“You angry with me, Mommy?” “I’m angrier with your daddy, if I’m being honest.” I mock-glare at my husband, who holds his hands up again. “I only looked away for a second,” he insists. “Shadow and Mist were chasing each other, and I was making sure they didn’t break anything.” “Mm.” I run a hand through Dylan’s messy brown curls and kiss the top of his head. “It’s okay. Just tell Daddy to give you more eggs and flour, okay? And change your T-shirt.” “I was just making Gramma’s cake recipe.” He pouts again, and I melt. “Lila said she liked it last time. I ruined it.”
