“Yes, but remember. Two toys.”
“Of course, babe.” His smile tells me he doesn’t plan to stick to the two-toy rule.
14
LEO
“It’s not a toy,” I protest.
“Yes, it is,” he counters.
“No, it’s a pillow.”
“In the shape of an octopus.”
“It matches your blanket.”
“What blanket?”
“The pink one that you were snuggling with all night.”
“It’s just a blanket. Not my blanket.” His cheeks flush pink.
“Oh, well then, I guess I can throw it away. I was thinking about replacing it?—”
“What, no!” he practically shouts. “I mean, it’s still a good blanket.”
I grin at him. “It is very soft.”
“Fine. One pillow.”
“But it’s a matching set.” I grab the smaller octopus in baby blue and throw it into the cart. He glares but doesn’t fight too hard. “Now which toys do you want?”
“Maybe some paint?”
“Sure.” We head to the craft aisle. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. So while I’m feeling overwhelmed, Whit is over the moon.
“Oh my gosh, look at all the stuff.”
“It’s a lot.”
Whit dashes down the aisle, stopping to pick up something and then putting it down before he moves on to something else.
Thankfully he’s too busy so he doesn’t notice when I put everything he grabs in the cart, even though I don’t know what half of the things are.
He’s grinning from ear to ear when he comes back with a box of finger paints. “This is the one I want.”
Something about the happiness in his voice hits me right in the middle of the chest. Out of all the stuff here, he wants something that a Little would be more likely to enjoy.
“That looks perfect.” I pull his beard down for a kiss, and when we part, he looks at me like I’m the best thing ever. “I think we’ll need some paper.”
“Oh, right.” He turns to leave, but then he notices the cart. “Hey, wait a minute.” His hands go to his hips. “Two toys.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, and he looks down at me. “Art supplies aren’t toys.” I cock an eyebrow and dare him to contradict Daddy.
“You aren’t playing fair.” He pouts, but he’s smiling.
“Daddies make the rules.”
