Dragoncrest Cliffs clocks on the wall talk to watches on the wrist

He can walk! He can shove his legs around and move, move, move, move! Four weeks old, from learning how to wobble and hobble to learning how to advanced wobble and hobble. Sleep was a beautiful thing, he learned. Once he'd gotten over his pissy opinions of light, and even now the sun was his enemy, he chose to keep his eyes open. He learned of Miette's blob of colors, Tousaint's blob of colors and Chantale's blob of colors! Mama's blob of colors really didn't need identifying, considering she was around so often. 

He identified mama from her quality milk production. Taste like mama, must be mama.

Thibby fumbled around, long on his feet and had been pestering his siblings with poking, prodding and whining. It had been the sound of a large, massive chuff to his ears that pulled in his almighty attention. Quirking his head towards the entrance, he stood there like a sack of potatoes with no moving legs, no expression besides an open mouth, and staring with a shaky body. While he did not squint, he seemed like he could have.

... What was THAT blob of color? And why was it weird? Was that even a color?

And then he immediately tried to run to it, or run to what his little-big legs could to go investigate with no hesitancy! He would discover it's weirdness, wobbling over to Val to try and sniff his feet.