"I can't believe they let you teach."

Juliet was Very Excited that her father was her size today--or least a lot closer than he normally was, so he had a pile of baby toys in his lap as she kept bringing him things to play with.

Anakin glanced up at Rory and sighed with all of the patience of a not-terribly patient nine year old. "Can I go play with real toys soon?"

[OOC: for the fake!wife!]

Darth Buckethead, still wearing his bucket, pressed his hands up against the window and sighed.

He wanted to go out and play, but he couldn't find his robe.

Life was very hard.

Looking around quickly for Logan, he darted back to the phone and began to entertain himself by leaving messages again.

Whee, crank calls!

A very small boy with a bucket over his head--thanks for that, Friday's toy chest--toddled down the hallway and made his way down the stairs.

Bounce-bounce-bounce.

Rear ends are great for that.

He made his way into the kitchen and leaned up onto his tiptoes to reach the cereal--something bright with incomprehensible writing on the side--and tipped about half of it onto the floor.

Exasperated, he lifted the bucket off of his eyes to see. Bright blue eyes gazed around the room and settled on the telephone.

Ooooh. He could call all of his friends!

Or punch random numbers and leave messages...which is what a four-year-old is much more inclined to do...

[OOC: Open for housemates and friends who know who this is. Radio squirrels--buckethead kid doesn't have a name...]