Well, no marriage is perfect, so who am I to judge them?

"Grrrrrrrrr….." My stomach grumbled out in indignation.

I resist the urge to sigh as I walked my small body over to the dinner table and sat down, comfortably looking at the dinner in front of me.

Father was always busy, while mother -who was the head chef was tied to the strings of Mr Adolph's household who intentionally or unintentionally made the kitchen her second home.

Those were their jobs, and that was the reason why we were able to live in a place like this in the estate, so who am I to complain when I get to enjoy the privilege of a;l these things, just after being reborn?

Well, at least you know why a 3-year-old was eating dinner while he watched the sunset through the windows!

Thankfully I am not your regular 3-year-old or else I wondered what would have happened if I were.

Picking up the last piece of cabbage on my plate, I crushed it a few times before swallowing it. Thus finishing the salad in a few minutes.

I knew that my mother just wanted me to grow healthy by eating right, and since I also knew how good they were for my metabolism, I ate them frequently even though I didn't like the way they tasted in my mouth.

At least I can now fit into the shoes of my 5-year-old daughter when I force her to do the same.

Covering the plates, I carried the trays to the kitchen with an unnatural balance unfit for a child my age.

Gratefully, I was cautious to know that there was no one hiding and watching me in secret. Still, even if I wasn't cautious, who would want to spy on the child of two servants?

The only thing that made me special was that I started to speak more intelligible words than those of my agemate when I was 2 at the age of two -which was a mistake on my part.

Try holding out from trying to talk, walk or do anything by yourself and see how it turns out. Especially when you are as old as me and just want to get passed the infancy stage quickly.

However, it was quickly dismissed as I was just tagged a genius by my father who promised to show me the ropes to becoming a very good exceptional head butler when I turn seven, so that he could see if there was a chance I could impress Mr Adolph and also become a head butler, thus making it a generational profession.

And unsurprisingly, I wasn't put off by his decision since this world was somewhat as normal as my previous world albeit, with a different time, age and cultural differences which I am still getting used to.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

I know that I will surely need a job to survive as I grow older, so the first thing that came to my head when I heard his words was to punch my tiny fist into the air and proclaim with a small childish voice

"I Luv u, Papa…" Such a single sentence was enough to tear down his soft fragile heart.

Putting the tray into the sink, I turned around to check the wall clock which signifies that my mother and father would be home soon.

Moving towards the door, passed the dining room and into the sitting room to wait for them so that they could switch on the radio for me, I couldn't help but wince back in pain as I remembered the heavy knocks I received the first time I turned on the radio by myself.

They said something about making sure I don't mistakenly tune into the wrong station. My first punishment, I noted was equivalent to finding your 3-year-old son switching through unrestricted t.v channels by himself.

Of course, the visual delight back on the earth would require some parental control, and so I too was put under some kind of Parental guidance on the whims that hopefully, my brain wasn't developed enough to pick up and understand whatever bad thing was said from the radio.

I resisted the urge to snort harder.

From listening to the erotic fiction my mother use to spend time with, daydreaming and imagining, I think that it's already fair to say that my ears have already been defiled faster than Sodom and Gomorra.

And still, they thought I needed some parental guidance while listening to the radio. A goddamn radio….

"Ting!!" The wall clock struck six and I wondered what was making her waste time.

She was always on time, at exactly 6'oclock, opening the door as she would walk in with her victorian designed maid uniform that would smell of baking powder and seasoning, while her hair would stick to her neck because of the injustice they had received from being tied and covered in a heavy layer of cloth all day long.

"Click!!" The sound of the door opening was enough to draw my attention. Sigh…. I can't believe that I was getting a panic attack over something like that.

"Simeon!! I'm home" My mother shouted, wanting me to run into her arms like a kid who counted every hour until their parents returned.

Even though she knew that I wasn't like that, but with a much smarter and developed brain far stronger than my peers.

…However, in other not to hear her frustrated groan of disappointment, I marched forward, moving my body like a child being pulled like a string to the voice of his mother.

And so my little body rammed into hers "Welcome back mother".

She ruffled my hair, with a tired gaze and a weak grasp "Have you eaten dinner?" She asked ceremoniously, already knowing the answer yet choosing to address her 3 years old about it in order not to look like a bad parent.

"Yes" I nodded.

"Haven't I told you to wait for us before you eat so that we can eat like a family?" She sighed, pinching my cheeks slightly.

"I was hungry" My answer has always been that. Nothing more, nothing less. After all, you seriously can't expect a paragraph of words worth of reasoning from a 3-year-old.

I pulled myself out of her warm embrace.

"Turn on the radio" Regardless, I could not forget the main reason why I waited for her arrival, every day.

"Alright, let me go take a shower first" She replied.

She carried me and put me on the chair "I will be back in a minute, darling".

She took off layers upon layers of her clothes even before she reached her room showing her smooth and curvy backside. Also, I could watch as she struggled as always, trying to open her bra as the hooks were etched too far behind her back.

My father would be home before nine o'clock. So till then, I have enough time to listen to my newfound favourite show.