Big blue tearful eyes, pouting pink lips and unlike her siblings a mop of soft blonde hair, Charlotte wrapped her parents in her tiny hands. Every whim Charlotte demanded met, or the consequences for her parents were a headache, tantrums at all hours. When peaceful, Charlotte seemed inquisitive, exploring her surroundings, when she thinks no one is watching, but a misstep or sudden noise triggered her attention-seeking behaviour.
Charlotte’s tears were intense, Emilie busied with the younger two siblings leaving Eliza to fend for herself. Spending time with Patrick had been fun, when he was younger, his growing independence brought with it an argumentive streak, meaning he rejected Eliza’s assistance with activities. Rylan buried his head in work, ignoring chaos, leaving Emilie with her hands full and Eliza tidying thrown clothes and books, and cleaning the mess Patrick made with her paints. Her head pounding, Eliza headed to the park, catching up with friends, the escape required ice cream and chess.
Eliza wanted to create her a club, friends who enjoyed creative play, homework and needed to escape the craziness of younger siblings. They would be the Social Butterflies, an unoriginal title for an imaginative group, but it worked. A few school friends, Niko, Clementine and Ashley were eager members, and the park, with its outdoor pool and Pirate ship, was their perfect space to unwind.
Emilie needed to relax, being a mother meant everything, the time with her children would be irreplaceable as they grew. Some days she needs to let her hair down and be “Emilie”, a few hours being herself, instead of wife and mother. Ziva held an open invitation, although part of their night was listening to Emilie complain, Rylan continued to focus on work, maintaining his B-list Celebrity status, as for help with the children, he enjoyed the fun parts, playing with them, but discipline, all their other needs, Emilie met these. Knocking back a shot, Ziva yanked Emilie to the dancefloor, the live vibrant music overloaded their sense, and she released pent-up tension into the rhythm.
Nightclub loud seemed the order of the day, Eliza suffered most from the lack of attention. At school, she bored with her lessons, feeling unchallenged by the education, at home, Eliza needed stimulus. Her social group came over regularly, they swam, and enjoyed the outdoor space, when she was alone, Eliza turned up the stereo, air guitar in hand. From her perspective, the music drowns the sound of Charlotte’s intense crying, her parents unimpressed. Eliza screwed her nose up at her baby sister, their life revolved in diaper changes since she refused the potty, bottles and midnight needs, being the eldest she felt alone.
Patrick adored Eliza, he looked to her for everything, except when she tried to help, he slapped her hand, telling her “No! Naughty!”, determined he would be good without. Eliza pretends to cry, turning her back peering over her shoulder to check his progress, ignoring him when he checked to see if she was hurt or playing. She was proud of him, excited for his first day at school, promising to hold his hand on the way.
By the Grace of Sim Gods 