Tim eyed his princesses carefully, bouncing the sleeping baby in his arms.

“What are you up to?” he asked Daphne, whose overly large bow would be nearly comical on the side of her head if it wasn’t for the serious expression on her face. Astoria twittered by her sister’s side, seemingly anxious to answer her father’s question, but waiting for the approval. Daphne lifted her chin.

“We have decided,” the older sister began. Her hand struck out and she pointed a stiff finger at at Tim, or more precisely, at the baby boy in his arms, “That Timothy needs to go back where he came from.”

“CALL THE STORK!” Astoria yelped, her curls bouncing wildly around her head. Her hands quickly went up to cover her mouth, however, at the sight of her sister’s glare. She straightened up and whispered, “Please, call the stork.”

“Huh.” Tim tried his best to hide his amusement and instead took on a look of thoughtfulness, “Where does the stork live? Does he take returns?”

“He must!” Daphne exclaimed, “Why should you have to keep something around that you don’t want anymore!”

“Why don’t you want your brother? You’ve had him for two years now,” Tim argued, wondering where this sudden desire to be rid of Timothy had come from. The two girls had pampered their little brother since he was brought home from the hospital, always commenting on how glad they were to have a little prince to protect their castle. “He’s not a good enough knight anymore?”

Daphne scoffed, “He’s more like a wicked little dragon.”

“He broke Daphy’s crown!” Astoria squeaked. Tim watched as his eldest daughter’s face grew purple at the thought of her precious tiara, one that her grandmother had given her for her last birthday. The shriek she had illicited at the sight of the broken-in-half headpiece being gnawed on by her two-year-old brother still left a ringing in Tim’s ears.

He could understand why they wanted to get rid of the little monster.