Rose sat on the back swing rocking it with her foot. Ariel and Charity were playing with the three dogs, which was often an amusing sight. Az was the smartest of them, but at ten pounds, also the smallest. He looked exactly like what he was supposed to be, a mini-boxer. They had paid so much money to have an artificial paw made for him, but Az hated it and refused to wear it. Bliss, the pug, had come to them when Az was six months old. He had been beaten so badly by his owner his back legs were paralyzed. He did amazingly well for a dog in a wheelchair. Diamond was the largest, at nineteen pounds. She was some kind of short haired mix who was missing one of her front legs and an ear after being attacked by another dog. Diamond reminded Rose of the cute gremlin she had once seen in a movie. Her owners had surrendered her because they couldn’t afford to pay for her vet bills. Michael had brought her home.

Ariel raced up to her, his long black hair bouncing on his shoulders. “I want to go inside. I’m thirsty.”

“Your mother is taking a nap.” She dug in the cooler and pulled out a sugar free juice for him. Ariel was Gaz’s son, and had no tolerance for sugar. Oddly enough, Charity was fine with it, but the anomaly was from her human father. It wasn’t something they kept in the house anyway.

Michael’s mother had purchased the children chocolate bars, even though she had been given strict orders neither child could have sugar. It had put Ariel in the hospital for a week. It was also the last time Louise had been allowed to take the children alone. It would not happen again.

Ariel grunted dramatically. “I want to see Mommy.”

“Mommy needs her sleep.”

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head like an adult, he replied, “I know. She is knocked up, and Charity and I are going to have to play second fiddle to a new baby in the house.”

“You know wrath is a sin.”

“I’m not feeling wrath. I just don’t want to share my parents with anyone else.”

“I think you need to get over it and deal with the idea,” said Gaz as he walked over from the garage. He picked Ariel up and swung him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “Why are you being cranky?”

“I don’t know. I just am. Maybe it’s that time of the month.”

Gaz chuckled. “That, my sweet son, is a female thing. You are the wrong sex. Where did you hear such a thing?”

“From Becky.”

Becky had gotten considerably harder to handle since the death of her mother four years earlier. It was hard enough to be a teenager without growing up in a house where most of your family was at genius level and had psychic powers. Becky had not been blessed with either gift. She was average in almost every possible way. The only gift she seemed to excel in was sarcasm and attitude. The girl certainly had an overabundance of both things.

Gaz shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that around your mother—she will tan your hide.”

“Mommy is a prude.”

“Mommy is trying to have the two of you grow up with enough manners to attend kindergarten.”

“I don’t want or need to go to kindergarten. What use do I have for learning the alphabet when I can already read? I know my numbers and my colors. I even know how to write my name, plus a hundred other words. You or Mommy can home school us.”

The child did have a point, but what he lacked were social skills. Ariel preferred to play with Lare rather than children his own age. Charity was equally as smart, but she was a social butterfly and loved to go to parties and things with other children. They probably wouldn’t keep her in kindergarten for long, but she was looking forward to going.

Strolling over, she asked politely, “May I have a juice?”

“Of course you may.” Rose handed the child a juice and was pleased when Charity said thank you.

“Kiss ass,” blurted Ariel.

Gaz smacked him on the butt. “Where did you learn that? It’s an extremely rude thing to say.”

“I learned it on television, and it was meant to be rude.”

“I think you need to stop hanging around with Lare. You are ten times worse than he was at four. You need to stop being so obnoxious—it makes you look like a brat, which you are not.”

Ariel sighed deeply. “I’m not a brat. I’m an adult trapped in a child’s body, and I hate it. I don’t want to be treated like a child.”

“But we are children, Ariel,” said Charity. “Why are you in such a hurry to grow up? I keep telling you we should simply enjoy life like normal children do. It’s not like anyone is forcing us to grow up.”

He pushed himself parallel with the ground and looked at his father. “Can you please put me down, Daddy? This is making me dizzy.”

The subtle change in Ariel’s tone always amazed Rose. He not only had a way of saying things he shouldn’t, but he also had a tone of voice to go with it, as if he had multiple personalities.

Gaz flipped him over, putting him down. “I know exactly what you are feeling, Ariel, but your sister is right. You’re children, just as I was at your age. Stop stressing about school—you have a whole year before you start, and we will deal with it when the time arrives. In the meantime, stop being such a smartass. Your little comments are not always appreciated.”

“I know. I only say them at home. I never say rude things in public, do I?”

“No, you don’t. And we all appreciate it.”