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“I didn’t think he would actually take his nap on time today,” Zayne’s voice came from your cellphone.
You laughed, seeing your husband lounging on top of his hotel bed.
Zayne had been away on a business trip for the last three days, leaving you home alone with your toddler son. As luck would have it today, your husband timed his call perfectly, catching you just after you had arrived home from a day outing, but to Zayne’s surprise, his son was already down for a nap despite normally dealing with the struggle of a rebellious child who hated to go to sleep.
“Me neither,” you responded as you paced around the house, tidying the place up, “but we just returned from lunch and hanging out with Auntie Tara so he must have been tuckered out from all that walking.”
“Has he been giving you a hard time?”
You knelt on the floor, picking up stray toys that were left out from the night before. You shook your head, grabbing three plushies from the floor and setting them on the couch to sit side-by-side: Happy Snowman, Windy Carrot, and Astro Penguin.
Zayne visibly sighed, seeing his orange nemesis sitting proudly at the center. You pointedly ignored your husband’s dramatics.
“Aside from the usual trying to steal a few extra minutes of awake time, no,” you answered, smiling. “He’s been a very good boy.”
“He takes after you,” Zayne quipped, smirking.
Seeing his expression, you raised a brow, confused. “What’s with that look?”
“Nothing,” he answered.
“Zayne.”
“Who was it who refused to sleep early despite her eyelids feeling heavy and she was dozing off while watching a movie with me last week?”
“Come on, that doesn’t count!” you protested lightly. “I had an early start that day and there was a long field mission.”
“Precisely why I had told you to rest early,” he countered smugly, adding, “but you kept insisting you could stay up to watch that movie.”
“I was looking forward to that movie!”
“What happened in the first five minutes?”
You gawked at him. “Zayne, you’re being mean to me right now,” you accused, pretending to be angry at your dear husband.
He laughed. “I am not being mean!” he protested, smirking. “You said you were looking forward to that movie. I want to know what you remembered about it.”
“There was…” you trailed off, struggling to remember that night from the previous week. “A cat! There was a cat in the movie!”
“A cat,” he repeated, deadpan. Smiling, he prodded you further with another question: “What did the cat do?”
“It… walked.”
“To where?”
“A place.”
“What was the place?”
“Downtown.”
Zayne broke down laughing, and suddenly your screen went black.
“Dr. Zayne, don’t you dare put me facedown like that!” you shouted, still carrying on the charade of a miffed wife.
He struggled to regain his composure, a chuckle or two slipping out in between his words. Your screen shakily shifted, and you saw your husband’s smiling face as he held his phone upright again. “Miss Hunter, my apologies, but you do need to realize there is no shame in admitting being wrong.”
“You’re right,” you agreed, “So when will you admit you were wrong, Dr. Zayne?”
“You—” his voice stopped abruptly.
You both heard stirring.
“I think he’s up already,” you told Zayne as you stood up. With your phone in your hand, you made your way upstairs to your son’s bedroom. The door had been left opened ajar, so you gently pushed it further open, taking a peek inside. You smiled softly, seeing your son sitting up, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
“Hello, my darling,” you greeted your sleepy son in a gentle maternal voice. You walked over, sitting down on the edge of his bed, your smile widening as he shifted closer and rested his head on your lap. Instinctively, you were rubbing his back soothingly and fixing his messy hair, asking in that same tender tone, “Are you still sleepy?”
“No,” he fibbed.
“Someone is lying,” Zayne said immediately with an even voice.
The little boy immediately perked up when he heard his father’s voice. He looked up confused, glancing around his bedroom searching for the source of the voice he had just heard. “Daddy?”
“Daddy’s on the phone,” you explained, showing the little boy the phone in your hand. “Would you like to say hello to him?”
Zayne smiled and waved at his astonished son.
“Daddy, hi!” the boy cried out excitedly, forgetting his earlier sleepiness. He grabbed the phone from your hand, holding it firmly with both of his smaller ones. He looked at the screen sadly, asking, “Daddy, when will you be back?”
Zayne smiled sympathetically. “Just two more days,” he answered. “It won’t be long.”
His son’s immediate pout seemed to say otherwise. Two days weren’t long, but to a toddler, it might as well have been a whole lifetime.
You shifted on the bed, pulling your son onto your lap. He leaned his head against your torso as he held the phone tighter in his hands. “I miss you, Daddy…”
Immediately, both you and Zayne shared the same expression, feeling sympathy for your son. While Zayne regained his composure quicker, you still felt sad for your son, empathizing with him deeply. Quietly, you hugged the little boy tighter, giving the top of his head a gentle kiss.
“You’re a very brave boy,” Zayne quipped, hoping to lift the mood and console his troubled young son. “Thank you for taking care of Mommy and the house in my place.”
Hearing his father’s earnest praise, the three-year-old’s entire demeanor brightened. The little boy’s head bobbed up and down eagerly, reassuring his father, “Mommy is safe with me around Daddy!”
Both you and Zayne laughed. You gave your son another hug, planting a firm kiss on the top of his head again. “He really has,” you added, “He always makes sure our doors are locked and the blinds are closed at night.”
“And no talking with strangers!” the boy added.
Zayne withheld a grin, noticing a helpless expression passed over your face in a quick instance after your young son’s proud exclamation. He suspected there was an interesting anecdote you would be sharing with him when he returned home later. For now, he returned his attention to his excited toddler.
“Daddy, Daddy!”
“What is it?”
“I saw a seal today with Auntie Tara!”
“Did you?” he responded, smiling, “Tell me all about it. I have some free time for another hour.”
As it turned out, time did move faster when you were having fun, listening to the topsy-turvey storytelling of a toddler, who went off on multiple tangents, you both no longer remembered what the original story was about.
“And then, Daddy—”
The boy stopped speaking abruptly, hearing a knock and a muffled voice speaking to his father on his end. Zayne looked apologetically at the little boy.
“Sorry, son, it’s almost time for me to return to my seminar.”
“Okay…”
“Two more days,” Zayne reminded his son. “We’ll have so much time together when I’m back you’re probably going to wish I would leave again.”
Immediately, his little clone shook his head vehemently. “No, never! Never ever!”
“Never ever?” Zayne teased the boy, delighting in the way his son was strongly reacting.
You hugged your son tighter, sticking your tongue out at your husband playfully. “Wasn’t it bad enough you were being mean to me earlier and now you’re teasing our son?”
“I would say you both have influenced me to behave like this,” Zayne countered.
You pretended to act shock.
“Daddy, that’s not nice!” your son immediately protested, scolding his father. “You need to be nicer to Mommy.”
Zayne smiled helplessly as you hugged the boy tighter.
“My hero,” you declared, kissing his cheek. “At least someone is protecting my honor.”
“I didn’t realize when I asked him to take care of you, I would be on the opposing side,” Zayne quipped.
“Maybe we should punish Daddy for misbehaving just now,” you suggested to the little boy.
Immediately, Zayne noticed the way his son’s eyes brightened, appearing intrigued by your suggestion. The boy had clearly taken after both his parents, having a penchant for such mischievous behavior. Zayne played along with your trickery, asking in a faux accusatory tone, “Punishment? What sort of punishment are we talking about here?”
The boy pondered thoughtfully.
“No working,” he said seriously, “Daddy likes working too much.”
You clamped a hand over your mouth, barely able to stop yourself from laughing in agreement at the little boy’s keen observation. Your husband appeared insulted by the insinuation.
“Okay,” Zayne said, humoring his son with an easy smile. “Is that my only punishment? To work less?”
“And…” the little boy furrowed his brows in deep contemplation. He looked at his father with a stern expression, adding firmly, “You have to give me this many macarons every day.”
He raised up four chubby fingers.
“Ah—well,” you intervened before Zayne could say anything. Gently, you lowered your son’s hand, suggesting, “How about Daddy give you kisses instead?”
“Hmm…”
You both hadn’t expected the toddler to hesitate.
“It appears my kisses have no value against macarons,” Zayne said, feigning hurt. “But if this is my punishment then I guess I won’t ever give you kisses again.”
“Huh?” the toddler startled at his father’s distressed words. “No wait… Mommy is right. You have to kiss me that many times each day.”
Zayne laughed. “Done.”
“And…”
“And?”
“I want to see the seals again with Mommy and Daddy.”
“Done,” Zayne answered easily. “We will go to see the seals again when I am home.”
Zayne smiled, happy when the call ended with his son’s cheering, and knowing just how much he was missed at home by his family.
If this was his son’s idea of a punishment, then Zayne would happily obliged.