Sun Mote Copse Don't tell me what the poets are doin'

Niamh squirmed happily as her new nickname was used, and though she knew it would be a little while yet before the kid could understand or mimic what Towhee was saying, Niamh knew that repetition was key. So while Towhee ate, and Meerkat toddled toward her, Niamh bowed down to eye the youngster from her level. -Neema- Niamh signed. Though she expected the majority of the family's children to have no difficulty hearing, she felt it was important for them to be able to effectively communicate using ptero, and it would likely be easiest for them to learn in an immersive environment, paired with the spoken language. 

Meerkat was small- but growing. She was smaller than Niamh's kids had been, but the circumstances were different, and puppies came in all shapes and sizes. She had a pale, beige tint to her pelt that made Niamh beam with pride; maybe she'd develop a golden blonde tint, just like her Neema. -Hey pretty baby!- She signed to the little one, laying her muzzle down on the ground so her face would be as close as possible to the puppy- even though she was fully aware that doing this often enticed sneezes, burps, and pukes all too close to her face. But she'd been a Mom before- she knew it was all a part of the process, and it didn't stop her from wanting to get as close to the pup as possible. She thumped her tail against the ground, sending little wafts of air that ruffled the pup's light fur. -Come to Neema- She encouraged.