lucy down on the couch to nap (though we should probably wake her soon, or she'll be awake all night). He joins me next to Tasha, who shakes her head in answer to his question. "Why don't you tell Abigail that you can play with who you want to play with? You are your own person, Tash. No one else gets to tell you what you can and cannot do, okay?" She nods, sniffling.

"But what if she doesn't listen?" I tug gently at the ends of her hair, getting a smile.

"I give you permission to whack her across the head if she won't stop being mean," I tell her, not quite sure if I'm sincere or joking. "That always worked for me as a kid." Honestly, it might be the only cure for Abigail. She's been (and I still don't like to call anyone a bitch, but) a bitch to Natasha ever since she started school. Even in the first two months of year one, Abigail has already sent Natasha home in tears somewhere around six times. But we can't seem to shake her, no matter what we tell Tasha's teachers. They won't do anything to stop her (and it's pissing me the fuck off).

Baz raises an eyebrow at me at my suggestion, but then seems to mull through my answer.

"Si, you can't encourage our five year old to fight," He says softly. I can tell by his face he agrees with me, though.

"Nothing else is working, Baz," I reply, just as quietly. He looks conflicted for a moment, but soon gives in.

"I suppose you're right. But Tasha, you are only to do that if you absolutely have to. Okay?" Tasha just nods again, looking a bit more cheerful.

"Okay, Bap. Okay, Minnie."

We pull her into a double-sided hug, my hands smoothing her hair, Baz's wiping her tears.

"Come on, sweet girl, let's go get in our Halloween costumes, yeah? You can even help Bap and I do our makeup," I tell her. Her face lights up as she looks at Baz and I.

"You promise?"

"I promise."