"Come on Pyra! You can do it! Come to papa!" My dad held his arms wide open, a few feet in front of me. I was ten months now, and was attempting to get the hang of walking. I took a deep breath and got to my feet. I wobbled back and forth, and carefully moved my right foot forward. Then the left. I took almost four steps, before tipping forward. "Bah!" I exclaimed in frustration. I took my first steps last week, and have been practicing diligently every day since. But I've only been able to manage a few at a time. I was seriously getting tired of trying and failing. Maybe I'll just give up on walking and crawl everywhere. "Come on, darling. You can do it. You're almost there. Just a bit further." Dad speaks softly, encouraging me with a gentle smile on his face. Well, I can't really say no to a face like that. I stand up and try again. I take a step. Then another. And another. I'm practically sprinting! I squeal with delight when I come face to face with my dad. He cheers too. Dad then scoops me up and hugs me close. "You did it, Pyra! Well done, my darling! Well done!" Over the months, I had learned my new dad was a very doting man. He praised my every accomplishment, no matter how small. He snuggles me whenever he has the chance. He loves giving me presents and making cute clothes for me. This guy was going to give me a big head. He makes me feel like a superhero just for rolling over. Dad gives me a big kiss on the head. "Let's go tell your mamma!" He exclaims, rushing out of the room and down the stairs. 

"That's my girl!" Mom is delighted to hear the news. She lifts me into the air, spinning me around, before bringing me back down, peppering my face with kisses. She has also been celebrating everything I accomplish, quite loudly. My new mom was a fiery, energetic woman. She loves to play with me and never seems to tire. She goes all out in games, chasing us around, pretending to be a monster, and swinging us up into the air. She's also seriously strong. My mom can easily hold all three of her son's at once. And she chops up wood as easily as she cuts butter. I don't think I've ever seen her sit still for more than a minute. She's always moving around. I swear, she has more energy than the triplets! I don't know how such a thing is possible. She's also louder than her sons, never seeming to use her indoor voice. 

Her lack of soft-spokenness is quickly proven when an insect suddenly flies past us. My mom bellows out a war cry,  swiping at the bug, but it dodges and lands on my dad's head. Without thinking, I pointed to it and yelped, "Ah! A bug!" My parents stared, wide-eyed. Oh no. Had I spoken too early? I only babbled in front of others, but I had been practicing speaking correctly in private. I had a decent grasp on forming words, but had yet to reveal my ability. I don't know when most babies start talking, but ten months felt young. I had planned to wait a few months before starting with a conventional first word like "mama" or "papa." But I had just uttered what was practically a sentence! That couldn't be normal, right? Ugh, and I've been trying hard to act like a regular baby! If they start thinking I'm some sort of prodigy, they'll no doubt have high expectations for me.  I'm not a genius, and I don't have any special skills. Most of my knowledge from my life as Annabelle won't apply here. Being able to communicate and do basic math won't be impressive for very long. And what will they do if they think I'm a freak of nature? Will I be abandoned? Or will they- "Did she just say 'Ah! A bug?'" Mama interrupts the brief silence. Papa nods slowly. "That's what I heard!" Mama beams at me. "Incredible!" She exclaims, lifting me up once more. "Taking eleven steps and saying her first words all in one day!" Papa nods again, vigorously this time. "This is truly a momentous day. We must celebrate! This calls for a feast! A party! A parade! Why, we should right to the king and have today declared a national holiday!" The serious look on his face tells me he isn't joking. Oh Lord. Mama, please talk some sense into your ridiculous husband! But she has the same look on her face. "This tremendous day should certainly be celebrated nation-wide, with great pomp and circumstance. But that will take time to arrange. For today, let's have a few people over for a big meal. Perhaps by next year we can celebrate this day with all the pageantry it deserves." Oh for goodness sake. What am I going to do with these two? They're both completely ridiculous. 

Later that day, we had a small party. The boys, who had been out playing, were equally excited to hear the news about me. My family set about putting up decorations, cooking several dishes, and baking fruit tarts. They invited the neighbors over. Even though it was last minute, they agreed to come, bringing cookies and flowers. No one questions the invitation. It seems they all agree that today called for a celebration. I wonder if everyone in this world is a little bit crazy. Everyone ate, talked, and congratulated me. After dessert, us kids went to play while the adults continued to talk around the table. We all piled into my brothers' shared room. It's cramped in the small room, with the triplets, the neighbors' three children and myself. Our neighbors to the right have two children, who are four and six. The neighbors across the street have a three year old. The neighbors to the left are an elderly couple, their children have grown up and moved away. They often look after the local children when the parents are busy. They all live above shops like us. In fact, everyone on the street lives above their own businesses. It's popular for the kids here to play at running said businesses. As the oldest child present, six-year-old Mello is quick to take charge, deciding we will play pretend bakery. We spend the rest of the evening pretending to knead dough, decorate cookies, fill pies, and box up orders. Since I'm too little to follow along, I am given the role of customer, for whom the other children "bake" treats for. I babble out requests, which the other kids interpret as they so choose. Soon the adults come to collect their offspring, all of whom protest greatly. Future playdates are promised, and everyone is finally able to head home. 

My brothers and I are put to bed. It's way past my bedtime, and I'm already half asleep. My parents talk softly in their own bed as I start to nod off. "What a wonderful day. I'm so glad we celebrated." Dad whispers. "Indeed." Mom agrees. "Of course, we will have to top all this on her birthday!" Dad whisper-yells. "Naturally!" Mom exclaims, as soft as her voice goes. "We'll make her first birthday the talk of town!" The two begin mumbling elaborate plans. Oh geez. It's just a baby's birthday! We can keep it small! I don't need a marching band or fireworks! Honestly, you two must be the silliest parents in any world