"Gilbert, please don't make whatever soup you're making
You put practically everything in."
"Gilbert! Get off the kitchen counter; you're going to fall off!"
"Gilbert! Don't draw on the walls in crayon!"
You slumped into the wicker chair after a long day of bickering with your little devil, Gilbert, sighing and returning to your favorite book you always read at eight o' clock in the evening sharp. It was a rough life, but as long as you could deal with it one more time, you were alright.
"Now, if I could just get some hot cocoa for myself, that'd be wonderful," you murmured to yourself quietly, with a gentle smile on your tired face. You tied your [h/c] hair into a bun, and slumped over to the kitchen again. It was a mess, of course; when Gilbert had slipped in a puddle of water on the counter and nearly fell onto the cold tile floor, you'd jumped to the rescue and managed to pull off a save
but only after you had got yourself serious tile burns on your elbows, seeing as you had practically dived to the floor without a second thought. But going back to reality, you realized the coffee maker (your savior) had been knocked over, a package of Oreos lying on its side (eaten by your little nemesis Gilbert), and a bitten pear neglected in the corner. You growled some curses, cleaned the messes up and then got to the task of making your hot chocolate.
A small albino popped up from behind the kitchen door, the usual smirk plastered to his face. He was outside to who-knows-where, and had dirt caked to his small figure and his usual outfit of white. You glared daggers at him, and took a sip of your hot chocolate; then you pointed a commanding finger in the direction of the bathroom, and said, "In the tub." His smirk was wiped right off his face, and he went to the bathtub, dejected.
Little Gilbert had an awful day. First he'd tried to make you some broth, but you'd rained on his parade by saying you didn't want any. He'd fed it to the cats outside later, but Hungary found him and tried to make him happier; he'd gotten mad at the Hungarian and did some stupid stuff, causing Hungary to attack. After the 'invasion,' Gilbert had tried to get some Band-Aids from the cabinets; however, finding them far from reach he had leapt onto the counter, causing you to yell and startle him off the counter. Gilbert had gotten the bandages and saw your elbows skinned, but you just snatched them away and stormed off into your room. He'd crept into your room later, but finding you were asleep tried to draw a really awesome portrait of you. Upon waking up, you chased him out
and after he went into the backyard again (this time, crying) he'd found a tiny yellow bird, but you were afraid of avian flu and shouted at the kid.
After Gilbert had gotten out of the tub and changed into some comfy pajamas dotted with tiny yellow chicks, you were still brushing your teeth. Gilbert sneaked up to you, and shouted, "BOO!" You screamed and dropped your toothpaste, and glared at the kid again.
"What do you want, Gilbert?" You were pretty mad.
Mutti, is there any hot chocolate left?" Gilbert said, scuffing the floor with his foot. You couldn't help but take pity on him, and decided to go out of your way to make him some hot chocolate.
"Here," you murmured to him. "Be careful, don't burn yourself! It's hot!" Gilbert nodded glumly, and tiptoed back to his room.
"Wait, Gilbert," you called quietly. "Is there
something getting you down today?"
Then Gilbert had lost it. He ran over to you and squeezed you into a hug, crying. He told all that he had tried to do for you today, and you couldn't help but think that you had failed as a mom.
I'm sorry, Gilbert," you said after a while, feeling terrible. "Is there anything I could do for you?"
Gilbert had retained his angry face again. "Read me a story!"
You sighed and gave him a smile, "How about Snow White?"
"Once upon a time
After Gilbert had fallen asleep, you had given him a good-night kiss on the cheek; then you flipped the lights shut, and closed the door with a quiet click. You wandered over to the dinner table, and noticed a small card; you opened it, wondering why you got it. After all, it was a Sunday; you never got mail on Sundays. You began reading:
You are the most AWESOME mommy ever!!!
Prussia Gilbert Beilschmidt
You grinned to yourself and sighed, "Gilbert."