"Yes." Sammie nodded, the word limping a little under the hiss of a lisp. He'd lost a lower front tooth to an apple several days before, delighted to find a penny under his pillow as an unexplained result.
"You're very young to be playing guide to smaller folk," Sam pointed out, smiling. It was difficult for him to stop smiling around Sammie - around any of his little ones, but Sammie was so miraculous and unexpected that the feeling was doubled.
"Young is as young does," Sammie shot back, using one of his Sam-dad's own sayings against him.
"All right, then. If you feel you're ready to be teaching, then I hope the class learns proper like."
"Sam-dad..."
"What is it, lad?" Sam put the bucket aside and crouched beside the small boy. "What's the matter?"
"Everyone is always talking about me, I hear them when they think I'm not listening. I... I don't think I can be what they all think I can. I'm not special, and I'm not well-behaved... I try to be good, Dad, I really do, but there are so many exciting things that aren't allowed and I don't know why they're not allowed so it just doesn't seem to make sense not to do them -"
"Sammie, Sammie, hush." Sam enveloped him in a hug, stroking Sammie's thatch of dark hair. "Other folk's disappointment is no concern of yours. Your Mum and your Dad and your Uncle love you for who you are, which is Sammie Gardner. No more, no less. If we all spent our time trying to be as big and bold as stories ask us to be, there'd never get any cooking or weeding done, if you follow me."
"Are you sure?" Sammie sniffed against his father's weskit.
"Yes. Now help me with this bucket, and we'll go make your pond."
~