Author's Note: Jane/Tarzan belong to Walt Disney Studios. Their children/the story belong to me! Enjoy and review :)

Playful shouting echoed in the jungle, disrupting a sloth's slumber and causing colourful birds to start chattering. Jane glanced out her sitting room window and watched as her eldest son Moto swung by on a vine, swiftly followed by his younger brother Greg. Ah, that explained all the commotion. The mother shook her head and focused back on her painting. She hadn't had much time lately to focus on her artwork (motherhood was a full time job) so she had been grateful when her husband offered to teach the boys how to swing on the vines. It seemed they were already better than their mother, something she knew she would hear about later.

Jane sighed, briefly angered by her painting. It wasn't turning out quite how she wanted. The butterfly's wings weren't a bright enough blue and she would have liked her black ink to be a better outline but it didn't seem to be fixable right then. She would have to order some supplies at the shop later in the week. It would take nearly a month to receive it but at least then she wouldn't become quite as vexed as she was at the moment.

Two thuds disrupted her train of thought and the young mother looked around her easel to find her boys, in loin clothes and their dark hair in locks that matched their father's, sitting on their rears near the doorway. She smiled, wondering what they wanted now.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked, trying not to sound tense. Jane really needed to focus on her work.

Moto, who was eight, shook his head innocently. "No, not really. We just wanted to see what you were doing," he replied with a British overtone that he had picked up from listening to his mother over the years.

Jane shook her head as her six year old nodded. "Well as you can see, I'm not doing anything that exciting." She glanced out the door, wondering where Tarzan had gone off to. "Where's your father? I thought he was watching you."

Just as she said that, Tarzan swung in the doorway and nearly collided with his sons' backs. With a chuckle he stepped over the boys and walked over to his wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi Jane! How's the painting going?" He asked, taking a look at the insect.

Jane gave her husband a strained smile. "Not as well as I'd hoped, but at least it's better than nothing. I thought you were teaching the boys how to swing?"

He nodded. "I was! I mean I am. They got away from me and I figured they just came home to eat something. Are you hungry boys?" The children shook their heads. Tarzan smirked and picked them up with one hand each, holding them upside down as they squealed.

"Well then come on, let's get on the vines. Maybe we can visit Grandpa if he's not napping."

Once the boys were back on their feet, Greg looked back at his mother. "Can Mama come?"

Jane chuckled and shook her head. "No, not today."

Greg and Moto both pouted. "Why not?"

Tarzan shook his head and tugged on a lock of each of their hair. "We talked about this yesterday, didn't we? Mama can't go swinging until your little brother or sister is born, remember?"

The boys exchanged a glance, the memory of the day before coming back to them, then turned back to their parents and nodded. Her sons waved goodbye then grabbed onto a vine and were off.

Tarzan chuckled. "Guess I'd better catch up to them. Do you need me to get you anything?"

"Some bananas please. They help settle my stomach for some strange reason." The jungle man nodded then disappeared to follow his boys. Jane let out a sigh, leaning back against her chair as she glanced at her belly. Yes, another six months until she could swing on a vine. Oh well, at least she had an excuse to get her painting done.

'Now if only I had the right shade of blue!'