I do not own the TMNT and have not written this for anything beside pure creative pleasure.

Please review. I am trying to improve my writing skills and would love any

feedback you could possibly offer.

Thank you!

Thank you for those who reviewed. I was only teasing about the "won't continue" part if I didn't get reviews. I would never do that. I have some supposed "friends" who were quite harsh on their personal reviews to me and I was feeling a little down. You helped me salvage my self-esteem.

Know that you are much appreciated.

Amber

Littlest

Chapter 2

For a single father of four, I was quite proud of the home I had created for my sons. Even though our home was in the sewers to protect us from the humans that would not understand us, the place was warm, dry, and cozy. I had taken every precaution to insure that none of my sons could toddle in harms way. In fact, I had even constructed a nursery that I could place my sons in and know that they were safe when I had to forage for food, supplies, or any baby needs I had at the moment.

I had settled down quite happily in my role of head of household. I cannot remember a time that I have been so content with my life even compared to the happy times with my master.

Leonardo had learned a new word today after I took him and his brothers on a small walk through the safest part of the sewers. He had heard a young human boy through a grate leading to the surface tell his friends that his new bicycle was "radical." Since then I and everything in the lair was quickly dubbed "radical." "Radical chair! Radical Daddy! Radical everything! Radical! Radical! Radical." Imagine my surprise when little Donatello hearing his brother, exclaimed quite loudly "Excellent!" to which Raphael followed up with "Awesome!" Michelangelo laughed and danced around his brothers delighting in their new grammar. Yes, my sons were quickly picking up on their surroundings and participating quite whole-heartedly. In fact, Raphael even seemed to be beginning to exhibit a slight accent reminiscent of the area humans call "Bronx."

The only mar to my happiness was my littlest's lack of speech. I had come to the conclusion that Michelangelo was a bit younger than his brothers were, but he should have started saying some simple words by now. Leonardo and Donatello were even beginning to pick up on Michelangelo's lack of speech and had started teasing him. Just this afternoon I had observed and broken apart a small battle being waged.

"Ittle baby! Ittle baby!" Leonardo chanted running around Michelangelo.

"Baby! No talk-talk! Dum-dum baby!" Donatello also sang from his vantage point watching his older brother's antics.

Michelangelo was clutching his stuffed panda and sobbing. Raphael planted himself in Leonardo's path and wouldn't allow him to get any closer to his baby brother.

"Ya mean!" Raphael declared, "Leave my baby lone. He no wanta talk-talk with boo-boo heads."

Leonardo and Donatello pounced on Raphael. I quickly intervened when it became a free-for-all. Each were placed in a corner, two for teasing their brother and fighting while the other for simply fighting even if I did secretly applaud his protective instincts for his little brother. I picked up Michelangelo and began to soothe him for his distressed wails were splitting my eardrums. Michelangelo gripped the fur on my chest and sniffled into my kimono until calm.

Sitting him down on the floor, I went and got the surprise I had brought for him and his brothers. I had found an unopened pack of crayons that were meant for small hands. The crayons were thick and in the colors of black, brown, green, blue, yellow, red, orange, and purple. Placing the crayons and some sheets of construction paper in front of Michelangelo, I demonstrated how the crayons left marks on the paper. My son was simply delighted and clapped his small hands before reaching for the orange crayon. He colored happily for the rest of the afternoon.

My other three sons were eventually allowed out of time-out and wandered off to play in their nursery, all ill will between them forgotten. Enjoying the quiet, I indulged myself in a pot of tea and some light reading between checking on my small wards. Yes, everything was at peace for the moment and I was thoroughly enjoying the break.

When evening crept up on me, I prepared my sons' dinner. I had to eat after my sons ate or I would not get to eat my food while it was warm. I had already settled Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello into their salvaged highchairs when I went to fetch Michelangelo. He sat surrounded by his crayoned art. When I picked up my youngest he refused to relinquish a crumpled piece of construction paper. Reaching the kitchen, I quickly settled Michelangelo into his highchair and turned to get my sons dinner when I heard a new little voice.

"Dada ookey."

Spinning around, I glanced at my youngest who was holding his piece of paper out to me. Enchanted, I kneeled down and took the paper from Michelangelo. The paper contained a brown, orange, red, blue, and purple bunch of scribbles. His big brown eyes sparkled at me happily as he pointed to the brown scribble and then to me and said, "Dada." He then pointed to the red scribble and then to Raphael and said, "Ra-ra," Then he pointed to the blue scribble and then to Leonardo and said "Le-le." Then to the purple scribble and then to Donatello and said "Don-don." Finally, he pointed to the orange scribble and then himself and said "Me-me."

My other three sons laughed in delight when I picked up Michelangelo and swung him around in a circle chuckling at his first words. Michelangelo squealed happily and held his arms out. Hugging him to me, I felt his small arms squeeze me back. A small whispered "Dada" brushed my sensitive ears and brought tears to my eyes. Yes! Michelangelo has spoken and he would be just fine. I felt immensely proud of my littlest.

My sons are now settled in bed sleeping and I have the rest of the night to myself. Yet I am still here with them guarding my babies dreams. Soon I will have to scavenge for a frame to hang up Michelangelo's first artwork. I will also let you know of one little bit of vanity on my part. How delightful it is to have one of my sons' first words be "Dada." Good night.

The End