Page 143 of Mr. Aster
“Very well, sir. Allow me about twenty minutes to prepare your meals,” she said, leaving me to deal with a disgruntled three-year-old.
“Listen, Char,” I said, somewhat losing my patience not even an hour into our flight to Mexico, “you must stop this behavior before we arrive in Mexico.”
“Why?” she protested.
Stand your ground. She’s testing you.
“If you don’t, then once we arrive there, and Becky is no longer serving your favorite snacks on the plane, you’ll be forced to eat what people with bad behavior must eat while in Mexico.”
That got her attention.
“What do people with bad behavior eat in Mexico, Daddy?”
“Bugs. Mostly grasshoppers,” I said, raising my eyebrows as she wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Grasshoppers?” she giggled. “No way. You’re fibbing.”
“I wish I was.” I started thinking this would be a good way to talk about Darcy with her. “Do you remember when daddy was always angry, and you never saw me?”
She nodded. “Kind of,” she answered.
Charlotte didn’t have many memories of her mother’s passing or the dark time I’d had after that, but she did seem to have some.
“Remember when you would rather play with the nanny than with me?”
“Yes,” she chuckled.
“Well, back then, I was sort of rotten. I was behaving a bit like you are currently,” I said with a knowing arch of my eyebrow.
“I’m not angry like you were, Daddy,” she shot back with a silly grin.
“Oh? So, you’re happy that you don’t get to sit up there with Captain Steve, and you’re also happy that you aren’t getting your way to go sit with Callie?”
“I’m not happy about that at all,” she said with authority, prompting me to bite my lip to stop me from laughing again.
Children could be so cute when they were little brats sometimes.Sometimes.
“Well, I felt the same way then, and that’s why you only wanted to be with Callie.”
“Because she was nice,” she stated factually.
“Exactly my point, and I had to eat bugs in Mexico for the same ugly behavior you’re showing me now.”
That got the laugh out of Charlotte I loved hearingalmostmore than anything else in the world.
“Did Mexico make you eat their bugs to make you nice again, Daddy?” she said through her laughter.
“Mexico came up with the idea, but my very special friend is the one who made me eat them,” I said, watching her face grow curious.
“You have a friend?”
“I know it doesn’t seem like your dad hasanyfriends, but I have more than just one, child,” I said dryly.
“Sure, Daddy,” she said playfully.
“That amuses you more than your daddy being fed dead grasshoppers?” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes, Daddy. It’sveryrude.”
