[She studies Mycroft for a moment, then glances down at her son. She's sentimental, yes, but there's also a very real sense of curiosity about what the boy currently scouring the book's colourful pages would become in a few years.

Her own trouble making tendencies, after all, had begun young. And been spectacular.]

That's one case in which ignorance is very much bliss, if mine were any judge. Good thing boarding school headmasters have no shortage of that. [She's fully aware that when the boy is older that boarding school will have to be the solution. Sometimes, she's almost relieved.]