Zara was born and it had become tration to place an egg shaped birth-stone for each child born into the family, my own saphire was now spinning at my feet. To make maters worse was, standing int the hall doorway, was my own, now shocked, mother. It was in all almost enough shock for me to drop my preicious water boom still clutched in this hatchling’s claws. After a brief second that seamed like an eturity my mother utter in the tone that only your parents can achieve, “Alexander Dougles Murry! How many times have I told you NOT to run in the house? Oh go to your room, I will deal with you shortly.” It was frazed in such a manner that you reacted emidiatly else you knew the ‘deal’ would be even worse.
A Hot Day in a Life2
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