PABLO
I head downstairs to the dining room where I find the food ready and my wife eating as she feeds our son, Dante. Immediately, he wiggles himself off his mother to crawl down to me with his mouthful of veggies that he hates. That could only be the reason why he is getting away from Violeta.
I pick him up and peck his chubby cheek before I take a seat.
“I also have the same food here, Dante, and I am going to feed you still,”
“No!” He points his index finger at me. He is doing what his mother does to him to me.
“I will hit you,” I point back at him, but he does not get intimidated by me, instead, he laughs. I shake my head, laughing.
I take a fork set next to my plate of food and start eating, not forgetting to toss a boiled baby carrot in Dante’s mouth until he does not wan
