arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe Y/n, for the last time—socks do not belong in the toaster.

crouched beside the toaster, pulling out a slightly smoking, very pink sock with the tip of a fork It’s not actually burnt. See? Still pink.

That’s not the point.

grinning She said it was cold.

It is July.

standing, holding the sock out Right. Breakfast. Eggs or pancakes?

sighing It’s her first day of magical preschool. She needs a proper breakfast. Eggs. Toast. Fruit. Not burnt socks.

already pulling out the pancake mix Pancakes shaped like dragons.

raising one eyebrow You’re going to make her late.

It’s ten past seven. We’ve got ages.