Page 28 of Daddy!

When I had calmed down, I looked up at him. "What you said was incredibly beautiful, Daddy."

His cheeks flushed red. "Thank you. Are you okay? You know I just want you to always know how loved you are and how proud I am of you."

"I know, Daddy, I know. You show me all the time, even when you don't say it, and even if you don't think I do or I don't exactly act like I do, I do."

But the most surprising thing to me about our relationship was utterly simplistic and entirely free and went against everything I believed in as a little. Everything. I. Believed. In. And it was hard for me to even recognize that it was something I liked, because it really shouldn't have been.

It was the simple power of a very simple word.

"No."

And he used it all the time with me, for big things and small, and I quickly learned that trying to talk him out of it was a delicate matter and that I never really knew how far I could go with whining.

That was a particularly painful lesson to learn.

No, I couldn't have candy after just having had dessert.

No, even if I couldn't sleep, I had to rest quietly in bed during my afternoon nap time.

No, Daddy would not take me to see Deadpool 2.

No, I couldn't not go to yoga, unless I was sick.

I thought I had gamed the system there, because I then, immediately, wholeheartedly, agreed that I was sick. Big, big, big mistake. Even bigger than the whining one.

Mane came to stand in front of me and tipped my chin up to him, using his other hand to feel my forehead. "What's sick, babygirl?" he asked, all concerned about me.

"Uhh, my stomach. Tummy's not feelin' well, Daddy. So, no yoga for me." I tried not to sound too happy about it.

"You're absolutely right," he agreed. "C'mon. Let's get you tucked up in bed, instead."

What—bed? Who said anything about bed? "B-but Daddy! We were gonna go to the flea markets an' see if we could fin' some more movies for me—us!"

"I know, angel, but you're not feeling well enough for yoga. You've got a tummy ache, and I need to make sure that you're not coming down with something. Maybe an enema would help," he said, corralling me into the bedroom.

I stopped short at the word "enema", but he didn't, carrying me along with him to his bed. He turned the sheets down and guided me under them, then got the baby bag, where I remembered with horror the enormous vat of Vaseline lived, as well as a brand spanking new rectal thermometer!

It was a miracle, I swear! I threw back the covers and tried to get out of bed. "I'm feelin' all better now, Daddy. It was a-a false alarm. I'll just get my stuff an' you can take me to yoga."

Mane parked himself in front of me, so I couldn't get around him. "I don't think so, little miss."

Man, I hated that tone! It made my little white lie about my stomach ache become a reality as butterflies began dive bombing each other in there.

"You said you had a stomach ache, and the only time I've ever seen one get better that fast was when the tummy ache-ee was fibbing to try to get out of something." He cupped my chin in his hand. "Is that what's happening here, Tahlia?"

I burst into tears, and he held me, of course, sitting down on the bed and cuddling me. "I din't wanna go to yoga, Daddy," I sobbed.

"Why, sweetie?"

I shook my head while rubbing my hands over my eyes. "I dunno. I just don'. I wanna stay here, with you."

"Well, that's very nice to hear, doll, and you know I always want to be with you, too. But you know how I feel about you just ditching things because you don't want to do them. We've paid ahead for that class, and you only go once a week. And yoga is very good for you."

"Yes, Daddy."

He checked his watch. "But. You'd be late by now, anyway. So, you're going to get your temperature taken, just because I'm a cautious Daddy, then you're going to get a good, hard paddling with your brand-new paddle for fibbing to your Daddy. After which, you're going to be put to bed for the night."

The paddling was going to be bad enough. I'd seen that thing when he'd bought it and put it in my nightstand drawer. It was going to be worse than my hairbrush! But then to be put to bed—it was only six now! I'd be in bed for the rest of the night at seven! None of it bore thinking of!

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