beatrix bobbit gets homeschooled

"Make it stop, Bea!" Sybil groaned from the bottom bunk of their bed. Sunlight was streaming through the windows, but it didn't help the sisters wake up.

"Must learn a Silencing Charm today," Beatrix mumbled in response.

Downstairs, Mrs. Bobbit was sitting at the old piano, playing rather wildly for 7 a.m. A wisp of her pale hair had even been shaken loose from its bun.

"Girls! Breakfast before school, now hurry up!" Mrs. Bobbit exclaimed in tune with the piano.

With a collective sigh, Beatrix and Sybil dressed for their third day of being homeschooled. Mrs. Bobbit, of course, insisted that they wear proper clothes, which left much room for interpretation. Sybil chose a purple sparkly leotard with fuzzy slippers and Beatrix donned the black cloak she'd made at Witch Camp.

When they plodded into the kitchen, Mrs. Bobbit clapped her hands together, then inspected their outfits, "Hm, perhaps I shall write a more specific dress code for our Homeschooling Handbook."

"Dad, have you seen Penny?" Beatrix asked the newspaper that was blocking Mr. Bobbit from view. He merely grunted and shifted the paper to the side to reveal Penny and her smiley carrot and cabbage toys. "Oh, has she eaten then?"

"Of course she's eaten! It's after 7 a.m. isn't it?" Mr. Bobbit replied by patting Penny.

The owl clock by the window registered only four minutes past 7 a.m.

"What's for break--" Sybil asked before covering her mouth with wide eyes. "Oops."

"I was just going to ask you, Sybil, dear? What is for breakfast? Penny has already had hers, and I know the rest of us are quite eager to see what you come up with."

"Judy, maybe you should..." Mr. Bobbit began.

"Absolutely not, Jack! This is part of Homeschooling. It's in the Handbook."

"You wrote the Handbook, though," Mr. Bobbit muttered.

"That matters not. Sybil, dear, breakfast?"

Sybil yawned, and nodded at Beatrix who took her place in front of the stove. Sybil, meanwhile, grabbed eggs from the basket on the counter and began cracking them into the pan. Beatrix pointed a finger at the stove and got a small flame going, while Sybil busied herself with the toast and fruit. The eggs sizzled as Beatrix carefully flipped them, and then arranged them on plates.

"Ta da," Beatrix wiggled her fingers dramatically as they set each plate at the table.

Mr. Bobbit choked on his coffee, "What's this?"

Beatrix smirked at Sybil's giggles. For, on Mr. Bobbit's plate were two eggs laid out like eyes, a banana cut into a severe line for a mouth and blueberries arranged in the shape of a bunny. Mrs. Bobbit's plate featured a blueberry and banana piano, Beatrix's a blueberry witch hat and Sybil's a blueberry and toast tutu.

"What?" Sybil asked innocently. "Art is in the Handbook after Breakfast. I just combined them for efficiency!"

"Well done, Sybil, well done," Mrs. Bobbit reached into her floral jacket and presented Sybil with a gold ribbon, which she promptly wrapped around her braided ponytail.

"See," Mrs. Bobbit looked at Mr. Bobbit, "the Handbook matters."

After breakfast, Mrs. Bobbit dove into the morning's lessons with a reading from Pride and Prejudice followed by a Jane Austen inspired writing exercise. Then, it was to the garden for an exercise in watering and fertilizing, which may have divulged from the lesson plan a bit when Mrs. Bobbit discovered a growth of weeds in her otherwise pristine garden. But, she was able to write the weeding off as allotted Homeschooling based off of the Handbook's generous Miscellaneous section.

After a math-centric Baking Lesson and English Tea for Lunch, Sybil and Beatrix separated for the remainder of the afternoon. Beatrix was scheduled for Witch Nonsense and Sybil for Dance.

"Hello Bobbitses!" Broomstick Betsy leaned in the front door with her broomstick and aviators.

Beatrix waved, grabbed her broom and swooshed outside to meet her teacher.

"Hello, Broomstick Betsy! Don't forget to have Beatrix back for the recital later. If you'll join us, we'll be serving Fraction Scones and one-third peach tea," Mrs. Bobbit popped up from her lesson planning.

"That sounds wonderful, Judy. We'll be back then."

Together, Beatrix and Broomstick Betsy strode off into the forest. They wandered along a clear stream until the forest opened to a field of wildflowers. Beatrix took off her witch hat and began gathering various flowers, pine needles, toadstools, stones and bits of moss.

She brought the gathered ingredients to the black cauldron by the stream, and used her hands to direct a wooden spoon to stir the concoction seven times clockwise and thrice counter.

"Excellent job, Beatrix! Now, cup your left hand into the stream to pour one handful of fresh stream water in."

Beatrix followed the instructions and was pleased when the potion turned clear and began emitting a pleasant smelling steam.

"Mmmm that's it. Liquid Courage smells sweet but has a bite. Go on now, take a little taste."

Beatrix dipped the wooden spoon into the pot and filled it with the smallest mouthful of liquid. Then, she held her breath and took a sip. As soon as it hit her mouth, she coughed and gagged at the sheer sharpness of it.

"How can something that smells that good taste this...awful?" Beatrix spluttered.

"Courage is a lovely concept, but in actuality requires such strong conviction. Hence the strength of the potion!" Broomstick Betsy exclaimed with a grin.

"Broomstick Betsy, will I still be a witch when I'm grown?" Beatrix held back a cough and asked the question that had been plaguing her since Witch Camp.

The older witch stared down at Beatrix, prepared to offer advice about strength of convictions. But, she saw in Beatrix a look she'd seen mirrored on her own face, once.

"My mom wanted me to fly airplanes," Broomstick Betsy said and Beatrix's eyes widened. "She thought it was a good compromise between what I wanted to do and what I should do instead." Broomstick Betsy stared up at the sky. "It wasn't a bad plan, and I'd have made a witchin' good pilot. But, flying airplanes was something to do, which is often enough. Except that being a witch is more than something to do or a phase to outgrow. It's who I am, and who I choose to be everyday."

Beatrix considered Broomstick Betsy's words for a moment. "So, it's my choice? Even if everyone thinks it's nonsense?"

The older woman smiled, bottled the Liquid Courage in a gold flask and handed it to Beatrix.

"To the skies," Broomstick Betsy said. "We're gonna be late for the recital."

Beatrix and Broomstick Betsy mounted their broomsticks and held a finger to the wind, waiting for the right one. When it came swirling through the field, they took off towards the house and Beatrix knew that nothing would ever feel as good as this witch nonsense.

When they touched down, the garden was set-up with three mismatched chairs. Mrs. Bobbit was already seated, and waved them over.

"Quick, Beatrix, dear, it's starting!"

They took their seats, and, only a moment later, music began. Sybil came into the garden in a whirl of pirouettes and flower petals. No sooner had she completed her final turn when Mr. Bobbit shuffled out the back door and onto the patio in a pair of black tap shoes. Penny sat atop his head with a tiny top hat on her own head as Mr. Bobbit tapped and waved his fingers and turned and lifted Sybil all with the biggest grin on his face.

He was not a great dancer, or even a very good one. At best, what he was doing could be described as Dance Nonsense. But Beatrix smiled, and found she couldn't look away.