Goodnight, Week 3, Part 1



We begin this week with a moment of uncharacteristic serenity from my darling girl. She’s as lovely as ever, but I think I have perhaps the teen-iest teenager ever to walk the earth. Even while practicing yoga she has the disapproving pout of one who is just SO over absolutely everything. I’ve had my hands full this week. May I vent? I plan to.


Things started out well, though I definitely sympathize with your feelings about Sundays and Mondays, Loelia. I practiced my vampiric skills at every opportunity, attempting to raise myself to Grand Master by sussing out the mundane contents of the minds of passersby. Nothing juicy to tell about this fellow. *sigh*


Tatiana set to work making enemies of everyone she met, beginning with my progeny. “We’re in a hurry, Mum. I can’t exactly be choosy!” she says. It’s made for some tense club gatherings. Matter of fact, all of our gatherings are tense because Tati’s membership in a notorious club makes everyone nervous around her. It’s such a headache.


At least the garden’s going well. Jana’s chummy with the cowplant now that she doesn’t have to see the inside of it anymore, and we’ve managed to keep up a regular feeding schedule. We goofed last week and grafted a pomegranate to a lily instead of an orchid, but rectified the situation first thing, and had a healthy, skull-faced blossom to plant in no time.


My horrid luck with the wishing well seemed to have skipped a generation at first and Tatiana got a full promotion in her babysitter job on her first try. She only has shifts on weekends, but we figured we’d have her keep up a regular wishing schedule and she’d be sure to strike gold one more time before the big switch. Does that sound like ominous, hubristic foreshadowing? It’s meant to.


Another of these faces. I can’t tell if it’s her mother’s tiny rosebud mouth, or her perpetually arched eyebrows, but she’s really become an expert at cynical disapproval in an astoundingly short time. I see this face often.


Club gatherings are a bit difficult. I summon my progeny round for training and sparring every evening, but they usually arrive smoking and exhausted, and head straight downstairs to the coffins.


They do get a bit of work done, however, when pushed. I’m never going to get the stains out of the ceilings. I just refuse to look up.


Dear Caleb has been having a bit of trouble relating to his biological offspring. Aidan (and it is Aidan, and not Ethan, as I’d originally said. Oops! Bad Auntie!) is a darling little thing, but I don’t think he and his Daddy have a great deal in common. Aidan enjoys blocks. Caleb enjoys being admired and doted upon. Aidan appreciates storybooks. Caleb prefers posing majestically in pools of moonlight. The relationship between father and son is, sadly, in the red. Naturally, they went on a brief camping trip to attempt to bond with one another (and so Caleb could learn the woodworking schematic). They were less than successful.


They returned quickly to accompany Tati to a club meeting at the Bathe de Rill. As you can see, Nancy Landgraab was deeply impressed with Caleb’s jumping and splashing abilities.


Fortunately, Caleb is a bit more in his element around his niece, and returned home to assist her with her homework before school began Monday morning. He was so passionate about helping he refused to take the time to change out of his swimwear. At least that’s his story.


My dearest Lilith has recently mastered The Oshizu Technique for painting portraits and spent many an hour in front of her easel, attempting to produce a masterpiece.


Caleb spent an equal number of hours in front of his workbench, grinding out camping mascots to pad the family finances so that we might toss his earnings gaily into the wishing well. Again, his passion and haste forbid him from donning a shirt.


Tati lucked out and brought home a school project, which gave her grades a nice boost early on.


It did little for her relationship with Mummy Lilith, however. Even besties it seems are not immune from the mood swings of Hurricane Tatiana.


Tatiana did master the ironic squee of joy, however. I was not aware that it was even possible to “applaud” in quotation marks, but our Tatiana has a way of finding the sarcasm in any situation.


We got another stroke of luck when the Humor and Hijinks festival rolled into town. We had to wait until sundown to make an appearance as Tati and Jana are still sensitive to sunlight, but that left plenty of time for our girl to get on Geoffrey Landgraab’s nerves.


Being a teenage vampire offers a number of extra mischief socials, which works greatly in Tati’s benefit. She can not only throw shade and spread urban legends like most teens, she can also pretend to bite people.


And then actually bite them . . . At any rate, she ended the festival with level 6 mischief and a marvelous new voodoo doll to play with.


She bound it to dear Johnny, who I must say has been a particularly good sport about all of Tati’s mischief-making.


They’re both goofballs, so they’ve got a lot in common, and no matter how many times she zings him with the hand buzzer or accuses him of breaking wind, their relationship seems to only get better and better.


We managed to get Aidan to a cake in time to celebrate his birthday (though only just). Poor boy. His mother hates children and his father . . . is Caleb, so he doesn’t get a great deal of attention, despite being a dear little boy.


I imagine that will change as he ages, however. Just look at that handsome mug. He’ll have more attention than he can stand once he’s a teenager.


Oh! At this point, we built a museum. I attempted to base the design on an old mausoleum, but it somehow came out more quaint than creepy. I’ll try adding some more cracks and vines at a later date, but for now it does the job, and should continue to do so for the coming generations.


Tati, brilliant girl that she is (and savvy user of wishing wells) achieved an A grade by Tuesday, and took the rest of the week off school. She settled down in front of the computer and began to teach herself video gaming, of all things! She’ll need it for her career, and it’s nice to have a head start, but I’m troubled by that particular skill’s lack of any tangible rewards of the type that might fill her slot in the family museum.

That’s her club chum, Wolfgang, in the back. He does spend a good deal of time staring at my lovely girl in that puppy-dog fashion. He’s not a vampire, though, . . . yet, so if he becomes a member of the family it will have to be down the road. For now, having a fawning admirer seems to aid Tatiana in maintaining her focus for long gaming sessions (so she says), so we keep him around.

Oh, if only we could have ended the week on Tuesday! Or just continued at that frenzied, successful pace through Saturday night! I’ll stop here before the tale gets dismal, darlings, and let you all believe for a few more days that the Goodnight line is destined for victory.

The axe drops next time.

Hugs and Kisses,


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