“Mom!”
Amelia closed her
eyes. If she pretended not to hear her daughter, would whatever Bethy
was yelling about go away?
“Mom!”
A cascade of
pounding feet tumbled down the stairs to Amelia's basement workshop.
With a sigh, she put down her tongs and stepped away from her bench,
careful not to leave the chunk of frankincense too close to the
bubbling cauldron.
“Mom!”
Amelia plastered on
a smile for her child, who couldn't really help being a rambunctious
bundle of energy. That sort of went along with being ten. “Yes,
dearheart?”
“Hermione's in
the tree again!”
Oh, good grief. Not
again. “Did you spray her?”
“Yeah.” Bethy
rolled her eyes at the silly question. “Of course I did. Didn't do
any good though. I don't think she cares anymore.”
Well, that was
lovely. The little varmint was developing an immunity to the nasty
tincture that was making the entire house stink. She also hadn't
been impressed at all with the Tabasco Sauce idea, the soap, or that
bitter apple stuff from the pet store. Nothing would deter her from
her quest to taste all of the Solstice ornaments.
“I bet fire would
work,” Bethy offered as she trailed up the stairs after Amelia.
“Though I don't think it would be great for the tree.”
“No, dear, it
wouldn't be.”
The two entered
their sitting room to find half the decorations from the tree on the
floor. Hermione's brothers, predictably named Harry and Ron, sat on
the mantle watching the action with vaguely amused expressions on
their reptilian faces.
“Hermione!”
Amelia snapped. “You get out of that tree right this instant!”
Branches ruffled,
but no Hermione was forthcoming.
“I mean it.”
She walked up to the tree, trying to find her elusive pet. “You get
out of there right now or...”
She had no idea
what to threaten, but as she was racking her brains to come up with
something a tiny little nose worked its way into view. It was
followed by two of the widest, sweetest eyes she'd ever seen and her
heart melted.
People who read
about dragons in books might tell you dragons survive by having thick
scales and the ability to breath fire, but people who live with them
know the truth: dragons survive by being absolutely adorable.
(Image is Little Helpers by Anne Stokes. It's on my calendar this month.)
