This is just going to be a very short oneshot, based on a childhood memory once again! I really hope you enjoy it! I had these sorts of conversations with my mom and dad when I was six or so...

I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/

Canada snuggled under the covers, squirming as France tried to tuck in the corners. France was chuckling, and put a hand on Canada. "Hold still, mon petit, I need to tuck you in so you can go to sleep!"

Giggling madly, Canada kicked at the blanket, causing it to fly up. France grabbed the edges, mock-reprimanding Canada with a shake of his head. "Come on, you need to go to sleep if you're going to grow up big and beautiful like me!"

Canada seized one of his hands with both of his soft baby-hands, looking up with big, pleading eyes. "I wanna stay with you~"

He stuck out his lip at France, who was easily able to pull free of his tiny grip. "Now, now, mon petit, you know you have to go to bed now. So, be a good little one, and lie still for papa, alright?" It took a moment, but Canada was finally still, though he was still happily giggling.

"I'm not soooo tired," he explained, hands resting contemplatively on his tummy. France couldn't help but smile down at him as he tucked him in. "That's okay, I'm sure you'll get tired soon. Goodnight, Canada." He kissed him on both of his rosy, chubby cheeks, which were plumped up in a smile. However, as he turned to leave, Canada cried out.

"Wait! I need help!" France was slightly surprised, but turned back around, leaning down to Canada's level again. "What is it?"

Canada pursed his lips, baby brows knitting together philosophically. "Papa, I don't know what I have to dream about."

France raised his eyebrows. As far as he understood it, dreams were supposed to be whatever the dreamer wanted them to be, right? So, how was he supposed to give advice on something like that?

Seeing as there simply was no proper way to respond to this, France stalled for time. "Well, what do you want to dream about?"

Canada gave a cute little sigh, full of all the despair a tot could muster. He wiped at his eye, replying, "I don't know about it, you have to tell me what to dream!"

"Well, hm... I'll have to think about it," France said, putting a very serious face and sitting down on Canada's bed. He held his chin thoughtfully in his hand, causing Canada's eyes to widen dramatically and his breath to be held back at the intake.

"I think you should dream about us going to a party. With lots of music, and beautiful silk clothes, and luxurious pastries, as well as cake absolutely slathered in cream," France suggested, waving a hand about like an excited rag as he spoke. Canada's eyes lit up like diamonds. "And can there be baby polar bears?"

"There can absolutely be baby polar bears, it's your dream, you silly little thing," France chuckled, ruffling Canada's golden locks, causing said tot to giggle in a very high pitched manner.

France smiled, savoring the moment. If he'd known how few he really had left, he might have savored it longer. As it was, he had no idea, and instead kissed Canada on the forehead, murmuring, "Now it's time to sleep and have that wonderful dream we talked about, alright?"

Canada nodded. "Okay. I love you!"

France stood, heading for the door. "I love you too, mon petit!" And with that, he left.

/AN/ I never knew what to dream about when I was little, and for some reason it distressed me greatly. Good thing my parents were there to tell to dream of eating clouds.