Chapter 10

"If nothing else, you at least got him to say your name correctly," Igwanda said to his wife after they'd returned to their cabin.

"And he'll not only say it right from now on, he'll say it with a good feeling," she told him, smiling. "That's what diplomacy is all about; I keep telling you, it's just applied sociology. We made peace. He even included you in that at the end, didn't he?"

Igwanda shook his head in annoyance. "The man is a moron, and a mean-spirited one at that. It galled me considerably to be even courteous to him, and I found it likewise galling to watch you exert your charm on such a one as that."

She laughed. "Really, darling, the world is absolutely chock-a-block with fools and scoundrels. The trick is just not to share that with them. As it is, he'll stay happily on board the Gardener and spend his time dreaming up all sorts of scenarios in which he rides bravely to our rescue to save us from our own folly. And isn't that what we want? I certainly can't imagine letting him down on Eden any time in the near future, he'd be a bull in a china shop."

"As I recall you said that once of me," the colonel remembered. "And perhaps I was on that occasion. But in this case you are absolutely correct, he would be that. I cannot conceive of him with Akakha, or any other Edenite guard. And you manipulated him very neatly into dispatching Zo with us."

"It was easier than I expected." They were interrupted abruptly by Meier, who shared their quarters, beginning to stir from his nap. "Mommy, Daddy?" the boy said sleepily; he was just beginning to talk. He opened his eyes to their reassuring presence.

"We are right here, son," said Igwanda with the tender smile he reserved for his small family. He leaned over the side of the crib in which the baby slept, holding out his arms. "Want to get up?"

"Uh-huh." The boy reached up to his father, struggling to his feet as he did so; he was just beginning to walk, too. As the colonel lifted him out a distinct odor reached his nostrils. "Oh, I think you might need a change, little Meier," he said. He rolled his eyes at Meiersdottir; "I'll certainly be pleased when toilet training can be completed."

She reached out to take the baby. "Sooner than you think," she said. "Here, let me. Watch and learn," she added with an impish grin. Taking the boy over to the child-size potty they'd set up, she expertly stripped off the soiled diaper with one hand and set him on it. "Poor little Meier, so uncomfortable with a wet didy. And poopy, too, I know that feels nasty. Let's clean you all up, baby. And you know, if you go here you won't have that uncomfortable didy, will you?"

As she continued Igwanda chuckled quietly. Noticing the chuckle, she arched her eyebrows at him. "My love, I think you somewhat overestimate the comprehensive capacity of a one-year-old, not to mention the capabilities of bladder and bowel control," he said wryly.

"Fifteen months," she corrected. "And he gets more than you think already. As for muscle control, you learn it by practicing. I'm giving him the incentive to work at it."

"So it will be—"

"—his idea," she finished for him. "That's it, it works the same way for all ages. The women I've seen spanking their children or yelling at them over wet pants..." She shook her head, then turned her attention back to Meier. "Now, just say 'potty' when you need to go," she continued. "Can you do that? Pot-ty?"

"Potty," the baby burbled happily.

"That's right, potty. Then you won't have those nasty, wet, uncomfortable didies. So much nicer for you."

"Nicer," Meier repeated. She turned and shot Igwanda a satisfied smile. He simply shook his head indulgently, smiling back.