Oh, I remember that age. If it's any consolation, of the two I was old enough to really be aware of, Ron lasted about three months and Ginny about five before they quieted down a bit -- I think it's something to do with the mind being ready to communicate more complex bits but the rest of them not quite caught up yet. Mind you, three to six months more of this might sound like a million years away, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel, at least?
And oi, yeah, I get tired just thinking about all you have to deal with. I think it's natural to have days when you just want to scream, especially when you have too many people in too small a space. (Once it starts blizzarding in earnest up here, we all have to be very, very careful. It's not odd to see somebody wearing their earplugs indoors at supper 'round February or so, nose in a book, quite firmly pretending the other five dozen people don't exist. You learn right quick that if someone's got their earplugs in, they're about half a step away from "transfigure you lot into firewood and have a cheery little bonfire" territory.)
You've got a bit of an outlet at least now, right? Training with Alice and Frank on things? Bet that if you're having a bad day, you could bring Miss Bea to Moddey and find half a dozen child-minders, and Frank would be happy to let you play smash-and-Reparo for as long as it took to feel better. He's always seemed the sort who'd understand needing to get away for a while.
And yeah, we're not much for following along with what the Ministry wants from us, but Director Higgs rides our arses about it all the time. When a dragon dies, they call in a team from the Ministry to take care of the harvesting. Right secretive about it, too. Things like scales and shed claw casings and the like, things you can just pick up wherever you find them, those they don't bother to keep track of so closely, but anything more rare than that, it's your head if they figure out you didn't turn it in.
(With a few exceptions! You've seen Opaleye jewellery, right? Where the eyes harden into gemstones after the dragon dies? Long standing dragonman tradition: if you're the one who finds an Opaleye after death, you're the one who gets to keep or sell the gems. For once, this is a good "don't tell Mum": the dragon whose heartstring I was able to give to Melisandra last year was an Opaleye, and I traded one gem to a jeweller in New London to have the other set in a pendant for her for Christmas. Can't wait to see her face when she sees it!)
Anyway, I hope tonight's less stressful than this morning was. And, you know, if you ever need an extra pair of hands or an extra baby-wrangler one night a week or whatever, we're technically allowed off the reserve whenever we're not scheduled for duty or on call -- we just don't bother most of the time because it's a bit of a pain and usually we don't know until right before whether we'll be on call or not. But I'd be happy to stop in, at least every other week or so. Miss Bea couldn't be worse than dragon kits, after all.
Re: Private Message to Charlie
And oi, yeah, I get tired just thinking about all you have to deal with. I think it's natural to have days when you just want to scream, especially when you have too many people in too small a space. (Once it starts blizzarding in earnest up here, we all have to be very, very careful. It's not odd to see somebody wearing their earplugs indoors at supper 'round February or so, nose in a book, quite firmly pretending the other five dozen people don't exist. You learn right quick that if someone's got their earplugs in, they're about half a step away from "transfigure you lot into firewood and have a cheery little bonfire" territory.)
You've got a bit of an outlet at least now, right? Training with Alice and Frank on things? Bet that if you're having a bad day, you could bring Miss Bea to Moddey and find half a dozen child-minders, and Frank would be happy to let you play smash-and-Reparo for as long as it took to feel better. He's always seemed the sort who'd understand needing to get away for a while.
And yeah, we're not much for following along with what the Ministry wants from us, but Director Higgs rides our arses about it all the time. When a dragon dies, they call in a team from the Ministry to take care of the harvesting. Right secretive about it, too. Things like scales and shed claw casings and the like, things you can just pick up wherever you find them, those they don't bother to keep track of so closely, but anything more rare than that, it's your head if they figure out you didn't turn it in.
(With a few exceptions! You've seen Opaleye jewellery, right? Where the eyes harden into gemstones after the dragon dies? Long standing dragonman tradition: if you're the one who finds an Opaleye after death, you're the one who gets to keep or sell the gems. For once, this is a good "don't tell Mum": the dragon whose heartstring I was able to give to Melisandra last year was an Opaleye, and I traded one gem to a jeweller in New London to have the other set in a pendant for her for Christmas. Can't wait to see her face when she sees it!)
Anyway, I hope tonight's less stressful than this morning was. And, you know, if you ever need an extra pair of hands or an extra baby-wrangler one night a week or whatever, we're technically allowed off the reserve whenever we're not scheduled for duty or on call -- we just don't bother most of the time because it's a bit of a pain and usually we don't know until right before whether we'll be on call or not. But I'd be happy to stop in, at least every other week or so. Miss Bea couldn't be worse than dragon kits, after all.