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13:44 CEST", "last_file_update_datetime": "2016-05-13 23:23:32.620519+00", "last_file_update_datetime_usertime": "14 May 2016 01:23 CEST", "username": "Chrontius", "user_id": "48098", "user_icon_file_name": "14783_Chrontius_awesum-icon.gif", "user_icon_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/14/14783_Chrontius_awesum-icon.gif", "user_icon_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/14/14783_Chrontius_awesum-icon.gif", "user_icon_url_small": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/14/14783_Chrontius_awesum-icon.gif", "file_name": "1505436_Chrontius_20160513192900_001.jpg", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/1505/1505436_Chrontius_20160513192900_001.jpg", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/1505/1505436_Chrontius_20160513192900_001.jpg", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/1505/1505436_Chrontius_20160513192900_001.jpg", "thumbnail_url_huge_noncustom": 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They knew that dragonets could be a handful, and when they had twins they knew they were in for a challenge, but there were resources and best practices and while dragons were difficult to raise, they were difficult in reliable, predictable ways. In the interest of avoiding many trips to the emergency department - or at least urgent care - for stitches, the two were reclawed at six months - the first week the window for the procedure opened, in fact. Early on, she worried she had overreacted to the advice column; for almost a year she regretted having it done. From eighteen to twenty four months, she began to see that the columnists may have had a point - the roughhousing got rougher, and she could easily see how the furniture, carpet, and walls would all need replacing in a few years, otherwise. Every bruise that would have been a laceration was a balm to her doubts. She could understand why they expected at least three quarters of the three-year-olds entering kindergarten to be reclawed by the time her kits reached that age.\n\nShe probably could have handled either of them, but together, not only were there two of them, but she could only keep her eyes glued to one of them at a time - and on top of that, they riled each other up to heights of hyperactivity, gymnastics, and [i]le parkour[/i] that she had trouble believing once seen, let alone imagining or anticipating. Naturally, if she tried to duplicate them, she expected she'd kick the house down trying to keep up.\n\nThing is, the situation wasn't content to remain constant. The two of them were continuing to bulk up - at a more leisurely rate now, but steady nonetheless - and their daring increased in lockstep with their body mass and strength.\n\nShe had scoffed when she read about some having their offspring cut at age two, but once they had actually started kicking down the house themselves, she started to change her mind. Toby had put his foot through an exterior wall, knocking over a bookshelf, becoming trapped, and faceplanted into the wall, and needed stitches in both his chin and the ankle he trapped - injured once when he fell with his weight on it, and again when he tried to pull it free. She had considered it a miracle at the time that his leg wasn't broken, let alone mangled, ruined, and [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Degloving]degloved[/url]. Marcus was clever enough to support his twin brother, taking weight off the injury, and scream radio at everyone nearby until help arrived three minutes and eighteen seconds later in the form of a passing neighbor with dragon-compatible radio implants.\n\nOnce again, the advice columnists may have had a point. The F1 dragons - the first filial generation, the first natural-born dragons - were having some teething issues that the F0 dragons - those turned in adulthood, or even childhood - had not experienced. In hindsight, there may have been too much feline in their genome, or in the attempt to make young dragons more independent, the ODP team had overcompensated and allowed them to physically mature faster than they could gain wisdom. Instead of being helpless and high maintenance, young dragons were [i]precocious[/i] and high maintenance. Like otters, they could disassemble most anything designed to keep them in, or like felines, scale it or jump it. Like canines, with whom they shared a little less DNA, they could just as easily go under it, if the substrate permitted. They asked far too many \"why\"-based questions than their parents - who had once been mere mortals - could keep up with, and they got into _everything._ And on top of that, they liked high places before their wings really worked right. At least, that was the stereotype - this family was congenitally wingless, and that didn't stop them from the climbing and jumping.\n\nBy twenty six months, she was in mortal terror for the two little hellions, whose valor had continued to outpace their discretion. So when she handed you the brochure -\n[q]Breeders' Special:\nKits and their parents fixed for $50 a tail, any age.\nDone Breeding?\nHave yourself fixed and we'll fix your last kit while we're at it, free of charge.[/q] - and told you she was taking the twins in to have them gentled, taking advantage of a new Bodyshoppe program, you really couldn't argue with her reasoning, laid out in tense phone calls across the last six months. She asks you to go with, to help her corral the terrible two - there's no option to say no; she simply can't do the job on her own - so you ping an automatic taxi, and soon you're waiting in line.\n\nThere are others there like you, equally at wit's end. Others are being preemptive, with younger kits - a few nearly hatchlings - and if they had any doubts when they arrived, watching you and yours are quickly dispelling them. A few are older, calmer; the alteration probably isn't strictly necessary for them, but the school board is making noises about delaying entry for intact pupils, rescinding the early admission that dragonets were offered back when most of them were turned - younger F0 dragons, not natural-born F1s. \n\nAt the moment, well, you're thinking about that ad in the paper. Or, well, you were before you were distracted. What she'd be saying, were her mouth not full, was \"Would you come over here and help wrangle your offspring? This one keeps running off.\" Had she known you were snatching the moral equivalent of panty flashes, I don't think it'd help her mood any. Still, if you weren't, you might have realized that it's the same $100 whether the terrible two get cut, or you all do, and asked your wife whether she has strong feelings about whether she wants to do this again any time this century.\n\n[q]PS: Thanks to CeilYurie who helps me figure out why this setting is proceeding from utopian to warped, and is helping me wrap some plot around it all. Your thoughtful bioconservative musings help me sharpen my thoughts, and the words \"minimum-effort\" are my hat-tip to you.[/q]", "description_bbcode_parsed": "When raising two adolescent wildcats, the minimum-effort approach to parenting starts to look better and better every day.  They knew that dragonets could be a handful, and when they had twins they knew they were in for a challenge, but there were resources and best practices and while dragons were difficult to raise, they were difficult in reliable, predictable ways.  In the interest of avoiding many trips to the emergency department - or at least urgent care - for stitches, the two were reclawed at six months - the first week the window for the procedure opened, in fact.  Early on, she worried she had overreacted to the advice column; for almost a year she regretted having it done.  From eighteen to twenty four months, she began to see that the columnists may have had a point - the roughhousing got rougher, and she could easily see how the furniture, carpet, and walls would all need replacing in a few years, otherwise.  Every bruise that would have been a laceration was a balm to her doubts.  She could understand why they expected at least three quarters of the three-year-olds entering kindergarten to be reclawed by the time her kits reached that age.

She probably could have handled either of them, but together, not only were there two of them, but she could only keep her eyes glued to one of them at a time - and on top of that, they riled each other up to heights of hyperactivity, gymnastics, and le parkour that she had trouble believing once seen, let alone imagining or anticipating.  Naturally, if she tried to duplicate them, she expected she'd kick the house down  trying to keep up.

Thing is, the situation wasn't content to remain constant.  The two of them were continuing to bulk up - at a more leisurely rate now, but steady nonetheless - and their daring increased in lockstep with their body mass and strength.

She had scoffed when she read about some having their offspring cut at age two, but once they had actually started kicking down the house themselves, she started to change her mind.  Toby had put his foot through an exterior wall, knocking over a bookshelf, becoming trapped, and faceplanted into the wall, and needed stitches in both his chin and the ankle he trapped - injured once when he fell with his weight on it, and again when he tried to pull it free.  She had considered it a miracle at the time that his leg wasn't broken, let alone mangled, ruined, and degloved.  Marcus was clever enough to support his twin brother, taking weight off the injury, and scream radio at everyone nearby until help arrived three minutes and eighteen seconds later in the form of a passing neighbor with dragon-compatible radio implants.

Once again, the advice columnists may have had a point.  The F1 dragons - the first filial generation, the first natural-born dragons - were having some teething issues that the F0 dragons - those turned in adulthood, or even childhood - had not experienced.  In hindsight, there may have been too much feline in their genome, or in the attempt to make young dragons more independent, the ODP team had overcompensated and allowed them to physically mature faster than they could gain wisdom.  Instead of being helpless and high maintenance, young dragons were precocious and high maintenance.  Like otters, they could disassemble most anything designed to keep them in, or like felines, scale it or jump it.  Like canines, with whom they shared a little less DNA, they could just as easily go under it, if the substrate permitted.  They asked far too many "why"-based questions than their parents - who had once been mere mortals - could keep up with, and they got into _everything._  And on top of that, they liked high places before their wings really worked right.  At least, that was the stereotype - this family was congenitally wingless, and that didn't stop them from the climbing and jumping.

By twenty six months, she was in mortal terror for the two little hellions, whose valor had continued to outpace their discretion.  So when she handed you the brochure -
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
"\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tBreeders' Special:
Kits and their parents fixed for $50 a tail, any age.
Done Breeding?
Have yourself fixed and we'll fix your last kit while we're at it, free of charge.\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t - and told you she was taking the twins in to have them gentled, taking advantage of a new Bodyshoppe program, you really couldn't argue with her reasoning, laid out in tense phone calls across the last six months.  She asks you to go with, to help her corral the terrible two - there's no option to say no; she simply can't do the job on her own - so you ping an automatic taxi, and soon you're waiting in line.

There are others there like you, equally at wit's end.  Others are being preemptive, with younger kits - a few nearly hatchlings - and if they had any doubts when they arrived, watching you and yours are quickly dispelling them.  A few are older, calmer; the alteration probably isn't strictly necessary for them, but the school board is making noises about delaying entry for intact pupils, rescinding the early admission that dragonets were offered back when most of them were turned - younger F0 dragons, not natural-born F1s.  

At the moment, well, you're thinking about that ad in the paper.  Or, well, you were before you were distracted.  What she'd be saying, were her mouth not full, was "Would you come over here and help wrangle your offspring?  This one keeps running off."  Had she known you were snatching the moral equivalent of panty flashes, I don't think it'd help her mood any.  Still, if you weren't, you might have realized that it's the same $100 whether the terrible two get cut, or you all do, and asked your wife whether she has strong feelings about whether she wants to do this again any time this century.

\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
"\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tPS:  Thanks to CeilYurie who helps me figure out why this setting is proceeding from utopian to warped, and is helping me wrap some plot around it all.  Your thoughtful bioconservative musings help me sharpen my thoughts, and the words "minimum-effort" are my hat-tip to you.\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
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