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“No.”
“Tyler-”
“Wednesday, no ,” he said firmly, moving around her to put some folded towels away in the hallway closet.
“I don’t see why you’re so opposed,” she complained.
“You know you’re right. I wonder why that could be?” He deadpanned.
“You should reconsider,” she said.
Oh, that was it.
“For the last time, our two year old child is not watching a slasher movie!” He exclaimed in exasperation. He was not going to budge on this. No matter how many times she tried to persuade him.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she rolled her eyes.
Him? Him? He was the ridiculous one? He’d laugh if this wasn’t so....well, ridiculous.
She huffed, snatching up the film he’d brought home the night before. “We’re certainly not letting him watch Curious George ,” she read the title in disgust. “Why would you bring this filth into our house?”
He and his wife shared vastly different views on appropriate entertainment for their child. Wednesday saw no problems with letting him watch a wide variety of horror movies before he could even fully feed himself without assistance. On the contrary, she had this messed up belief this was a part of a healthy, balanced childhood.
Tyler thought it through a little--a lot--more rationally. He didn’t want Dean waking up in the middle of the night, wailing from a nightmare. Wednesday, on the other hand, was adamant he would be fine because he has Addams blood in him .
Call him crazy, but he wasn’t convinced.
It wasn’t often Tyler tried to be authoritative when it came to his wife, he loved her too much and he would never try to exert any control over her, but he had to put his foot down this once. “Dean is not watching that and that’s final.”
“Why?” She demanded. “It’s educational.”
“You know what, you’re right,” he snarked, “he needs a way to deal with any bullies when he starts preschool, right?”
“I’m glad you finally understand.”
He groaned. “ Wednesday...”
“I’m going to suggest a compromise,” she told him.
“You mean like put that movie away ‘till he’s older?” Probably not but he tried to be optimistic.
“No,” she scoffed. “I will put it on for him and if he becomes scared, you may take him and comfort him.”
“Oh, no ,” he shook his head again. “If he gets scared, you’re comforting him. This is your idea, not mine.”
“Very well. I shall do so. Now do we have a deal?”
He just knew he’d regret this. “Alright, fine.”
Later on that night, Wednesday turned off the lights in the house. Tyler thought it was highly unnecessary but she insisted it was done for a proper movie experience. On the couch, Dean was curled in the corner with his blanket over him, sucking on his sippy cup full of juice. His eyes were beginning to droop. There was no telling how long he’d last until he crashed for the night.
“You sure you don’t wanna wait?” Tyler asked after glancing at their son once more.
“No. And he wouldn’t be this way if you hadn’t taken him out in the sun of all things,” she muttered.
“He likes the park,” Tyler said with a shrug.
She sighed. “He is more like you than I feared.” Wednesday did not appreciate the snort from him but he’d deal with that later.
Dean looked nothing like her. His eyes were a bright blue and his hair dirty blonde with messy curls. His cheeks, unlike Wednesday’s, were always full of color. His wife was disgruntled by this at first and he made sure to tease her about how her genes were overruled by his own.
“Mama, Daddy. Sit!” Dean really wanted them to sit with him, making a whining noise for emphasis.
“That noise is unbecoming, Dean,” Wednesday said plainly. She did, however, gracefully lower herself onto the couch. Their son crawled towards her lap, snuggling up close. Tyler wished he hadn’t left his phone in the other room. That was definitely picture worthy.
Especially when he hugged one of her braids to his cheek. “Love you, Mama.”
Tyler’s heart melted. His wife was not good with words, though she did smooth down their son’s hair, murmuring, “I love you too, mijo."
“Daddy!” Dean’s tiny hand was flapping in his direction. “ Daddy! ”
Tyler reached out to hold it. “I’m coming, I'm coming,” he assured the boy, sitting on the couch cushion. As soon as he did, Dean made his way over to him, causing his wife to hiss under her breath when their son’s knees dug into her painfully. “Hey,” he settled Dean into his lap, “don’t hurt Mama, okay?”
“I’m fine,” she huffed.
Dean leaned back into Tyler’s arm, his blanket thrown over him. He seemed to find fascination with the buttons of his father’s flannel, touching them with curiosity filled eyes. “Oooh,” he said.
“You’d better hope he doesn’t yank them off,” his wife remarked dryly.
“I’ll take the buttons over my hair.” Their little boy had an affinity for yanking hair. He must have grown out of it, not having done it for a few months now, much to their relief.
Wednesday hummed in acknowledgement, using the remote to play the movie. Tyler sighed. This would go one way or the other. He just hoped Dean would be okay. If he wasn’t, he was going to be telling I told you so to his wife for the next century.
Except....it didn’t happen.
Tyler was in disbelief watching his son clap happily to the movie. He giggled when the killer slashed the throat of an unsuspecting couple, not terrified by their screams of horror.
“Unbelievable....” He muttered.
“Daddy, Daddy, look!” Dean tugged on his shirt, pointing to the TV where the victims were getting dismembered, wearing the widest grin Tyler had ever seen on him.
Why did he suddenly feel like he should be afraid?
“....I see, Buddy.”
He’d never seen Wednesday look so proud.