Molly Weasley's Practical Guide to Magical Childcare

I'd like to take a moment to talk about family relations. I do hope, dear, that you will consider having more than one child. While single children can be quite brilliant, most adults without siblings will tell you that they dearly wished for one. Of course I'm all in favour of large families, but that's not a job for everyone. You know your patience level better than anyone, dear. Do what seems best for you and your spouse. Here are a few thoughts about the unique aspects of getting along together.

New Arrivals

Bringing home a new baby always creates a unique set of problems. The children were incredibly excited for each new sibling. They were so eager to hold the baby and play with him. They'd try to share their soup and were forever giving him toys that were too dangerous. In order to protect the baby from being literally 'loved to death,' I'd place a little Shield Charm (protego) on him so that his siblings couldn't actually touch him (or finally her) without a parent's permission and supervision.

Shield Charms also ensured that the baby wasn't injured accidentally as his siblings raced around the room. When Charlie was three he adored pretending to be a dragon, a Common Welsh Green to be specific. He'd run out of his room wearing a green jumper and with a green scarf trailing down his back and jump off the lounge sofa growling and snarling. He preferred jumping from the sofa and soaring over baby Percy, which gave me no end of heart palpitations. I got so tired of repairing objects that I'd dropped or knocked over in my haste to get the baby out of the way that I finally just cast a solid Shield Charm on Percy every time I left his side.

Arguments

There are a million things that children argue about. "Those are my socks." "Get out of my room!" "She ate my last Chocolate Frog." "He magicked off my eyebrows on purpose!" "He's using my Puffskein as a bludger and won't give it back!" The list goes on and on. If the row gets heated there are useful two charms you can use to restore calm. The first is the ever useful Silencing Charm (silencio) so your wisdom can be heard despite their shouting match. This is another of those wonderful parenting perks. Watching furious children's mouths flap noiselessly is hilariously funny. I'd get a fit of the giggles and have to walk out of the room to get control before continuing with my lecture. This break was beneficial, though. It gave the children a chance to calm down. Increasingly, as the children matured they would find themselves funny and make up while I was off laughing. The first time that happened, Ginny was furious with Ron for feeding her a slime-flavoured Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean. When I came back into the room after my giggles subsided, I found the two of them squished together in an armchair, arms round each other's shoulders. They were taking it in turns to move their mouths in funny ways to make each other laugh. I was so touched that I had to leave the room again for a little cry. Unfortunately, I forgot to lift the Silencing Charm so two disgruntled children followed me and ruined the moment.

The second is the lovely and popular Full Body Bind (petrificus totalus). I cast this once in a while if they persist in carrying the argument forward despite my intervention with reason and a Silencing Charm. This gets their attention rather effectively. And, as it's difficult to carry on an argument when you've fallen flat on your face, this can easily make them forget what the argument was about. If they don't forget, you can leave them like that for a little while to think about the stupidity of fighting with a loved one. I had to leave poor ten-year-old Percy and thirteen-year-old Charlie like that for most of an afternoon one summer. It took them forever to come to terms.

Accidental Magic

Most children start to cause Accidental Magic from about the age of five. This is a milestone which many wizarding families celebrate with beloved traditions. Although, if your child is nearing seven and still hasn't demonstrated his first sign of magic, not to worry. Every child is different, dear. Age of onset is no predictor of magical ability or power. And, of course, you'll love your children as much as humanly possible even if their magical ability never appears.

Accidental Magic is different from the Defensive Charges children give off earlier in that it approximates complex spellwork. Be on your guard, dear. It'll most likely show up during times of intense emotion, like the middle of a row or a moment of danger. Most acts of Accidental Magic centre around Transfiguration, Apparation or complex charms. Chances are that you mastered enough at Hogwarts to do just fine.

Bill's first bit of Accidental Magic was transfiguring his porridge into a thick slice of chocolate cake the morning following his fifth birthday. I'd refused to let him have birthday cake for breakfast. Charlie apparated to the top of the bookshelf after I stopped him jumping off the back of the sofa. He was trying to fly like his toy dragon and was rather upset when I grounded his practice. Percy exploded his older brothers' room when they wouldn't let him fly with them. That was a horrible mess. He had splinters stuck all over his skin, poor lad, and clouds of eiderdown billowed around him. The time Ron got lost in Diagon Alley he made his hair luminescent. It led me to him like a lighthouse beacon, thank goodness. Ginny gave all her brothers long hairstyles (complete with hair ribbons) and high squeaky voices one day when she'd had quite enough of their teasing. I was so proud.

My twins' dates of onset were both traumatically memorable. Both are very good lessons, although I don't even like thinking about George's first act of magic. Five-year-old Fred and George snuck out to the pond one hot summer afternoon when they were supposed to be napping. They loved the water, but neither of them could swim well. They used all their energy to swim to the middle of the pond and couldn't get back to shore. The Alerting Ward we'd set around the pond activated the moment they stepped into the pond and I reached them in time to see Fred sink under the surface of the water. As I raised my wand to levitate them out, terrified George vanished all the water around them and saved his brother from drowning. A second later I levitated my two exhausted little boys out of the mud and into my arms. We clung to each other on the bank, had a good cry and caught our breath. That was horribly frightening. As soon as the boys were back abed, I set the Alerting Ward (evigilo tutaminis) to activate further away from the pond.

Even if you're not in the field of Defence Magic, you should familiarize yourself with all types of Wards. It's amazing how frequently I borrow spells from all magical disciplines for my own mothering purposes. This particular Ward would alert me with a noticeable tingle any time one of the children approached the pond without supervision. It was constantly in force unless Arthur or I were personally in attendance at the pond. I chose a Ward over a Repelling Charm or Age Line because those spells would have prevented neighbourhood wildlife from using the pond as well as the children. Wards are more easily adaptable to specific circumstances, an important feature in a Defence Spell. We adapted this spell to ward against human children under the age of fourteen only.

The Termination Spell (finite incantatum) is particularly important when it comes to putting things to rights after Accidental Magic occurs. Fred's first bit of magic came one awful morning when Ron managed to get into the twins' room. They had new birthday toys that Ron was quite anxious to get his hands on. He was only three years old and didn't really understand about respecting other people's things. My five-year-old twins found him sitting on the floor of their room, their birthday presents strewn about him and the broken pieces of Fred's new toy broomstick in Ron's hands. I heard the shouting and the running. Ron flew down the stairs as fast as his little legs could carry him, and made straight for me. As he wrapped himself and his teddy bear around my legs, the twins reached the bottom of the stairs. Shaking with fury, they tried to complain about Ron. But, as they opened their mouths, Ron's cherished teddy bear suddenly transformed into an enormous hairy spider.

It was literally two feet across, with terrible pincers and lots of horrid black eyes. It wriggled frantically in the crook of Ron's arm, pincers clicking, eyes gleaming, hairy legs thrashing about, hitting both Ron's face and my midsection. I shrieked. Now, admittedly, that wasn't the best reaction, but wouldn't you if a horrible great spider materialized on your legs? Not being overly fond of spiders myself, I tried to leap away but only succeeded in toppling Ron and myself onto the floor. I wrenched myself out of his grip and scrambled away, accidentally kicking Ron in the process. Ron, now on the floor alone with the spider on top of him, finally let go. He jumped to his feet screaming, crying, flailing his arms and rooted to the spot with fear. All this fuss frightened the spider to death and it scuttled around the sitting room looking for a quiet safe hiding place. It scuttled so quickly and I was so shaken that I had a devil of a time hitting it and shouted 'finite incantatum' until I was almost hoarse. I finally hit it and the spider shrank back into the inanimate teddy bear. I caught Ron up and held my terrified sobbing boy for quite some time while we calmed down. The twins thought the whole thing terribly funny and fled to their rooms for a good laugh. I found them shortly thereafter and made them sincerely sorry to have upset us so much.

That night, however, Arthur worked quite late. He came home long after the children were asleep, saw Ron's bear on the sitting room floor and tucked it into bed with him. In the middle of making breakfast the next morning, we heard blood-curdling screams from Ron's room. Arthur and I tore up the stairs to find Ron curled-up tightly under his blanket with his hands over his eyes. The bear was on the floor by the bed, and Ron couldn't get out of the room without having to walk right over it. Arthur picked him up comfortingly and I explained the spider incident as we carried our shaking little boy down to some nice safe boiled eggs. Ron wouldn't have a thing to do with that bear ever again. Since then, he's had a horrid phobia about spiders, and even a small irrational fear of toy animals.

Date of onset is almost always a memorable occasion, scary and thrilling all at once. Be on your guard for Accidental Magic, dear. Losing your composure never helps. If you're quick off the mark with your spellwork, then you'll be able to celebrate your little one's date of onset at home instead of St Mungo's. We've traditionally marked the date of onset by giving our children a nice afternoon alone in their rooms to repent for the naughtiness which prompted the magical intervention. Though I have to confess I snuck Ginny a bag of sweets on her day. The boys really did have it coming.

Privacy

It was after the spider incident that I remembered the Sealing Charm (colloportus). Ron had a fascination with everything in the twins' room. Nothing kept him out but Colloportus. When the twins wanted to play outside, they'd come first to me and I'd seal their room. Of course, what they most loved about the spell was the odd squelching noise it made when it activated. They always had a jolly good chuckle over the sound as they tore outside, relieved that their room was Ron-proofed.

Just between us, I'd like to say a few words about intimacy. With all sorts of children running about the house all day and climbing out of beds at all hours of the night, it can be tricky to find time alone with your sweetheart to, at the very least, talk. My Arthur was quite good at Imperturbable Charms. A quick 'imperturbatus' cast a magical barrier on our door to prevent the children hearing anything we didn't want them to hear, including where we'd hidden their Christmas presents. Sunday afternoon in our home was sacred time for us as a couple. After morning services and lunch, Arthur and I would tuck the littlest ones into their beds for a nap, put the oldest in charge of the rest and disappear into our room for some quiet time all to ourselves. Sometimes we were so exhausted we'd just snuggle up and fall asleep ourselves. My heavens, we needed that alone time! It was almost as good as a night out for keeping our relationship healthy.

One Sunday, our time alone was interrupted by a frantic fourteen-year-old Bill. He'd realized from his room that all was too quiet in the twins' room and gone to check on them. Nearing the doorway, he heard the seven-year-old twins trying ensure five year-old Ron's silence about a prank they were planning for Charlie when he returned to Hogwarts in a couple weeks. When he heard the word "vow," Bill tore down to our room and got our attention. I've never seen Arthur move so quickly. When he got to the twins room, he found Fred holding Ron's hand in preparation to make an Unbreakable Vow. When I reached the doorway, I saw a manically angry man tanning the backside of a very distressed Fred. George had pressed himself into the wall, eyes wide at his father. Neither of them had ever seen their father so angry, either before or since. By the time it was George's turn, Arthur had used up a lot of his fury and energy. Not that George's bum noticed. Neither twin sat down for the rest of the day. Now, I don't usually advocate corporal punishment. I generally prefer something more creative, as you well know. But in that instance, it was the perfect consequence. Never again did the twins plan anything devious on a Sunday afternoon.

A/N: Thank you, Antonia East for resuming your beta duties. Thank you, Dancinginmagic for your pre-beta help and comments. Thanks very much to everyone for waiting so patiently.