He wanted to know why she wasn’t willing to share to the point they’d argued about it, and, from the way Ian had been holding them apart, they’d gotten physical over it.
JP rocked Peter, looking over the little boy’s room.The coloring books he’d bought the kids were still sitting there on Petey’s little table.
Unused.
He frowned.Peter hadn’t been coloring in his coloring books, but his sister’s?
“Petey?Your colors are in here, son.Did you know?”
Peter shook his head.“No.”
“Look, over on your table.There’s the books.I bet the crayons are here too.”Which would mean Petey had been using Tori’s colors from what little he’d heard, without asking.
“Her had mine red crayon!”
“Are you sure, buddy?”
“Yes!”
Man, nearly four-year-olds were stubborn.Almost as stubborn as their daddy.
“How about we check your box then,” he suggested.
Petey sniffled softly.“‘kay…”
Man, he guessed every little thing was huge at this age.
He watched as Petey went and got the new box of crayons.
Petey handed them over and he opened the box — the red crayon right there.
“She didn’t take your crayon, son.”
“I—” The tears started again.
“I know – you thought it was yours.So you thought she was being mean.”He hugged Petey again, feeling extremely inadequate at this father thing.
“Uh-huh.I sorry.”
The sobs broke his heart.
“It’s okay, Petey.Please stop crying.You can say you’re sorry to her, okay?”He kept awkwardly patting Petey’s back.
“Love you.”Petey snuggled in, holding him tight.
Tori came storming in, eyes flashing.“Sorry for hitting but you should not push and ask nice to share!”
“Tori, that’s not how we apologize.”
His daughter wasn’t crying.She was pissed.“It is TOO!”
JP bit the inside of his cheek because he knew he couldn’t laugh; he knew it.But he sure wanted to.
She stared at Peter, looking like an avenging angel.“You now.You say sorry to me.”
“Sorry.My color is here.”Peter showed her the box.
She rolled her eyes.“We can share.Not the books.You have color books.I have color books.But the colors.‘kay?”
