So, the anon who requested Cathy/Alex also requested Charlie/Maddie, and I've come to deliver! Anon, whereever you are, I hope you see and enjoy these!
They planned to get some pets after their child was born. Maddie seems to like cats, if Apprehend Me If You're Able is any indication, and Charlie seems like he'd like dogs. Weirdly enough, I can also see them wanting birds.
I feel like if Charlie had lived, they would've eventually wanted George to have some siblings.
If they lived in the modern era, Maddie would affectionately say that Charlie has "golden retriever energy."
Inspired by Charlie's journal, Maddie began chronicling the life of her and her son after Charlie's death, writing down precious moments to remember and later recount to her son.
In the modern day, Charlie would absolutely love to help their child(ren) with their science fair projects, staying up super late to help, and going to the science fair/presentations to support his kid(s).
Charlie liked to talk to and befriend their neighbors. (He'd love neighborhood gatherings in the modern day.) He'd learn neighbors' birthdays, and give them something for birthdays and holidays. The neighbors usually appreciated his presents and friendliness, but Maddie was always good at reading the room, so to speak, and tactfully excusing herself and Charlie when she could tell they were overstaying their welcome.
They had very organized chore charts, planning on adding their child(ren) to the chart when they were old enough, in order to avoid any sibling fights over whose turn it was to do what.
Maddie always felt extremely depressed on the anniversary of Charlie's death. She was tempted to lock herself in her room and cry, but she knew isolating herself from her son would be very detrimental. Instead, Maddie would take the day/whatever time she had to tell George stories of his father and how much he'd loved his family.
Charlie and Maddie had an extremely well-written, cute slow burn that lasted nearly the entire game. Too bad a certain blonde mf ruined it all.
