
I sent Thumbelina (age 7) in first, with a nudge and a "go wake up Daddy." She came back five minutes later looking sad. When I asked her what was the matter she said: "Daddy is mean. Just because I told him his breath smelled worse than poop, he growled at me and told me to get out. I need a hug, mommy..."
Then I sent in the baby. At 21 months, she tippy-toed into the room and said in the sweetest voice imaginable: "Dadda! Det UP!" and I heard some murmured conversation between them and a big smack of a kiss and then she she toddled back down the hall and into the kitchen. She scowled at me, grabbed a cucumber off the counter and said: "For Dadda. No for Momma." And scampered back into the bedroom. She came back out a minute later and handed me the cucumber, looking confused.
Apparently, he didn't want a cucumber.

Hawk hopped off the bed with a thump and started walking back to his room, as he said:
"Sorry... I was just practicing."
The Cap'n was all: "Practicing?! For WHAT?" But he was already out of bed. Well done, Hawk.
The. End.
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