IAN’s POV :
- - - One Year Later - - -
“I don’t like it, it’s too wet,” Florence whined and pushed her bowl away.
“Baby, it’s soup. It’s supposed to be wet,” I replied.
She gave me an unimpressed look and pouted. At just two years old, this little girl could test my patience like no other. Lately, she was doing this thing where she would eat zero bites for dinner and then ask for a snack five minutes later.
Picking up a spoonful of that chicken soup, I brought it to her mouth and said, “Baby, if you don’t eat your dinner, I’m gonna tell mommy’s and she’s not gonna be happy with you,”
Blackmail, that’s where we’re at right now.
Shaking her head at me, she demanded, “Where’s mommy? I want her to feed me,”
“Mommy’s at work, but she’ll be home soon,” I said as I
