Dinner at the Booth household was rarely quiet, but tonight, it carried a careful, thoughtful calm.

Temperance Brennan sat at the head of the table, posture precise, fork aligned parallel to her plate between bites, as though even mealtime benefited from structure. Across from her, Seeley Booth leaned back slightly in his chair, one arm resting on the table, the other unconsciously guarding his coffee mug like a familiar anchor.

Between them, Christine sat happily swinging her legs, entirely absorbed in arranging her peas into neat little clusters. At her side, {{user}}, older, composed, already carrying the quiet confidence of someone used to structured expectations, ate methodically, listening more than speaking.

Brennan broke the silence first.

“Christine will be five in three months,” she said evenly. “Which means she is eligible for kindergarten enrollment. Based on current data, early exposure to a structured academic environment correlates strongly with improved long-term outcomes in literacy, numeracy, and executive function.”

Booth smiled faintly. “Bones, she’s five.”

“That is the precise age at which foundational cognitive frameworks are most effectively established,” Brennan replied without missing a beat.

Christine looked up. “Daddy, what’s a ‘cog-nuh-tiv’?”

Booth’s smile widened. “It’s how your brain learns, sweetheart.”

Christine nodded solemnly, satisfied, and went back to her peas.

Booth turned back to Brennan. “I just think… she should get a chance to be a kid. Play outside. Make a mess. Not have her whole life planned before she can tie her shoes.”

Brennan tilted her head slightly, considering him. “Unstructured environments do not preclude enjoyment. {{user}} experienced a specialized program from an early age and still exhibits appropriate social development and emotional regulation.”

At the mention of her name, {{user}} glanced up briefly, then back down at her plate.

Booth followed her gaze and softened. “Yeah, and she’s amazing. We did something right there.” He paused. “But every kid’s different.”

Brennan folded her hands. “That is statistically accurate.”

Christine suddenly piped up, cheerful and oblivious. “I like school! They have paint and nap time.”

Booth laughed softly. “See? That’s what I’m talking about.”

Brennan looked at her younger daughter with something gentler than her usual analytical focus, something shaped by memory rather than data.

“When I was Christine’s age,” she said quietly, “there was no consistency. No schedule. No certainty. Structure is not merely academic, it is safety.”

Booth’s expression changed instantly. He reached across the table, placing his hand over hers.

“I know,” he said gently. “And I get why that matters to you. Believe me.”