Page 21 of A Little Christmas Jericho
No.
Just no, right?
I watched as he leaned over to my plate, and slowly cut up my veggies. Then, I kid you not, I stared as he speared a piece on his fork and lifted it to my lips. "You'll eat your veggies, little boy."
Just like that. No threats, no ultimatums, nothing.
And somehow I found it impossible to deny him.
What the heck was this madness? Was he some kind of mind control wizard?
I opened my mouth and tasted the offending food, chewed and swallowed without further protest.
And practically fell out of my chair in pleasure at his deep, rumbly response of: "Good boy."
Honestly, after the first few bites, I didn't even notice he was force-feeding me, especially not when he swapped out the bites with those of cheesy, gooey macaroni.
In between feeding me, he cut up and ate his own meal, and even though the table was quiet, I had never had a more relaxing meal.
When the last bite was gone and I sat there, a little dazed and far too pleased with myself, Daddy reached across the table and gently wiped the corner of my mouth with a napkin.
"I'm proud of you buddy, you did so well for me tonight," he murmured.
I could feel my face heating all the way to my ears. "It was just broccoli," I said, quickly trying not to melt right out of my chair.
He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "It was more than broccoli, baby. And you know it. Regardless, you were the best boy ever. You'd be surprised how much fuss some people put up over a few veggies."
I frowned.
I didn't like that. I didn't want there to be other boys, evenifI was the best one ever. "So I'm just one in a long line of picky eaters then, huh?" I pushed out my lip in protest.
"Not even close," he said softly. "You're the first boy I've ever brought home, but I've had other Daddies tell me some stories about their boys putting up a fuss."
My throat did that embarrassing thing where words refused to come out past the huge lump in it, so I busied myself with my sippy cup. The strawberry milk was cold and sweet, and I swear my heart did a little jump at how carefully he'd thought about everything and the fact that I was the first boy he'd ever brought into his house.
I didn't know how to feel about that, what to do with the information or how to act.
Luckily, he didn't force the issue. Instead, he stood to clear the plates, so I followed him automatically to give him a hand. He caught me around the waist and guided me back into my chair with a firm, gentle press.
"Uh, uh. There will be nights that I expect my boy to help with chores. But tonight you're going to sit there, colour me a picture, and keep me company."
My entire body turned to mush as he grabbed a brand new colouring book and a huge box of pencils from a cupboard and placed it in front of me. The book wasn't anything fancy, just one of those jumbo ones you could get at the grocery store, butthe fact that he'd brought pencils, instead of crayons warmed my heart.
I'd madeonecomment about not liking the way it felt when wax crayons moved over the paper, and he'd remembered.
"You're too good to be true. You know that? I'm waiting for the carriage to turn into a pumpkin, or the evil witch to force-feed me a poison apple. You know that, right?"
He laughed before bending over giving me a kiss on the head. "I don't mind that you think that. It means my evil plan is working. I'll make you fall so in love with me, and then when you realise I'm anything but perfect it will be too late, and you'll be stuck with me. Now, be a good boy and make me something pretty for my fridge. It's looking pretty empty."
I giggled in response. "You're not supposed to admit to your evil plan, you know."
"Sure I am," he said with a crooked grin. "That way you can't say I tricked you while I lovingly corrupted you."
I tried to focus on the book in front of me, but it was hard to settle completely into my little self while he was moving around the kitchen. By the time he joined me again, the page I'd picked was a riot of uneven colour. I'd selected a page at random, a cartoon bear with an ice cream cone, and had gone absolutely wild with the pencil box.
I was a smidge ashamed of the picture and almost wanted to rip the page out and throw it away before he could get a good look at it, but before I could close the book, he took it from me, a huge smile on his face.
"Is my little man having some trouble concentrating?"
