April 18, 2001
"Get that thing away from me," Kit warned, not looking at her brother but rather concentrating on her baby sister who was attempting to walk--with her big sister's help of course.
A 15-year-old Adrian Peacecraft sported a mischievous grin as he held the terrified dwarf bunny aloft, waving it in the air. "Nikki! Nikki, look! A Bunny!" he cried, trying to get the 1-year-old's attention.
"Adrian." Kit growled.
The teen shoved the white creature in the 19-year-old's face. Kit cringed away, a screech leaving her lips. "Go! Away!"
*That* got Nicolette's attention and, upon looking up and seeing the little white bunny, her face lit up and she reached out for the creature--letting go of Kit's hand, tumbling a step forward, and promptly falling on her back side. She looked up, confused as to how she ended up "down" when she was trying to go "up".
"Fine. You want to play with that rodent, *you* watch her!" Kit growled, whirling away, leaving her baby sister in her brother's capable care and bee-lining it towards the picnic tables.
"Kit? Where's Nicole?" Noin called out the minute she saw one daughter and not the other. "I thought you were watching her."
"She's fine, Mom," the young woman called back, weaving through the tables towards the food buffet. "Adrian has her."
Noin relaxed back into her chair and turned back to Sally. "I'm getting too old for this."
Sally Po laughed at her friend, bouncing her 8-month old grandson in her lap. "That's why it's better to let *them* have the children," she said, smothering the baby with kisses. "Then you can spoil them like crazy and still give them back to the parents." She winked at her long-time friend.
"I *heard* that," Michael Braddocks called from another table where he sat with his young wife and brother-in-law. "Don't make me come over there, Mom."
Sally ignored the young man, choosing to give the baby another piece of candy instead.
It was Noin's turn to laugh. "Who would have thought you, as the doting grandmother."
"It's better than her as the mercenary, teaching those poor children guerilla tactics," Anne replied, setting her plate down next to Sally's.
Sally smirked at her wife. "You're just sore because we were winning."
"Hardly," the lady answered.
"Grandmomma! Grandmomma!" 7-year-old Julian Mazzolla run up to their table, breathless with excitement. "May I go down to the Duck Pond with the others?"
"What did your mother say," Anne returned, buttering a slice of bread.
"But--
"She *said*," Marie answered, sitting down at another table, "'No.'" Wufei and Trowa sat down beside her, keeping their mouths shut.
"But, Mo~om!" the 7-year-old whined. "The *Others* are going!"
"The other's *aren't* *my* son!" the fiery haired woman replied, staring her son down until the boy looked away, defeated.
The two men beside her studied their plates, lips sealed shut. After all, the 'others' were *their* concern.
Eleven-year old Mara Jade ran up, breathless, face flushed. "C'mon, Jule, we're going!" she cried, snatching at the boy's hand.
Julian shot one look towards his mother's stiff expression before looking back at the grass at his feet. "Not going," he mumbled.
"What? But, the new ducklings--!" Mara began before catching her father's *look* and Julian's own pleading glance towards his mother.
"*Please*, Auntie Marie," the dark--haired child wheedled, pressing up against Mariemeia's elbow, large puppy--dog eyes. "I *promise* we won't throw him in the water this year!"
"No."
"But--"
"Mara Jade." Wufei warned.
"Honest!" the girl continued. "We'll throw Dylan in!"
"Mara--!"
"Kidding! Kidding!" The 11--year--old beamed up at her father. "Tristan's already agreed to chase the ducklings from the center of the pond so Julian doesn't have to go any where *near* the water!"
"What!"
Marie smiled. "Well, as long as it's Tristan and not Julian," she began, trying to repress her laughter at Trowa's expression. "Okay, have fun then."
"Thanks!" two voice rung out as both Mara Jade and Julian darted off towards the Duck Pond.
"Wait a minute--" Trowa tried, but he was talking to empty space.
"Trowa, what's the matter?" Quatre asked, walking up beside Heero and Duo, plate in hand.
"Do you know what you son is doing?" his husband answered.
"Which one? No. Wait. I probably don't want to know," Quatre sighed, dropping into his seat next to Trowa. "As long as he's not trying to rebuild a gundam or planning world domination, it can save till later."
Duo chuckled, picking a seat next to Wufei. "How'd that little project go, anyway? He ever decide on a model?"
"No," Quatre answered, sounding very, very tired. "Which is why he finally gave up, thank Allah!"
Trowa smiled, squeezing Quatre's hand. "He couldn't decide which one was "cooler"," he admitted.
"Hn." Heero fell in beside Duo and Quatre.
"Oh, that's easy!" Duo replied, waving a roll. "Deathscythe was by *far* the best!"
"I hardly think--"
"Wing was stronger."
"Had to be with a kamikaze like *you* piloting it!"
"Heavyarms had more fire power--"
"Sandrock was--"
"Nataku had you *all* beat--"
Marie picked up her plate and joined the other women as they headed over to the *other* side of the pavilion. They passed Zechs on their way and, seeing the women's pained expressions, he asked, "At it again, huh?"
Noin shot her husband a *look*. "Sometimes I can't believe they're responsible for saving the Earth."
Zechs kissed her lips. "A simple 'yes' would have done," he grinned and joined them at the new table.
End of Part 7: Easter Picnic
Andrea Readwolf
Please send comments to: andrea_readwolf@hotmail.com