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"Hey, I said I’m fine," I retorted, my voice strained.
He didn't falter, though. Standing up, he crossed his arms, his small frame suddenly appearing larger. "No, you are not fine," he said, mimicking the stern tone of a Daddy reprimanding his Litttle. "And this...," he gestured to the shredded doll clothes, "...is not fine either. You're behaving like a naughty girl. That's not very nice."
"Nice is overrated," I replied dismissively. His attempts at scolding me, though filled with good intentions, were unfortunately as effective as using a paper umbrella in a hurricane.
“That’s it, young lady,” Mike said with a frown. “You’re being very difficult right now.”
I paused, my fingers frozen mid-shred.
"But..." I started, but Mike cut me off. "No buts, Lina," he said, his tone softer now. "Remember what we always say? Negative emotions need to be directed towards something positive."
"I didn’t do anything wrong!" I said.
Surrounded by the remnants of the doll clothes, Mike in his animal pajamas, tried his best to mimic the stare of a stern authority figure. His scowl was as genuine as a toddler's tantrum, while his pointing finger wavered with the struggle of trying to stay serious.
"That’s it. You're in big trouble, Missy!" He wagged his finger at me. "Very big trouble indeed."
"And why am I in trouble?" I asked, playing along.
"You broke the rules! The sacred rules of our play space!" He exclaimed, his voice teetering on the edge of a theatrical whisper. He recited the rules he had meticulously devised, a hodgepodge of borrowed Daddy directives and his Little wisdom. "You never ever use play time for meanie stuff. It's a fun place, a happy place."
I couldn't help but roll my eyes and shake my head at his words.
"Now, let's recap the rules," he began, his fingers extending with each point he listed. "No tearing of clothes, no hurting feelings, and always, always, share toys. Am I forgetting something?"
Each rule was followed by a small threat, of him taking away my doll or limiting my cookie intake, painting a funny picture of punitive action.
"But Mike..."
"No buts!" He interrupted me with an air of self-importance that was entirely too adorable to be authoritative. "And since you've been naughty, I should punish you."
"And what's the punishment?"
He pondered for a while, his brow furrowing adorably. "Hmm... You have to... um... you have to..." He finally shrugged, dramatically flinging himself on the floor with a sigh. "I don't know! How do Daddies do this? It's so hard and tiring. I'm just a Little, you know."
He sat back on the floor, looking defeated but not disheartened.
His eyes suddenly lit up. "I have a better solution!" he declared, his hands animated.
"And what's that?" I probed, a chuckle escaping me at his theatrics.
Just as he was about to respond, his eyes caught sight of my plush shark toy.
"Wow, so cool!" he exclaimed, all previous thoughts abandoned. He picked up the toy, his fascination evident as he examined the shark. “I should get myself one of these.”
Clearing my throat, I prompted, "Mike?"
With a jump, he startled, his eyes darting back to me. "Right! I was saying something important, wasn't I? Now, now. What was it?" he queried, trying to regain his lost stern persona.
"You were about to tell me my punishment, remember?" I reminded him, my voice teasing.
"Oh, right!" he exclaimed, his face flushing. He looked around, confusion crossing his face. "Wait, are we in your room? How did I get here?" He got lost deep in thought and then giggled, "Oh, yeah, Daddy dropped me here." Picking up his smartphone, he declared, "Now, let's get to your punishment, Missy!"
He unlocked his phone and started dialing a number. I watched him, the remnants of my laughter fading.
"Who are you calling?"
"No one you need to worry about," he said, his tone implying that I was still in his naughty corner.
