Sam and Kate's joy multiplied each passing day as their son grew. He was a beautiful, happy toddler with Kate's eyes, Sam's nose, and a mess of curly blonde hair (though they couldn't quite pinpoint where that particular trait had come from, and had to guess it was from Kate's side of the family). In school he did well, passing with As and Bs and always hurrying home to their little house at the end of the day for dinner. He had friends, then girlfriends, then friends again as the girlfriends seemed to disappear at whim. Kate often worried about the effect this would have on her beloved son's personality, but it didn't seem to faze him. David was just happy no matter what the situation.

Although they tried, the parents could never provide their son with a younger sibling. A second miscarriage when David was three left Kate distraught, and it was decided that the pair would be happy with just their little sunshine. Kate was happy to run the household and occasionally volunteer at the hospital or the school, always with breakfast on the table at seven and dinner at six. In the morning she would kiss Sam goodbye, whisper I love you, and tell him to have a good day. At night the scenario was repeated, only with "welcome home" in place of goodbye. At night they'd sit together as a family and watch TV, sharing laughter as any happy family did.

Today, however, was different. Kate was at home making supper and craining her neck to see what was happening on the televison. Something about a war. She didn't really give much of a listen, as Sam would probably explain it to her when she got home. Or David. Whichever one came first.

David wandered in kicthen. "You make cookies?"

Kate turned to her son and chuckled.

"Of course I did." she said. "You asked for them, didn't you?"

She went around to hug him.

"How was school?"

"Boring as usual. mr. Jackson rambled on and on."

"Well, as long as you were taking notes." she chuckled, knowing perfectly well he probably hadn't. "Can you be a dear and set the table?"

"For a one cookie charge I will," he smriked.

She tsked.

"Such a high price." she laughed, passing him one. "Go ahead, they're on the counter by the fridge."

(WWII and ally? loove youse.)

He munched on the cookie and went to set the table.

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