Bilbo Baggins was never convinced by all those doting ladies who claimed children were the world’s little rays of sunshine.
“Little angels” they called them, and Bilbo wondered if they were blind, or deaf, or both.
To him children were primarily a constant source of horrific noise and movement, little destroyers of clean fabrics, floors, plates; clean anything, really.
They could not be trusted to be around anything of value or importance and they most certainly could not be trusted around Bag End.
A point which was just now being demonstrated by the presence of two adolescent Hobbits playing around in the bushes just outside his front gate.
“Ewww! It’s moving!” one was screeching.
“You kicked its nest! There will be hundreds of them in a minute!” The other one was saying in a voice that heralded to the world that its owner would always believe himself to know
“It’s crawling away! Catch it, catch it!!”
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