Sometimes Evan left his father feeling uncertain -- the kid was smart, and so different from his sister that the man had trouble figuring out where, exactly, he was at. This, however, seemed to be a universal trait. He grinned over to Kay, offering his hand to the boy as well, just in case he'd like both their support.

It turned out that Evan did, at least until they caught the teacher's attention. At that point, the boy retracted his hands and quickly folded them in front of his small chest, a gesture that was endearing, even with his sombre expression.

"Ah, the Friave-Goodlaces," the kindergarten teacher greeted the two adults. Her glance had flicked from the two familiar faces (the number of calls she'd had to make about papier mache alone were outstanding,) to the boy. "You must be Evan. Your sister is very famous around these parts."

Evan didn't respond, apparently finding nothing worth acknowledging in the statement.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have lots of fun. Come on in," she gestured. At first the boy didn't seem to want to go but, casting a glance up to his parents and seeing their nods of approval, he stepped forward into the class.

"He shouldn't cause a stir," Aaron told the poor woman. "He's better behaved." Was that a note of apology in his voice?