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Linda loved her kids, but sometimes she had to admit she didn't understand them.
Like Candace's continual and frankly ridiculous stories about her brothers creating devices or warping reality. Having an active imagination was a wonderful thing, of course, but Candace always seemed to take it too far--not only attributing unbelievable phenomena to the boys but also insisting it was real. Linda had, from time to time, considered taking her to a psychiatrist, but her strange obsession with whatever she thought her brothers were doing didn't seem to be interfering with her life. She still had her friends, and even time for teenage-typical romance; even the trouble she got into seemed to be the ordinary trouble teens rustled up, nothing really dangerous. It wasn't really fair to suggest she needed... help. Not when she wasn't actually hurting anyone, even herself.
Then again, sometimes issues had to be caught early before they became debilitating...
Linda shook her head as she pulled into the driveway. At the very least, she should make sure Lawrence agreed, and the few times she'd floated the idea he'd assured her Candace was fine. Perhaps a little overstressed, sure, but every teenager went through some of that.
And right on cue, there was her eldest, rushing out the front door and frantically waving her arms for attention. "Mom Mom Mom! The boys have built a five-dimensional waterski course! Come on, quick!"
"Alright, alright, I'm coming." Stepping out of the car, Linda followed her energetic daughter into the backyard, where of course there wasn't anything visible. "A five-dimensional waterski course."
"They're probably on one of the turns that twists them out of conventional reality," Candace explained, glaring at thin air suspiciously. "The tree is supposed to be the finish line. They'll be here."
Linda took in the seriousness of her expression, letting out a low sigh. "Candace... sweetheart. You know I love you, right?"
"Shhhh. Any second now..."
"Candace."
"Aaaaany second."
"Is it something I did?" Linda asked. "Am I not paying enough attention to you? I know I'm usually out doing things with friends, but I can stay home if you want--"
"Focus Mom," Candace snapped. "This time, this time for sure. We'll get them. They are going to be soooooooo busted."
"Busted for what, exactly?"
"For constructing a device that undermines the fundamental stability of the universe and using it for their own entertainment, obviously!"
Linda pinched the brow of her nose. "Candace... they're children."
"That just makes it worse!" Candace protested.
"Sweetheart... this isn't working." Linda put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't you think it's time to come out of your fantasy world?"
"Mom, I--"
"You have a boyfriend. You have a family. You have a driver's permit. But part of growing up is living in the real world. And in the real world," Linda gestured at the backyard, "your brothers are perfectly ordinary children, not magical superbuilders."
"Mom..." Candace began, but then she hesitated. After a moment, she sighed. "Whatever."
Linda loved her kids, but sometimes she had to admit she didn't understand them.
Not that Ferb necessarily made that easy, mind. Oh, she wasn't so foolish as to suggest he 'talk more often,' he communicated easily enough despite speaking nary a word. Still, there was an air of mystery around her son, as though he hid unknowable secrets within his every breath. Which was of course rediculous--he wasn't even fifteen yet. What could he be hiding, a crush maybe? That would be just adorable, although Linda had to admit to herself she didn't know who he could be crushing on exactly. Maybe one of the Fireside Girls... oh, what were their names? Well, the point was, Ferb certainly acted mysterious, but at the end of the day he was really just an ordinary boy.
"So, what's new in your life?" Linda asked with a curious smile.
Ferb shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Nothing? Nothing at all?"
"Well, I have been working on a hyperspace radio," Ferb admitted. "But I'm having a little trouble sequencing the wavelengths properly."
"Oh, is that something from that science fiction series you like so much?" Linda smiled. "How high tech!"
"Actually it's a little old-school. Most people use quantum entanglement nodes. I just thought it would be fun to keep an eye on developing interstellar races."
Linda laughed a bit. Ferb could be so adorable sometimes. "You know, maybe you should stick to more achievable goals, like... oh, a homemade robot! I've seen kits for those in the stores. Do you want me to buy you one?"
Ferb stared at her for a long moment.
Then he picked up his book, shut it, and walked away without another word.
"...Alright, sweetie! I'll... just add it to the shopping list!"
Linda loved her kids, but sometimes she had to admit she didn't understand them.
Phineas was a good boy, kind and willing to help anyone, and he loved learning. Most of the time, she could keep a handle on what he did. Sometimes, though, she would say something and... it felt like he was having another conversation entirely. Like when he was telling her about some space video game he played, and she asked how far he'd gotten and he said 'all the way to Alpha Centauri!' like he'd actually been there. Or that time he'd been talking about delivery truck driver schedules--he had the most eclectic interests, sometimes, and she complimented how organized he was. There were stranger hobbies, she supposed, and it was clear he had some great future ahead of him. She just wished he could be more focused sometimes, so she had an idea of how to support him.
"Hi mom!" Phineas called from the backyard.
"Hey boys!" Linda focused on the pot in her hand, scrubbing it as hard as she could. "What are you up to?"
"Just revolutionizing the automobile industry!" Phineas replied eagerly. "Spherical tires will definitely increase traction! We just have to work out the 'pop out at the slightest pothole' issue."
"Aren't you a little young to be reinventing the wheel?" Darn dried egg fragments, they were the hardest thing to get off...
"Yes, yes we are."
"I guess if you start early, you might be finished by the time you're in your thirties!"
"Actually, we were thinking of wrapping things up this afternoon."
"Come on, boys, you can't just give up like that!"
"No, I meant we'd be done," Phineas clarified.
"Phineas, you can't achieve such a large-scale plan in the course of a single day," Linda pointed out quite reasonably. "Do you know how long it takes to prototype and test a vehicle?"
"A few minutes."
"Maybe on television, but it takes weeks, months even, in the real world." Linda picked up a scraper, focusing on the fragment. "I should really get nonstick pans..."
"Come on, Mom, we do this all the time."
"I love your imagination, Phineas, but you can't honestly expect me to believe that."
For a moment the backyard was quiet.
"...But we do," Phineas insisted, almost uncomprehending."
Linda sighed, putting the pot down and looking out the window. Once again, there was nothing strange where she could see it. "Phineas, you're not even a teenager yet. Building a small fort in the backyard, I can believe. Building a whole car? That's just not realistic."
"Wait, you've seen what we've done, right?" Phineas clarified. "I mean, the roller coaster alone--"
"What roller coaster?"
"...We built it on the first day of summer. It went all through town."
Linda rolled her eyes with a fond smile. "Boys, a roller coaster that size would take a month to build by professionals."
"But you saw it, right?"
"Nope."
Phineas blinked. "Ooooookay. But there was that time we rebuilt the car--"
"You mean the time you washed it?"
"No, the car wash was different, and it was a neighborhood thing."
"You had a carwash?"
"Yeah, the fireside girls helped!"
"Aw, that sounds adorable!" Linda cooed. "All of you standing there with hoses... I wish I could have seen it."
"...So you didn't see the carwash," Phineas said carefully.
"Well, no."
"Or the lemonade franchise we opened."
"One lemonade stand is not a franchise, Phineas."
"Or the cheese theme park?"
"Isn't cheese a ridiculous thing to build a theme park about?"
"Okay, but what about the personal waffletronic service droids? I know one of them made you breakfast today!"
"Sweetheart," Linda said gently, "you are not a robot."
Phineas stared at her for a long moment.
"...So you're saying. All this summer. You haven't seen us make anything."
"What? No! You made that fort. And the little boat when we visited lake Nosey!" Linda smiled encouragingly. "You've got a great future in designing things, Phineas."
"...Sure, mom. Whatever you say."
Linda loved her kids, but sometimes she had to admit she didn't understand them.
She wasn't sure when it started, but the three of them... had begun to drift away from her. She'd ask how their day went, and they'd say things like 'good' or 'fine' or 'meh'. She'd ask how their friends were doing, and she'd get basic reports; Stacy's okay, Buford's doing great, Isabella got a new patch. None of them ever asked her for anything anymore, not even when they went shopping together; at most, she'd find one of Candace's deodorants in her grocery bag, and Candace herself wouldn't say a word. It was starting to feel like she was living with a bunch of strangers.
"I just don't understand it, Lawrence," she complained to her husband one night. "I'm their mother! They--they should trust me, right? I don't think I've done anything to lose their trust."
"Hmm, well, that's a good question. Tell me, what was the last thing they came to you for?"
"Oh, Candace had another ridiculous story about the boys."
"And what did you tell her?"
"Well, I tried to help her stop living in a fantasy world," Lisa explained. "I mean--"
"So she told you something she felt was important," Lawrence mused, "and you told her you didn't believe her?"
Linda sighed. "It's not that simple."
"Maybe it isn't. But Linda... if you're going to ask for their trust, you have to listen to them when they tell you things. You can't just dismiss everything as a flight of fancy just because you've never seen it yourself." Lawrence chuckled. "If that sort of thing was common, nobody would believe in New Zealand!"
Linda frowned, considering his words carefully. "...I... I don't know, Lawrence. I mean... Phineas and Ferb building giant robots? Can you believe that?"
"Yes, easily."
Linda stared at him. "...A rocket to the moon?"
"And beyond, if what I've heard is true."
"A flying carpet," Linda challenged flatly.
"I actually rode that one with them," Lawrence confirmed. "Can you believe the entire second floor opens up like a toolbox lid? It's impressive."
"Lawrence, they're children. Do you really expect me to believe that they can do... all that? Any of that, even?"
Her husband looked her straight in the eyes. "Well, if you don't believe them, you can't trust them. And if you can't trust them, then what kind of mother are you?"
"...Cutting deep, Lawrence."
"I love you, darling, deeply and truly. Unfortunately, that means it sometimes falls to me to point out your faults." Lawrence smiled gently. "After all, the first step toward fixing a problem is acknowledging it exists."
Linda's sleep that night was somewhat restless.
Linda took a deep breath, opening the door "Hey boys, what did you do today?"
"Oh you know," Phineas said casually, "this and that."
Linda hid her instinctive flinch through sheer force of will. "Really now?"
"Yep."
"...would any of this and that involve, uh... space travel?"
Phineas glanced at her for a moment, before sharing a look with Ferb. Ferb pursed his lips, before shrugging his shoulders.
"Nah, we just revitalized tabletop wargaming by making an immersive virtual program."
"Oh?" Linda sat down on the couch. "How'd you do that?"
"Well, once we cracked the haptic inputs, we had to factor in the various rules as written and how they'd translate to full-scale miniature armies..."
Linda loved her kids, but sometimes she had to admit she didn't understand them.
But maybe... maybe she didn't have to.