Page 31 of The Grump I Got Stuck With

“No,” she cried, giggling as she slipped off her stool. “I want to stay sparkly!” She ran around the kitchen island, ducking past me on her way to the stairs. I had a horrible vision of her diving onto her bed, spreading sparkles like germs. They’d get into every crease of her comforter, on her pillow, in the fur of her stuffed animals. Florence would spend hours washing things to no avail.

This was how plagues began.

I surged after her. “Straight to the bathroom, please!”

She giggled louder, shrieking.

I glanced over my shoulder at Madison, who was suddenly very busy tidying the island. “Look what you did.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for our art.”

I gave her a flat look. “I’m going to be finding glitter everywhere.”

“Dunhope could use some more pizzazz,” she said, lifting her shoulder. “Some of the hallways are a little dreary.”

“I should have put a glitter clause in your contract.”

She smirked. “I’m a paralegal—I’ll have you know that I’m very good at finding loopholes in contracts.”

I glowered at her as she scooped up a box of craft supplies, nudging me with her hip as she passed. “Stop looking at me like that,” she said. “I’ll make sure the kid is clean.”

I followed her up the stairs.

“Hey, Ken?” Madison called as she swung by the playroom. “Remember you said you were going to show me those new tile markers you got for the bath?”

“Oh, yeah!” she said, crawling out from under a table. She shot me a little smile.

Truthfully, Kenna loved baths. It wasn’t usually difficult to convince her to get in the tub, but she was clearly in a goofy mood.

“Where are they?” Madison asked, looking through some of the gift bags from Christmas.

“Here!” Kenna called, yanking a package of washable bath markers from one of the bags. She skipped up to me, throwing her arms around my leg. “Daddy, can I use these?” A smear of glitter appeared on my trousers and I grimaced. I caught Madison’s smirk.

“If it gets you in the tub, I think it’s a fantastic idea.”

She squealed, taking her markers and skipping out the door and down the hall to the bathroom.

“See?” Madison said. “Crisis averted.”

I gestured to my trousers. Madison’s lips twitched as she gave me an up and down that made my pulse race, but she set off after Kenna without a word.

When I reached the bathroom, Madison was already sitting on the edge of the tub, adjusting the water temperature while Kenna collected her bath necessities from the cupboard—dolls with mermaid tails, an assortment of sea creatures, and even a floating tea set.

“Bubbles!” Kenna cried, producing a large bottle.

Madison took the soap and poured it beneath the running water, frothy white bubbles appearing a moment later.

Kenna clapped her hands together.

“No jumping,” I reminded her as she went to launch herself over the edge of the tub. The problem with Kenna liking baths was that she was an extremely exuberant bather. It took a lot of effort to keep the water in the tub.

I held my hand out, and Kenna took it as she carefully slipped over the edge of the tub, sinking into the bubbles with a giggle. She immediately kicked her little feet, sending a few spouts of water in Madison’s direction.

“Oops!” Kenna said. “Sorry.”

Madison reached for the nearest towel, drying her face. “You’ve gotta get this kid in swimming lessons,” she said to me.

“Braeburn doesn’t have a community pool.” I nodded to her. “You missed some.”