AN: This is nothing big, just a (very short) one-shot. It's about the Pevensies (mostly Edmund and Lucy) when they were little. I hadn't done anything with the Pevensies as little kids in a while, and I thought this would be sorta cute. Not a very complicated plot: Basicly little Edmund picks on little Lucy because she's smaller than him and he thinks she doesn't know how to talk yet. He is in for a surprise.

What was so special about that little waddling, tottering doll of an infant Mum had brought home from the hospital nearly a year and a half ago?

Well, nothing apparent, thought the nearly three year old Edmund rather grumpily.

At first she just sort of slept and pooped and cried a lot; although father said that she cried far less than Peter, Susan, and Ed himself had at that age. Then she had learned to crawl and started more or less following Peter around whenever she was let out of her crib.

She was bright-eyed and, yes, Edmund had to admit, a little sullenly, cute; but he still didn't see why everyone made such a big fuss over 'the baby'. All she had to do was look up at either of their older siblings, or else their parents, and instantly attention was showered upon her. A simple giggle often resulted in a charmed audience.

On the other hand, when Edmund laughed, everybody tended to assume that he might be up to some mischief and exchanged worried glances. More often than not, at least one family member was wont to check the candy-tin in the kitchen cupboard to be sure he hadn't somehow managed to swipe some Turkish Delight without permission.

He could see it clear as day when he looked at his mother and Susan. That clear, 'All right, what has Ed done now?' look. He didn't much like that look; it always made him feel a little guilty, even when he hadn't been up to anything particularly naughty.

On this day, he was feeling more irritated with his baby sister than usual, though he really hadn't any cause for it aside from stereotypical sibling rivalry. He could see baby Lucy sitting on a rug in the living room, beaming down at a little stuffed dog she was playing with; one of its floppy fabric ears in her mouth (she was beginning her teething-time).

Staring over at her, Edmund couldn't help thinking that it would be great fun to rush up to her and give her a quick shove-more of a nudge, to be exact-and then run away and laugh.

Now you mustn't think this was because he was wicked child from an early age, indeed, he was not quite so horrible at three. Simply, he was almost too young to really know better. This, you must remember, was some time before he was old enough to attend that horrid school which would bring out the worst of his qualities to dangerous extremes. And as all humans, even the very nicest sort of children, are born with flaws they must over-come, part of Edmund's was that he had an unnatural liking for teasing or picking-on someone smaller than himself. Perhaps this was because there weren't very many persons who fit that description. He wasn't stupid enough to pick on Peter and Susan. Peter was too big, and Susan had a real set of lungs on her.

If he dared to rush up to Susan and give her a shove, or attempt to pull one of her long black pig-tails (which was rather tempting at times), she'd scream for Mum at once and he'd find himself in a time-out. Edmund did not like time-outs.

Lucy, however, was so little that she didn't seem to know how to talk yet. Coaxing from both parents hadn't gotten anywhere at this point, and Peter's attempts to get her to say his name only ended up with her hugging his leg and smiling.

So, thinking he was very likely to get away with this jest, Edmund crept over to his baby sister, preparing to put his plan into action.

As soon as Lucy saw him she brightened up, delighted to have company. The rest of the family was only two rooms or so away, figuring she was going to keep herself amused with her little doggie-toy for a while and so they needn't bother about her; but after a while, to a child who is little more than an infant, just barely a toddler, such a situation can begin to feel as lonely as if they are miles and miles away. She hadn't realized she was lonely until she noticed the younger of her two brothers. Given, he was not her favorite family member-that was a tie between her father and Peter-but she was thrilled to see him nonetheless.

Ready to be friends, she actually took the dog's ear out of her mouth and offered the toy to her brother. Of course he refused it, thinking he would rather eat dirt (he actually did that once and Susan told on him) than play with a chewed-on, scrappy looking thing like that.

Quickly looking both ways, seeing no one, Edmund smirked at her, reached out his hand, and gave her a quick nudge; not a sharp, brutal one to hurt her, though it did certainly knock her down on her side.

Just as he was turning to run, thinking he could get away with fast-walking if he liked, the most surprising thing happened.

"Pay-ter, Emun 'ush me!" little Lucy whimpered out her first words (meaning, of course, 'Peter, Edmund pushed me') as Peter entered the room carrying a picture book he had thought she would like to see.

"She talk?" Edmund gulped nervously. Who knew?

"Apparently," said Peter, his eyebrows lowered, glaring at his little brother.

Lucy sat up and giggled.

"Wittle children do tay the funniest tings." Edmund smiled pretend-innocently.

"Not that funny," growled Peter. "Go say sorry."

Edmund pouted and folded his arms across his chest. Frowning at Lucy, he huffed, "torry!"

Lucy nodded and went back to playing peacefully.

"Say, Mum," Peter commented that night at suppertime when they were all sitting round the table except for 'the baby' who was in her high-chair; "did you hear what Lucy's first words were?"

And Edmund lowered himself in his seat.

AN: Review if you like.