Isabella trips over her paws but learns to fly pretty quick. Isabella is fuzzy and likes to nap in patches of sunshine. Isabella asks a lot of questions and starts reading not too long after she gets really going on the concept of talking. Isabella lashes her tail when she's thinking. Isabella wants hands, so she can write things in addition to reading them, and because Mommy has hands.

"I might need a lot of those," muses Isabella. "Lots of locks for lots of diaries."

"Tell you what. We'll start you with those and when you learn magic you can make your own. How does that sound?"

"Yay!"

"No. Just asking."

Vivian has a trip planned in two days to sell her latest batch of spells and charms in the nearby Avalon. When she returns, there is a little stack of diaries sitting on Isabella's desk. They are all different sizes and colors and in some cases patterns, and are in no way discernibly similar except that all of them have some kind of lock.

Isabella loves them! She writes things in them. She conscientiously locks them and puts all the keys on a necklace, marked to indicate which book they open.

"Yeah. I'm not adopted. You made me."

"I know. But because magic is secret, people won't know that. And I can't be your birth mommy because I'm Asian and you're not." Vivian feels strongly about Isabella being a well-educated citizen of the world (filtered age appropriately), so Isabella is familiar with enough faces from newspapers that this isn't a new concept. "So to people who don't know about magic, we have to say you're adopted, okay?"

Isabella considers this. "We could pretend I had a daddy who wasn't Asian," she suggests. "To explain. I could take after him."

"Okay. What about magic knowing people?"

Isabella considers this gravely. "Does this mean I have to be all human all the time even when there are only magic knowing people?"

"Honestly? Probably, yes. I'm sorry, love. But it's a big deal that you're a sphinxette. You can be a sphinx at home! And if you want we can try to pick you something to pretend to be, if you want to be able to turn partway when we're out. But you'd have to pick one thing and stick to it, and never ever show anything that didn't match."

"What things would let me have my wings and my tail? I like those best."

"A winged lion, maybe? There's not a lot of things with feather wings and lion tails."

"Okay. I'm a winged lion."

"Lies! You are my favorite sphinxette."

"But don't I have to lie to people? I should practice."

Vivian cringes internally. She hates that they have to lie. She wants to shout "Look, the sphinx are back!" to the world. But as long as she doesn't know where the dragons are, she doesn't quite dare. "We can practice if you'd like. You are my favorite winged lion."

"And I can do all my parts, like that, I think," says Isabella, going fullform and clapping her forepaws.

"Your head is different," Vivian cautions. "If you do everything at once except your head it's suspicious. But you can use any part of you as a piece!"

"Like my wings and my tail." Midform with just those is displayed.

"Yeah!" Flutter flutter lash lash. Then she puts her parts away.

With that settled, they can go out and explore the world! Or more specifically, allow Vivian to rejoin the political scene in person. Writing letters and calling Congresspeople only gets her so far; she's glad to be back in a more concrete way. Meetings, gatherings, rallies and protests- Vivian's discriminating about which organizations she supports, but less so about which of their events to attend. There are lots of ways for her to support, and she's going to get involved in as many as possible.

Isabella is intensely curious about everything. In particular she is delighted that there are people besides Mommy to interact with!

Most people are pretty delighted to interact back! And they're all happy to explain things to her. If she hangs around enough, she will become very (and age-appropriately... mostly) enlightened as to the state of modern feminism, gay rights, and the growing environmental concerns. There's other causes here and there, but these three are most definitely Vivian's pet causes.

Bella is on board with a fair amount of feminism, considerable quantities of gay rights, and some environmentalism, although she doesn't totally see what all the fuss is about in that case even accounting for the part where they don't know that Mommy can bring back anything that has gone quite extinct.

Vivian is all for people forming their own opinions. For the most part she is supportive and provides more information when asked. The Lorax might make a reappearance at bedtime, though.

Bella thinks that the truffula trees should have been domesticated and responsibly farmed.

"I like going places, but I don't know about going to the same place every day to learn the same things as thirty other kids," remarks Isabella. "Can't I just read books and stuff here with you? And go to the library." Isabella is a big fan of the library.

Isabella tolerates the vaccinations. A year sounds like an awfully long trial period to commit to. She isn't concerned about her lack of friends her own age; she is just as happy by herself or talking to any of the more conversational grownups available.

The schools can't very well refuse her. She can start halfway through first grade if she'd like a shorter trial period. (Vivian and the adoption agency can, literally and figuratively, magic the adoption dates as necessary so that Isabella is not considered truant.) Vivian tries very hard not to influence her, but does focus rather more than normal on the benefits of knowing both sides of a question.

This is likely to confuse a public school, but Vivian finds a private school that "she and her daughter are considering" to allow the expedition.

Bella critically examines the interior of this private school. There are parts of it in which she concedes value - the art class has materials that would be cumbersome to keep around at home, for example - but gym is an unmitigated disaster, the academics all seem fairly condescending, and most of the kids do not seem like they would hold her interest for longer than a few weeks even if she were earnestly trying. She converses with the other children and concludes that what she really wants to do is be homeschooled and go to summer camp in the summers.

Not even sphinxettes with very good handwriting who promise to triple check and pronounce everything right? And who put their fuzzy paws on their mommy's knee and bat their eyes and say please please?

Her sphinxette is adorable and convincing, but still seven. She can extract a promise of a tiny light spell to cast on her eighth birthday, though!

"Because there's a lot more things that can go wrong, in a lot more ways, then anything else you might want to do. The more time you have to practice, the safer it is."

"Can't I just practice a lot now, and then do it?"

"Well, but how much actual practicing to do a spell? Making it my birthday is dumb."

"Hmmmm?" Vivian mumbles. Light? Light. She wants a light spell? Okay, she can cast it when she wakes up. "Okay, love, light spell. I'm just- sleep a bit more-" and she nods back off.

Two hours later, Vivian is actually awake and comes downstairs. "Isabella, love, where did you want that light spell?"

"Oh, I already did it," says Isabella. "Under the couch. I think it's still there."

"Yeah. You said okay, and I needed my pen. I was very careful and I did it right!"

"You were asleep. I'm sorry I woke you up," says Isabella. "Are you okay?"

"I- didn't realize you were casting the spell," Vivian squeaks. "I am very, very glad you are okay!"

"You said okay! I was careful!"

Nod nod. "So now we know I can do spells," she says reasonably.

"Okay. Do you want to see my scroll? I'll show you my scroll." Isabella turns back a page in her notebook; she taped her first-ever scroll into it. "See?"

"No casting without me there," Vivian says firmly. "Even if you have to wake me up. It was fine this time, I'm very glad it was fine this time, but you are still only six and if you are going to cast magic I am going to supervise. I'm happy to check your work whenever you'd like, though."

"What will it help?" wonders Isabella. "You can check the scrolls ahead of time, and if I start saying something wrong then if you stop me I'll swallow the rest of the incantation, that's bad." Isabella knows about swallowing incantations. And that it is bad.

"Because if something does go wrong, I'll be there if you're hurt or unconscious or if it can be fixed but only so quickly, or... or... whatever."

"You don't have somebody watch when you cast things all the time."

"And when you have been casting spells for a decade, I will no longer be supervising."

Isabella is not pleased.

Isabella seems to have decided that for now her strategy is to make insisting on magic supervision extremely time consuming.

Yes! That is very interesting.

Isabella is very proud of this fact and will tell anyone who seems like they might listen. She is walking on her hind paws because she has never learned to get quite used to shoes (she will wear flipflops if she has to be all human, grudgingly; this is not a problem with Bay Area weather) and she has her wings and tail, but no other sphinxy parts.

Isabella has never been here before, so she scarcely knows; "everywhere" does not seem like the right sort of answer. Her tail lashes. "Can I fly, here?"

"Don't go above the church spire, all right? They don't really have a way to mark how high the spell goes. So if you stay low and where I can see you, you can fly."

Isabella identifies the church spire - then nods, and takes off. Whee! What is there to see here?

Isabella does not attempt to swim. She inspects the lay of the land, then espies something that looks like a library and lands on it and from there glides to the ground in front of the entrance.

Vivian meets her in front. "Would you like to stay in the library for a bit?" she asks. "I can come with you if you want."

Nod, nod.

In they go.

The front desk is currently staffed by an obviously bored teenager reading a comic book, in his gryphon midform. He doesn't look up when they walk in. "Children's books are around the corner in the back," he says automatically.

("As long as that's not the only thing you get," Vivian whispers back.)

"Swipe yer library card," the gryphon boy tells her disinterestedly.

"Mm-hm."

Isabella is willing to assume that her mommy is handling her finances appropriately at this time. Yay, spending money!