She wrinkled her nose and made a playful grimace as she said the word “work.”
Noah went on his knees on the chair and thew both hands in the air. “Play!”
Josie shot a judge-y look at Logan. “And there you have it.”
Logan looked over at me. He still seemed unsettled for whatever reason, but at least he wasn’t glaring anymore. “I guess he’s staying, then.”
“I guess so,” I replied primly, basking in my mini win. Josie winked at me as she shuffled back to the kitchen.
“Where’s Ariel?” Noah asked, bending over to look under the table.
“You don’t see her?” I asked. The kitten was never far away from her favorite boy. “She’s in the room, but she’s napping in a secret spot.”
“Where?” His little head swiveled as he surveyed the dining room.
Logan was tapping away on his phone, probably telling the office Noah wasn’t coming.
“Let’s play a game of hot and cold to find her,” I suggested.
“Okay!”
“Once you finish your breakfast,” I added.
“Hmf,” he grumbled, but he picked up his spoon.
“Take some glaze,” I pushed the bowl toward him. “Your dad loves it.”
I hoped it would be a segue to get Logan back into the conversation, but he was detached. He’d even angled himself away from me, like he was giving me the cold shoulder. I just didn’t getwhy.Was he really that upset we wouldn’t be bringing Noah to the office? Or was the problem that I’d made that plan without talking to him?
He’d trusted me to make the right decisions for his son up until this point, so what had changed?
“Daddy, do you see Ariel?” Noah asked.
Logan finally put down his phone and glanced around the room. I watched his eyes land on the kitten curled up in an oversizedplanter by the window, the remains of a murdered fern scattered all around her.
“I do. Three more bites of oatmeal and we can play hot and cold.”
“Okay!” He shoveled the food into his mouth and jumped off the chair still chewing. “Let’s go.”
We both chuckled at his enthusiasm, even if the manners left plenty to be desired.
“Getting warmer,” I coached as Noah started circling the room.
It only took a few minutes before we were back to normal, laughing at Noah’s ridiculousness.
Still, I made a mental note to try to figure out why Logan fell apart over something so minor.
Was it possible to be talked out? Because after a full day of brainstorming at the office, with my brain as the epicenter of said storm, all I wanted to do was go home, put on soft pants, and chill—and maybe not speak again for twelve hours or so.
Everyone was wildly supportive of my ideas, though. We were onto something incredible, and I was proud to be leading the charge. So many families were going to benefit from the new plan.
We’d finally called it a day, but everyone was so excited about what was to come that half the group was still standing around the conference room chatting. I’d found a strong ally in Grace from the marketing department when it came to the creativityand art area, since she created graphic novels in her off hours and had a thriving Etsy shop.
“I love the idea of having visiting artists at the daycare,” she said to me as we finally started gathering our things. “Can I go first?”
I laughed. “I’m not sure if I’m going to be involved in those decisions, but I’ll put in a good word for you. It’s a funny coincidence that you do graphic novels, because lately Noah is getting really into comic book-style art.”
“Oh no way! I love that; you should totally nurture it. There’s this camp I heard about that’s put on by Graphix, the company that puts out all of those amazing middle grade graphic novels. The authors do workshops and help the kids learn the art of storytelling. It’s a sleepaway in Santa Monica, so it’s not far from here. I bet he’d love that.”
