Turning two was a strange mix of pride, chaos, and sheer exhaustion—for everyone but me, of course.
To me, life was simple: crawl, grab, babble, levitate toys, and occasionally make my sisters scream in delight or terror. But now, I could walk. Sort of. Wobbly little steps, hands in the air like wings, each movement a tiny adventure.
Clara, as usual, declared herself my trainer. "Zackie, today you will master walking magic! You must combine mobility with spell control!"
I blinked at her. "Walking… and magic? Are you serious?"
Lina giggled from her perch on the couch. "Yes! And if you fail, you must survive my Toy Barrage!" She held a soft block, grinning mischievously.
I groaned internally. Life as a toddler mage was more complicated than my first life had ever been.
---
The first attempt started with a simple spell. I focused on a floating rattle, directing it with my tiny hand as I took my first few careful steps.
It wobbled, shook, and… zoomed across the room, narrowly missing Clara's head.
"ZACKIEEE!!" she shrieked, flailing like a windmill.
I squealed in frustration, waving my hands to stop it. But my spell misfired, and suddenly three pillows lifted from the floor and hovered in a clumsy formation. One toppled over, spilling a small basket of toys across Lina's lap.
"OOOH! He's attacking!" Lina laughed hysterically, ducking the rolling toys.
The maids shrieked, scrambling to protect vases and teacups. Even the butler, normally unshakable, muttered something about "children these days…" under his breath as he cautiously retreated to safer ground.
Elena appeared silently, notebook in hand. She crouched beside me, eyes sharp, observing my clumsy coordination. "Promising," she murmured softly, almost as if she were amused—but in the way a strategist studies an unpredictable opponent.
I blinked at her, tiny cheeks puffing. Her quiet approval felt like a warm shield.
---
By mid-morning, chaos had escalated to a full-blown magical circus.
I attempted to levitate my sippy cup while walking toward Clara. It wobbled, bounced, then—plop!—landed in Lina's hair.
"Ow! ZACKIEEE!!" Lina screamed, giggling and trying to shake the cup out.
Clara clutched her forehead dramatically. "He's a danger to the entire nursery! But… he's brilliant!"
I giggled uncontrollably, tiny legs wobbling as I tried to balance both magic and walking.
The maids, of course, were panicking. One yelled, "This child… is unnatural!" Another muttered, "I will never recover from this day…" The butler quietly swept the floating debris, muttering about "a battle no one will ever forget."
Even in the midst of chaos, I felt something else.
The faint, comforting smile. My little sister's smile from my past life. Only when I pushed myself, only when I felt scared, confused, or overwhelmed. It reminded me why I had to grow stronger. Why I had to master magic.
Not for applause. Not for the chaos.
For that smile.
---
By afternoon, my skills improved slightly. I could levitate two toys at once while crawling, and take a few wobbly steps without tripping.
Clara cheered, tossing ribbons in the air like confetti. "See, Zackie?! You're improving every day!"
Lina rolled her eyes but ruffled my hair anyway. "Don't get cocky, genius. You're still my little brother, and I'll protect my title as the chaos queen."
Even Elena finally spoke more than a single word. "Your focus has improved," she said calmly. "Continue practicing. You may surprise us all."
I squeaked with pride. Approval from Elena, in full sentences? Better than a floating rattle or a flying pillow.
---
As the day drew to a close, the nursery looked like a miniature battlefield. Toys scattered across the floor. Milk puddles shimmered in the afternoon light. Feathers floated lazily from earlier mishaps.
And yet… there was laughter. Screams of excitement. Cheers. Even Elena's quiet, approving gaze.
I sat in my crib, tiny hands clutching a soft block, and for the first time, I felt truly at home.
Magic. Laughter. Chaos. Love.
Even as a toddler, I understood something important:
This family… this world… they weren't just my playground.
They were my reason to grow stronger.
One floating toy, one spilled bottle, one wobbly step at a time.
Because someday, I would have to face far greater challenges.
And I wanted to be ready.