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There was a near-constant din that filled their home for every waking hour. Four small Frasers talking, giggling, bumping into random objects (or people), and dropping things tended to create a moderate level of chaos as a baseline. Today was a happy continuation of that daily pattern.
“Da? Do you know where my faery wings are?” A curly red head popped around the corner of the doorway from the family room to the kitchen, inquiring with great urgency.
“Did ye look in yer room? In Faith’s?” he replied, looking up from the small stack of bills he still hadn’t gone paperless with.
“Looked there!” Bree yelled back, already gone from the room to continue her quest.
Mere seconds later he heard footsteps running and their eldest appeared. “Don’t worry, Da. Bree found them,” she delivered the news with a smile then reached to unlock the baby gate. “Come here Willa. Da, I’ll take care of her, but we need her for our game.”
Before he could reply –which seemed to be the speed at which all the ladies of the house acted, much to his consternation- Faith and Willa were gone.
“’Tis just us men now,” Jamie glanced sideways at Fergus who sat on the floor amidst a jumble of Duplo blocks.
“Wow!” Fergus replied, holding up two blocks he had meticulously, and time-consumingly, snapped together. “Wow, Da!”
Fergus’ latest word was “Wow” while Willa still didn’t say anything aside from “Ma” or “No.” Each bite Fergus ate at supper was followed by a “wow!” Each toy put in their chest, every insect he spotted, all the times he hit his sisters, they were all “wow” moments. It was part of the cumulative chaos that was their lives.
“Mama, wow!” Fergus chirped as Claire came in through the back door, a handful of produce from the garden clutched in her grasp.
“Yes, love. You’re building blocks? That’s wonderful!” she quickly bent to plant a kiss on his forehead, dodge away to avoid the snapped-together blocks he was upholding in victory, and took her produce to the sink.
“What are the girls up to?" Claire's whisky-colored eyes scanned the room, empty aside from the Fraser "men."
"They're together in the other room. Faith came to get Willa." He explained it while barely glancing back up, attention on the bills once again, determined to finish before supper.
At the sound of her name, Willa appeared in the doorway, shoved there (apparently) by Bree whose hand disappeared quickly.
"Faith? Brianna?" Claire's voice trailed off in puzzlement. "Where are Willa's clothes?"
Naked aside from a plastic, bejeweled crown, a cape, and a saggy nappy, Willa toddled in to be near Fergus.
From the other room Bree belted back, "She's wearing a cape!"
Jamie snorted.
Faith scrambled into the room wearing the newly rediscovered fairy wings and a serious look on her face.
"Ok," she held her hands out emphatically. "We're playing stuck-in-a-tower-rescue. Just ignore that Willa’s here, ok?"
She disappeared before anyone could respond which was good, all things considered, since both Jamie and Claire were smothering laughter.
“Do ye think they’ll be able to rescue her?” he asked. “She’s rather conspicuous to be making a break for it.”
This time Claire snorted, slapping her palm to her face to cover the noise, color rising in her cheeks.
“Ma!” Willa awkwardly pranced over to her, arms uplifted. She opened and closed her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet as if she could reach her mama if she stretched far enough.
“Hello darling. Are you playing rescue with your sisters?” She buried her nose in Willa’s curls that smelled mysteriously of baby and breakfast’s pancakes.
Willa nodded enthusiastically. Considering Willa only nodded and didn’t use words, that wasn’t indicative of much though.
“Maybe before the rescue we can change your nappy. Would you like Da to do it?” She smirked at her husband playfully, pursing her lips.
Jamie rolled his eyes and took their youngest daughter from his wife. “Come on then, lass.”
Claire planted a quick kiss on his lips before he turned. “I have one more basket of things from the garden then I’ll start working on supper,” she said.
It was only moments later that Jamie and Willa returned together and Claire came back with more vegetables.
And found the room empty.
“Girls?” called Claire, walking to the next room, hoping to find Fergus there. “Where is your brother?”
He stood between them, girls bedecked in faery wings and glittery crowns, and Fergus with a smile and his blocks.
“We rescued him,” Bree stated flatly, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.
“Yeah, great job Willa!” Faith cheered her little sister. She skipped over and tickled the toddler’s feet as Willa squirmed up higher in Jamie’s grasp.
“Willa was our spy,” Faith continued. “We knew she’d distract you so we could rescue Fergus from the tower.”
“You werena the ones being rescued then? Or Willa?” Jamie asked, puzzled.
“No, Da!” scoffed their little redhead. “Fergus was trapped in a tower, Willa was our spy, and Faith and I were faery princesses who rescued the prince.”
He looked to Claire who shrugged, clearly catching up still as well. They were raising strong girls, tried all the time not to give into the stereotypes (contrary to the indication left by the excessive pink glitter strewn around their house at any given time), attempted to model courage and integrity and chivalry, regardless of gender.
It was, strangely enough, still a surprise when their attempts to parent panned out in good ways.
“Da,” Bree continued. “Girls can rescue people too, not just boys.”
“Oh,” he said rather lamely.
Then he looked at his wife. “Aye. Lasses can rescue people too.”