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They all stared at him.
“What?” he asked.
“We can think about that later,” Jameson said. “But I’ll ask around for a good therapist, all right?”
“A kind one,” she whispered.
“Of course, Shortcake.”
“How about some Little time with Daddy, Daddy Two, and Papa?” Ian suggested.
“Daddy Two!” Jack said. “Ian, I’m surprised you’re calling yourself that.”
Ian narrowed his gaze at Jack. “I wasn’t.”
“Do I get to choose what we do?” she asked, eyes widening as she bounced on Ian’s lap. Her sore bottom protested the movement.
Ouchie.
“Within reason,” Ian said.
“What does that mean?” she asked. “There shouldn’t be any reasons, Daddy.”
“Last time you got to choose what we all did, you put make-up on all of us,” Jameson said dryly.
“I don’t care what anyone says, I looked freaking hot,” Jack declared.
She giggled. “I was going to suggest baking! I wants to bake a cake.”
Jameson and Ian looked slightly alarmed. Jack grinned.
“Yes! Chocolate?” Jack asked.
“Of course, Daddy. What’s the point if it’s not chocolate? And then we can eats it while we watch a film. Please, Daddy? Papa?”
She gave them her best puppy dog eyes. Which were pretty darn impressive if she did say so herself.
“All right, Shortcake. I can’t say no to that face.” Papa smiled at her.
“Fine, but there are rules,” Ian said.
“Rules are so boring, Daddy,” she complained.
“They keep us safe. You’re to stay on your stool and not move around the kitchen unless one of us lifts you down.”
She sighed. “Okay. Is that it?”
“No. You’re not to touch the stove.”
“How will I do that if I’m not allowed off the stool?” she asked.
Ian raised an eyebrow. “Are you getting sassy with me? Because there is a naughty corner with your name on it.”
Literally.
Jack had a wooden sign made of her name and had secured it to the wall in the corner of her nursery.
They didn’t call it a time-out because that had a different meaning in their house.
