It would take a day or two for the crack to fade, and Elder Kettle made sure to tell the boys not to play as rough next time once the patch work was done. Mugman’s cries quieted to whimpers and then to sniffles. “Everything will be okay,” he spoke softly along the way. Taking Cuphead in his other arm, Elder Kettle headed for his bedroom, knowing all his boy needed was a bit of porcelain touchup and some glue. It was a small enough nick that could be fixed in seconds, and he presumed the cries were from being startled when he fell and not from any pain. It was at this point Elder Kettle noticed a chip in Mugman’s handle. He nibbled his gloves, avoiding the kettle’s eyes as his own filled with anxious tears. Once again the tiny cup couldn’t explain. “Yes, but how did he get hurt? Do you know?” Cuphead, what happened?”Ĭuphead didn’t know how to put it in his own words, and the stare from his caretaker wasn’t helping. Come here, my boy.” Elder Kettle scooped the little one in his arms, doing his best to lower the volume of his cries. The kettle’s attention quickly went to the tot in blue, who was bawling his eyes out while his brother gently shook his shoulder, unsure of what to do. Then he was startled out of his rocking chair by the sound of his youngest’s cries. He watched them play for a couple minutes more, his eyes drooping every now and then for a brief moment’s rest. They hadn’t yet mastered balance, but boy were they fast on all fours as opposed to two. He chuckled as the children staggered on their wobbly legs before having to resort to crawling.
Whoever was the last to sit up had to chase the winner around the den, and once they were tagged, they started all over again.Įlder Kettle had no idea what to call their game, but it was harmless enough. From the moment he was able to call them his own up until they could string together actual words around their babbling speech, there wasn’t a time when either little cup or mug couldn’t find something to do.Įvery other second the pair would get super close to each other, nose-to-nose, then collapse on their backs in a giggling fit and see which one could get up the quickest. For the Elder Kettle, describing his boys as imaginative seemed like an understatement.
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