“Are you still here?!” Germania snapped as he stomped back to the house. “Get out! If you touched one hair on their heads, I’ll—”
“Ah, my bad,” Rome grinned apologetically. “If I’d’a known there were sick kids in the house I woulda been more quiet.”
“It’s too late for apologies now,” Germania huffed, shooing Rome away and kneeling at the boys’ bedside. “You’ve done your damage, now go away.”
“What would you say if I told you I could cure them?” Rome asked with his most winning smile.
“I’d say you’re full of it,” Germania grunted, helping Prussia sit up so that he could tip a little water down his parched throat.
“I mean it,” Rome pouted. “There’s a miracle cure from my house; it’ll fix these two kids up in a jiff!”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Germania replied aloofly.
“Right, I’ll go get it, then,” Rome promised. “Prepare to marvel at the wonders of the great Roman Empire!”
With that, Rome jogged out of the house.
******
Rome returned roughly an hour later with a bowl full of strange-looking liquid. Germania stirred it dubiously, noting its unusual viscosity.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Silphium juice,” Rome announced proudly. “Greece showed it to me! It’ll fix coughs, fevers, indigestion, aches and pains and even seizures. Pretty great, huh?”
“If Greece showed it to you, why were you bragging like you discovered it?” Germania asked irritably. “And why is it so soupy? Is it supposed to be like that?”
“Greece may have found it, but it was my people who perfected it,” Rome said, flashing a cocky grin. “It tends to be a little bitter so I added some honey. Even my adorable little Italy, who’s not good about taking medicine, will drink it when I mix it with honey.”
Germania stirred the liquid again, still not quite looking convinced, but Holy Roman Empire sneezed and moaned pitifully, causing his chest to contract with sympathy. He turned suspicious eyes on Rome.
“You take some first,” he ordered.
“Eh? Why?” Rome asked. “I’m fit as a fiddle!”
“I have to know that you’re not giving me anything strange,” Germania explained impatiently.
The look on Rome’s face changed from startled to more serious than he’d ever seen it before. “You really think I would feed something poisonous to two innocent sick children? Maybe it’s slipped your mind, but you’re the savage here, not me.”
“Do it,” Germania repeated. “I’m not taking any chances with my grandchildren.”
Rome supposed he could see something admirable in that. Frowning, he picked up the spoon and tipped a small amount of the juice down his throat. Then he gazed levelly at Germania and held up his hands as if to say “See? No tricks.”
It's Not Easy Being a Grandpa (3/4)
“Ah, my bad,” Rome grinned apologetically. “If I’d’a known there were sick kids in the house I woulda been more quiet.”
“It’s too late for apologies now,” Germania huffed, shooing Rome away and kneeling at the boys’ bedside. “You’ve done your damage, now go away.”
“What would you say if I told you I could cure them?” Rome asked with his most winning smile.
“I’d say you’re full of it,” Germania grunted, helping Prussia sit up so that he could tip a little water down his parched throat.
“I mean it,” Rome pouted. “There’s a miracle cure from my house; it’ll fix these two kids up in a jiff!”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Germania replied aloofly.
“Right, I’ll go get it, then,” Rome promised. “Prepare to marvel at the wonders of the great Roman Empire!”
With that, Rome jogged out of the house.
******
Rome returned roughly an hour later with a bowl full of strange-looking liquid. Germania stirred it dubiously, noting its unusual viscosity.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Silphium juice,” Rome announced proudly. “Greece showed it to me! It’ll fix coughs, fevers, indigestion, aches and pains and even seizures. Pretty great, huh?”
“If Greece showed it to you, why were you bragging like you discovered it?” Germania asked irritably. “And why is it so soupy? Is it supposed to be like that?”
“Greece may have found it, but it was my people who perfected it,” Rome said, flashing a cocky grin. “It tends to be a little bitter so I added some honey. Even my adorable little Italy, who’s not good about taking medicine, will drink it when I mix it with honey.”
Germania stirred the liquid again, still not quite looking convinced, but Holy Roman Empire sneezed and moaned pitifully, causing his chest to contract with sympathy. He turned suspicious eyes on Rome.
“You take some first,” he ordered.
“Eh? Why?” Rome asked. “I’m fit as a fiddle!”
“I have to know that you’re not giving me anything strange,” Germania explained impatiently.
The look on Rome’s face changed from startled to more serious than he’d ever seen it before. “You really think I would feed something poisonous to two innocent sick children? Maybe it’s slipped your mind, but you’re the savage here, not me.”
“Do it,” Germania repeated. “I’m not taking any chances with my grandchildren.”
Rome supposed he could see something admirable in that. Frowning, he picked up the spoon and tipped a small amount of the juice down his throat. Then he gazed levelly at Germania and held up his hands as if to say “See? No tricks.”