Noctisardor Bypass what stupid poem could fix this home?

She regarded him with an amused expression, her tail twitching. He was big for his age, thanks to Glaukos’s genes. Druid tried not to dwell on what that might mean in regards to his disposition. He was protective, though rather than throw his weight around like his dad, he was quite the gentle giant.

I love that you look out for the littler ones, the Den Mother acknowledged, reaching out to ruffle the sprout of fur atop her son’s head. You are a big boy. In fact, I think you’re old enough to call me Druid, seeing as that’s my name.

She nipped at his whiskers, wondering if he would take her up on it. If the kids insisted on calling her “mama,” she wouldn’t fight it. But she would continue gently encouraging the use of her preferred name. She hoped it would cultivate a sense of maturity in her children. If she refused to talk to them like they were babies, they would soon be articulate, or so she hoped.