"I cannot feel that I have done my duty as humble historian of the March family, without devoting at least one chapter to the two most precious and important members of it." Based solely on this opening sentence, I'm guessing that Alcott is not actually very excited about writing about the babies. There's something perfunctory about it. Also, I'm reading the chapter online, and the scroll bar for this chapter is really short. I'm expecting maybe one antic per baby, tops. Let's see if I'm right! For those of you keeping track at home, I am predicting two (2) antics.

The Skywalker twins - I mean the Brooke twins - are 3 years old. (What is the rate of conception of twins in literature that's primarily about the parents? I believe it is about 1 in 3. Higher than the national average, that's for sure. The only explanation is that literature parents have an unusually high incidence of fertility drug use.) The Force is strong with the twins. Demi is a mechanical genius. He makes a "`sewinsheen', a mysterious structure of string, chairs, clothespins, and spools". He also hoists Daisy up the back of a chair in a basket. "Why, Marmar, dat's my lellywaiter, and me's trying to pull her up!" That's an antic!

What is a lellywater? It seems like Demi is trying to build a dumbwaiter, but "lellywaiter" doesn't sound like baby talk for "dumbwaiter". Is there some regional synonym for dumbwaiter? ... OHH! Elevator, of course! Demi must be ahead of his time, because elevators weren't super common in 1869 when Little Women part 2 was published. The first Otis passenger elevator was built in 1857 in New York City, in an office building, only 12 years before. Did three-year-old Demi visit a lot of NYC office buildings?

Daisy is Beth Part Two. "'Me loves evvybody', she once said, opening her arms, with her spoon in one hand, and her mug in the other, as if eager to embrace and nourish the whole world." Indeed, her stupid old "grandfather often called her `Beth'".

OK, back to Demi! Louisa May Alcott is bored with Daisy after only two paragraphs. Demi asks a lot of questions, and Mr. Alcott is always ready to teach a lesson. When told that his mind, like the cogs in a watch, makes him go, he says, "Open me. I want to see it go wound." Mr. Alcott explains that he can't open Demi: only God can wind Demi up. Maybe Demi can also be would by his creator, Doctor Noonien Soong. (Data is a twin too!)

There might have been cause for maternal anxiety, if Demi had not given convincing proofs that he was a true boy, as well as a budding philosopher, for often, after a discussion which caused Hannah to prophesy, with ominous nods, That child ain't long for this world, he would turn about and set her fears at rest by some of the pranks with which dear, dirty, naughty little rascals distract and delight their parent's souls.

Meg made many moral rules, and tried to keep them, but what mother was ever proof against the winning wiles, the ingenious evasions, or the tranquil audacity of the miniature men and women who so early show themselves accomplished Artful Dodgers?

Apparently precocity and virtue is dangerous, because the cook is always telling the parents that their child is sure to die, and she doesn't get yelled at for it. (People are also worried that Daisy is going to die because she is so good, by the way.) Luckily, Demi gets into scrapes, which is the mark of a "true boy" and the path to robustness and health. Also scrapes are a lot like antics. Let's see if any are forthcoming!

OK, here's the scrape the little villain gets into!

Demi wants raisins. Meg denies him raisins. Demi concocts a plan: he acts good! Meg is so impressed that she says "You've been good children, and I'll play anything you like." Demi "corners her by the cool reply... 'Then we'll go and eat up all the raisins.'"

My rating for this scrape is: WEAK. It relies on a) the parent doing something stupid: promising to fulfill an unknown favor; b) the parent specifically rewarding the children for not getting in trouble, and c) a really weird definition of "playing". Meg could easily argue that eating all the raisins is not a game. Sorry, Demi, Not an antic!

OK, we have time for one more anecdote before we turn this chapter around and drive back to the garage. It's about Demi, of course. Daisy is probably floating around the rafters being ethereal.

The kids like Aunt Jo ("Dodo"), who pays them a lot of attention except when Professor Bhaer is around. They like "the bear-man" anyway, because he gives them chocolate.

For some reason, Mr. March is really stupid, and doesn't realize that Prof. Bhaer likes Jo. He thinks he visits every day to talk philosophy with him. Then one day Demi's innocent prattle gives him a clue. Out of the mouths of babes come obvious things!

Demi has been visiting a playmate named Mary. "'She kissed me, and I liked it. Don't little boys like little girls?' asked Demi, with his mouth full, and an air of bland satisfaction." Demi follows up by asking, insinuatingly, "Do great boys like great girls, to, 'Fessor?"

Like young Washington, Mr. Bhaer `couldn't tell a lie', so he gave the somewhat vague reply that he believed they did sometimes, in a tone that made Mr. March put down his clothes brush, glance at Jo's retiring face, and then sink into his chair, looking as if the `precocious chick' had put an idea into his head that was both sweet and sour.

Why Dodo, when she caught him in the china closet half an hour afterward, nearly squeezed the breath out of his little body with a tender embrace, instead of shaking him for being there, and why she followed up this novel performance by the unexpected gift of a big slice of bread and jelly, remained one of the problems over which Demi puzzled his small wits, and was forced to leave unsolved forever.

I am actually a little in the dark too. Sure, Jo is happy because Prof. Bhaer had to give an extremely equivocal hint that he might like Jo, but is there more to it than that? Is she happy that her dad got the picture? Was there more love talk off-screen, that we are supposed to infer?

Anyway, this scrape is marginally better than the raisins one, and I am pleased to officially name it an antic! The chapter has met its quota.