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About Gwillewyn: We're having our third house meeting this month. Yet again the conflict revolves around borders and boundaries in our neohome, and once more age seems to be the issue. Gwillewyn is not coping too well with being an older sister. I probably let her be an only child for too long; let her get self-centred and too intelligent by far. At the moment she is pouting, and not at all acting her age. "Now, let's be sensible about this." I say and look sternly at the two kyriis in front of me. "It's a big house; there is plenty of room for the both of you." I'm truly amazed the two of them can't keep out of each other's way. The house has 22 rooms, not counting the gardens; there certainly should be enough space for two Kyriis to coexist without getting on each other's nerves! "He eats my hair gel." The bigger of the kyriis says glumly and tries to cross her short arms. "He's just a baby, Gwillewyn, you have to remember that." Gwillewyn the Kyrii scowls across at her little brother who is sucking his thumb and hugging his plushie slorg. "Ha!" she spits. "He knows what he's doing. He's just putting up that sweet and innocent act when you're around." "Ga!" laughs the baby, and tumbles over backwards. I can't restrain myself from laughing lovingly. Gwillewyn sighs. "Make that little diapered demon stay out of my room!" "I'll do my best," I promise "but please keep your hair gel on a shelf out of his reach. I don't think that stuff is good for him." She actually looks shocked. "Do you really think my hair gets like this by itself?" she gasps "I need gel within reach at all times!" Almost as a reflex a comb and a pocket mirror appears out of nowhere. The Kyrii quickly rearranges a few strands of hair, and the grooming items are gone as fast as they appeared. The hair really is perfect, every strand in harmony, very unlike her little brother whose hair contains half sucked sweets, twigs and fluff, and generally has the appearance of an abandoned lenny nest. "Gwillie," I sigh, "how old are you now?" She looks down. "5 years this December." she mumbles. "So you're the old one." "I'm the old one" she repeats in the tone of someone who's heard the words many times before.. "So, promise me you're not going to try to kick his slorg?" A light flares up in her eyes. "He chases my Babaa!" "The slorg?" I ask puzzled. To the best of my knowledge a slorg has a top speed of a couple of yards an hour. But of course, a babaa can be chased by anything; chairs, walls, shadows... "No, not the slorg! Ehrerril!" she shouts. "He even crawls under my bed after him! You know how easily babaas take fright! It took me days to calm him down after the last time! I fount him hiding in the closet, and he wouldn't come out, even when I offered him cabbage!" "You offered Ehrerril cabbage?" "No," she rolls her eyes at me. "Bobby! The Babaa." I glance over at Ehrerril. He's promptly fallen asleep on the floor and is snoring ever so slightly. The slorg is slowly making its escape, leaving a small trail of fluff and lint behind it. "OK, what do you want me to do?"
Gwillewyn grunts slightly and looks at her little brother. "Put him in the pound?" she suggests, but changes her mind the
instant she sees my face. "no, no, I wasn't serious... Buy him some toys? Keep him occupied… And fill his cookie jar! If he
touches my Disco Hair Gel there will be trouble!"
Quick Jump
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