As soon as his hair was ruffled, the curls lightly bounced back into place; the boy pushed his frames further up the bridge of his nose to observe Alexia’s soft expression, bringing a smile to Thomas’ lips in exchange. “‘Ello, ma,” Thomas huffed as she walked around him, rising his shoulders and squinting as soon as his mother sweetly kissed his mop. Although the gesture attempted to convey that he wasn’t too keen on displays of affection toward him, the boy secretly adored the motherly comfort she seemed to exude. It eased him into every day, assured him that he was on the right track, told him he was a valid member of the family despite his blindfold of youth, obscuring him of the spanning view of life that adults knew all too well. When 'Mom' retreated back to the counter, a familiarly broad hand could be felt on Thomas’ shoulder, its warmth bringing a stern yet soft sort of vibe that could only be exposed by Grandpa David. “Mornin’, Grandpa~ Doesn’t mom and Grandma Rose make the best eggs? Besides the chooks, of course.” Thomas tilted his head back to gaze upon the classic, solemn but glistening eyes of his elder, admiring his wise eyes that seemed to tell stories to Thomas, when peered into them.<br/><br/>After David moved away, Alistair, standing lone against a wall of the room, caught Thomas’ eye. He promptly hopped out of his chair to walk to him. “Uncle Al! Uh, can I call you that? It’s got a nice ring to it, heh.” Thomas admitted, realising after overhearing the young adult’s statement that he didn’t seem so keen on nicknames. Alistair had always been apart of the family for as much as Thomas knew. No one really talked to Thomas about how Alistair wasn’t technically related by blood, or as to how he got here - Alistair to Thomas just was a sweet and polite uncle. He, as much as every single other person, was family; perhaps not talking about the past was a good thing for Thomas. It wasn’t really anything he needed to know about at this time anyway, as well as the fact that the child’s impression of him was never skewed or his tender actions to him subconsciously different. “You’ll feel better after a spot of breakfast, I think.” Thomas comforted, raising a hand in expectance of receiving a high-five. High-fives always cheered people up, according to school children.<br/><br/>At the sound of Rose announcing there to be ‘deluxe omelets’ taking place that morning, Thomas beamed with a satisfied<span style="font-style: italic">‘yesssss~’</span>, spinning on his heels to grin at Rose. “I’ll be in charge of my toast!” He finally declared, happily walking to the bread drawer and retrieving the family-renowned homemade bread, a special recipe, one that many would travel to their humble farm for. Taking two pre-cut slices, before anyone could protest, Thomas stood on his tip-toes, popped the slices into the kitchen toaster... And stared. Propped his head with his arms on the counter and stared the machine down.<br/><br/>He eyed the bread being tainted by fire as though it were being toasted through the intense beams supposedly radiating out of his own eyes.<span style="font-style: italic">Stareeeeeeee-</span><br/><br/>The boy almost went cross-eyed before the toaster finally released the loaf slices, the soothing smell of cooked flour wafting through the breezy air of the room. Although it being a bit too early to make toast before the eggs were even made, he placed them on a plate and moved to the dining table, resting the plate on his usual part of the gathering place; at the end, on the left hand side. His little campaign completed, he turned around with a sheepish smile to notice Conor right behind him, by the kitchen doorway. “Ah, hey, morning Dad. How’s the barn?” Thomas waved, looking up at his father with warm eyes. He adored his father’s strong and practical attitude, even if he could seem harsh at times. But then again, his strict teachings would only ever come with a valuable lesson, often moral lessons that had built Thomas into the open and caring person that he were today. The boy had an attitude that could have only been adopted from the best of influences.