He shook his head, curly hair bouncing.
“What? No eggs?” Dionysus teased. “Okay, what about…yogurt?”
Acamus shook his head again, smiling this time.
“No yogurt, either?” he asked, feigning surprise “What do you mean no yogurt?”
Dionysus tickled his stomach and Acamus giggled.
“Hmm. No eggs and no yogurt. I can’t imagine what you might want.”
“Uncle,” Acamus said, small hands pushing against his chest. “Pancakes.”
“Oh, pancakes!” Dionysus exclaimed, exaggerating his tone. “How could I forget! Of course you can have pancakes for breakfast. Get your chair so you can help.”
He lowered the boy to his feet and followed him into the kitchen.
A second later, an abrasive grate filled the room as Acamus pushed his chair to the counter. Dionysus retrieved the supplies which he kept on a designated shelf in the pantry. Pancakes were the only thing Acamus had eaten for breakfast for the last month, so while he teased the boy with other options, he knew what he would choose.
“Here is your bowl,” Dionysus said, setting them on the counter.
He measured out the ingredients and handed it to Acamus who dumped them into the bowl.
“Time to stir,” Dionysus said when everything had been added.
“Stir, stir, stir!” Acamus repeated, giving up on using his inside voice entirely as he moved the whisk back and forth in the bowl. Eventually, Dionysus had to convince the toddler to let him help so they could move on to cooking the pancakes, though he wasn’t sure Acamus cared if they were cooked judging by the batter all over his mouth.
“You are messy,” Dionysus said.
“Messy, messy,” Acamus repeated.
Dionysus pulled Acamus’s chair to the stove before pouring a ladle full of batter onto the flat surface of the griddle.
Acamus mimicked the sound of sizzling pancakes, letting out a low hiss.
“Ready for chocolate chips?” Dionysus asked.
“Yes!” Acamus said, holding out his cupped hand. He knew the drill and so did Dionysus. The first round went right into Acamus’s mouth. The second made it on the griddle. Whether they ended up on the pancakes was another story.
“Something smells delicious.”
Dionysus looked up as Ariadne strolled into the room, still dressed in one of her many rotating sets of Christmas pajamas. Her hair was down, spilling over one shoulder in a thicker layer of dark waves.
“Auntie!” Acamus exclaimed and Ariadne smiled. It was wide and warm, her eyes alight with a happiness he could not inspire.
The truth was, the months following the war had been rough for both of them, but they’d stuck it out for Acamus, growing closer in those rare, quiet moments.
“Good morning, my little dove,” Ariadne said, lifting him into her arms. He giggled as she peppered kisses all over his face. “Did you sleep well?”
“Down!” he said instead of answering.
Ariadne didn’t argue, and once Acamus’s feet touched the ground, he ran out of the kitchen.
“Well,” she said, watching him go. “At least he’s using his words.”
Up until recently, the toddler had answered every question with the word no.
Ariadne met his gaze.
