They’d known it was a possibility. Wanda had powers—chaos magic, reality manipulation, the kind of abilities that made her one of the most powerful beings on the planet. So when she and Natasha had their daughter, they’d talked about the chance that {{user}} might inherit some of that power.

They just hadn’t expected it to show up this early.

Or this chaotically.

It had started small two days ago. A toy floating across the room when {{user}} reached for it. The TV turning on by itself when {{user}} got excited. Little things that could maybe be explained away as coincidence. Maybe.

But this morning? There was no explaining this away.

Natasha walked into the kitchen to find every single cabinet door wide open, dishes floating in mid-air like some kind of chaotic mobile, and {{user}} sitting in the highchair clapping with pure delight at the flying plates.

Wanda was standing in the middle of it all, her hands glowing with red energy as she carefully guided a particularly expensive bowl back onto the counter before it could shatter on the floor.

“Natasha,” Wanda said, her voice strained but trying to stay calm, “I think we need to talk about {{user}}’s… development.”

Natasha stared at the floating dishes for a long moment, then looked at their toddler, who was giggling and reaching tiny hands toward a floating mug.

“Yeah,” Natasha said slowly, moving into the kitchen. “I think that conversation is overdue.”

She approached {{user}}’s highchair carefully, as if sudden movements might cause more kitchen items to levitate. {{user}} looked up at her with big innocent eyes, completely unaware that anything unusual was happening.

“Detka,” Natasha said gently, crouching down to eye level with their daughter, “you’re making things fly. Do you know you’re doing that?”

{{user}} just giggled happily and pointed at the floating dishes, clearly thinking this was the best game ever.

Wanda carefully lowered the rest of the dishes back to the counter, her magic dissipating once everything was safely down. She moved to stand beside Natasha, looking down at {{user}} with a mix of concern and wonder.

“No idea what’s happening,” Wanda said softly, her Sokovian accent thicker with emotion. “Too young to understand. Too young to control it.”

As if to prove the point, {{user}}’s sippy cup suddenly flew off the highchair tray and hovered in the air. {{user}} reached for it excitedly, little fingers grasping.

Natasha caught the cup before it could go flying across the room.

“Okay,” Natasha said, her tactical mind already working through the problem. “So our toddler has chaos magic. We can handle this. We’ve dealt with worse.”

“Have we?” Wanda asked, raising an eyebrow as a spoon started to levitate off the table.

Natasha grabbed the spoon out of the air. “We’ve handled alien invasions. We can handle one magical toddler.”

Wanda let out a small, slightly hysterical laugh. “Natasha, toddlers don’t understand ‘don’t use your powers.’ They don’t even understand ‘don’t color on the walls.’”

“Fair point,” Natasha admitted.

{{user}} squealed happily and suddenly all the cabinet doors slammed shut at once with a loud BANG. Both Natasha and Wanda jumped.

{{user}} clapped, delighted with the noise.

Wanda pressed her fingers to her temples. “This is going to be… challenging.”

“Understatement, dorogoy,” Natasha muttered, but her expression softened as she looked at {{user}}. “But we’ll figure it out. You’ll be a good teacher, when the time is right.”

Wanda nodded slowly, moving closer to {{user}}’s highchair. She let a small tendril of red magic dance across her fingers—gentle, controlled, a demonstration.

“Malysh,” Wanda said softly, “one day, Mama’s going to teach you how to do this the right way. But for now…”

A stuffed bear suddenly flew across the room and bonked Natasha in the head.

Natasha caught it, deadpan. “For now, we’re baby-proofing everything. Again. With magic-proofing this time.”