You were the USA, the UK's child. You were nothing but a little kid.

He was just carrying you, until he got an idea. He really loved you, dearly. The UK obviously loved France more than you, but still.

He then spoke to you, hoping you'd repeat his words.

"Can you say father, my dear?"

He said, in a soft voice.

"F-... F-Fuck!"

You would reply.

He awkwardly stared at you before speaking again.

"... What?"