Would it be fun? Evan thought about that for a moment, and shrugged a shoulder. "If she didn't take it out of context, anyway," he mused in mild annoyance. It seemed like now that he wasn't impossible, his siblings were taking up that slack, and it was inherently frustrating. He shook that thought off and heaved a sigh.
"That was a part of the reason I thought it was a good idea for her to have a puppy," he admitted. "Because everyone else does, and she was bound to feel a little bit lonely after Ana came along, but this, hopefully, will avoid that." He smiled a little and placed his hand on her belly. "I bet when Ana's five or so, she'll beg for a puppy of her own, too." It was a funny thought.
He shrugged. "That was my thought, yeah. And remember what we talked about? How they weren't keeping those dogs around for companionship?" he asked, unwittingly putting voice to her thoughts. "I'd have felt awful leaving one there." All of the people who had claimed one were from outside of the safehouse, so it wasn't really an issue.
Creativity was something that Evan always felt he had in spades. Being an artist, it was obviously important, but that he could easily transmit that into parenting was a blessing. "Ma mere had a chore wheel for us when we were children. And for the younger ones, who couldn't read yet, she color coded it. Blue meant dishes, red meant laundry and green meant sweeping. I think Marigold could latch onto something like that fairly quickly. Maybe since the puppy will be her responsibility, we can make a list instead. A list of colored lines and give each line a chore. Sort of like a regular list, but for kids who can't read." He trailed off. "I'm rambling..."
Evan wasn't completely optimistic still, but he was trying to have a better outlook about things. If he expected her to do that, she should have, too. "We could try it," he agreed, though there was a hint, or more than a hint, of doubt plaguing the back of his mind.
Nothing to worry about? Evan wasn't so sure about that, but he didn't press the subject. "That is absolutely not what I meant!" he insisted. "I don't know when 'it's got character' took on such a negative connotation, but when I said 'it's got character' I meant 'it's got character," he said, making a face. "She won't hate it," he insisted.
"That's me!" he said, playing on her seriousness and nodding sagely. "Saint Marchand. Confidence-builder of the mothers to be." He straightened his back, and tried not to wince at the pain in his side. "You didn't know that was what I did these days?"