The Great Spoon Heist

Night had fallen.

The air was still. The only sounds in the house were the faint crackle of the dying fireplace and the rhythmic breathing of his parents as they slept. The time had come.

Tonight, I reclaim what is mine.

Thaddeus lay in his crib, eyes locked onto the wooden spoon sitting on the kitchen table. It was his first real link to Bending, and he was not going to let it slip away.

Step one: Escape the crib.

This part was tricky. His six-month-old body was as weak as a noodle, and his ability to move was laughably bad. But he had one advantage—his newfound ability to sit up and barely crawl.

Using all his strength, he rolled onto his stomach. He grabbed the wooden railing of the crib and tried to pull himself up.

His arms shook. His tiny legs trembled. His diapered bottom wiggled uselessly.

God, this is pathetic.

Gritting his nonexistent teeth, he pushed himself upward—only to slip and collapse back onto the mattress with a soft plop.

"…Tch."

Alright. New plan. He shuffled toward the side of the crib and dangled one chubby leg over the edge. Operation: Drop Down and Hope for the Best.

One… two… three—

THUMP.

He hit the floor face-first.

Pain shot through his tiny nose. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he bit them back. He was no ordinary baby. He was Thaddeus Lore, wielder of an unfathomable power! He would not be defeated by—

"Guuuuhhh…" A pained whimper slipped from his mouth.

Okay, maybe that hurt more than I expected.

He laid there for a moment, questioning his life choices. Then, with sheer determination, he dragged himself forward, crawling like a little warrior. His target was in sight.

The wooden spoon sat on the kitchen table, barely out of reach. He reached out, fingers brushing against the edge—

Step.

His tiny body froze.

A shadow loomed over him.

Slowly, he turned his head.

His father, Alexander Lore, stood there—towering, silent, his piercing eyes staring down.

Thaddeus gulped.

Oh crap.

...

There was a long pause. The tension in the air was thick. Alexander crossed his arms.

"What… are you doing?" his deep voice rumbled.

Thaddeus stared at him. His tiny mind raced. Excuses. He needed an excuse!

He opened his mouth—

"Baaah!"

…

Damn it. That wasn't what he meant to say.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "You… really wanted that spoon, huh?"

Thaddeus nodded rapidly.

His father let out a deep sigh and bent down. "You're six months old. How did you even get out of your crib?"

Thaddeus blinked. He couldn't exactly say, Through sheer force of will, Father. I am training to bend.

So instead, he just gave his father the biggest, most innocent baby eyes he could manage.

Alexander squinted.

A long silence stretched between them. Then—

"…You know what? I respect the effort."

Thaddeus's eyes widened as his father picked up the spoon—and placed it right in front of him.

"…What?"

"You worked hard to get it," Alexander said casually. "I don't know what's so special about it, but hey, go crazy, kid."

Thaddeus stared at him, shocked. Wait… did I just win?!

Step one: Escape the crib. ✓

Step two: Retrieve the spoon. ✓✓✓

This was it. This was his chance.

He gripped the spoon tightly. The memory of the strange bending sensation from last night replayed in his head. This time, he wouldn't let it slip away.

He focused.

Concentrated.

Felt the weight of the wood in his hands.

And then—

Nothing happened.

…Huh?

He furrowed his tiny brows. Where was the strange sensation? Why wasn't it activating?

Was it because his father was watching?

Was he overthinking it?

His grip tightened. He wanted the spoon to bend. No, he needed it to bend. He imagined it shifting, twisting, warping into something new—

And then—

The spoon twitched.

Thaddeus's breath caught. His heart pounded.

It was slight, almost unnoticeable, but it had definitely moved in a way that it shouldn't have.

It bent ever so slightly.

A tiny, barely-there curve in the wood.

His mind screamed: I DID IT!

Alexander stared at the spoon. "…Huh."

Thaddeus froze.

Oh no.

His father saw.

The towering man rubbed his chin. "That's weird… I swear that spoon was straight a second ago."

Thaddeus tried to act innocent. He slowly placed the spoon down, like a criminal hiding evidence.

Alexander narrowed his eyes at him.

A long pause.

Then—

"…Must be seeing things."

He turned and walked away.

Thaddeus let out a breath of relief.

That was too close.

...

As his father went back to bed, Thaddeus gripped the spoon again. It was small, barely noticeable, but he had made progress.

His ability wasn't locked. It was there—he just needed to master it.

For now, though, he had accomplished three things:

1. Escaped the crib.

2. Retrieved the spoon.

3. Confirmed his power was real.

He looked down at his chubby baby hands and grinned.

This was only the beginning.