Page 45 of Viking Ink

Looking at my watch, I realized we’d spent three hours in here. I should probably encourage Rhys to start packing his toys away, then run him a bath.

He’d spread his toys about the rug, humming happily as he bounced his foam blocks, and giggling when the widgets inside squeaked.

“Baby bear, time for the toys to go away.”

Rhys looked up at me, his eyes still filled with a soft haziness. He shook his head, making his blonde curls bounce, and continued to play, turning his back on me.

Hmm. Someone was testing his limits.

I moved into his line of sight. “Baby bear, time to pack up now. You can play with them tomorrow.”

He shuffled around so again his back was to me. The adorable little shit was giving his brat side a go.

“Rhys, Daddy has asked you nicely to put your toys away. The quicker it’s done the quicker we can have some fun in the bath.”

Pop dropped from his lips, and he pouted. “No.”

Lowering my tone, I knelt down. “Baby bear, this is not up for negotiation. Toys away.”

Rhys looked at the soft fabric brick he was holding, then back to me, the pout on his sweet face only increasing.

“No.” There was a flash of defiance in his eyes, and an unmistakable glint of mischief.

My baby bear was definitely pushing, I knew that, testing to see how far he could go. It was healthy for him to be able to express his displeasure—he’d been long denied that by his father—but he had to learn that Daddy’s rules were set in stone, and naughty boys were punished.

We’d discussed this earlier, so he knew what to expect, and to use his safe word if it became too much. “Baby bear, you have a choice. Pack your toys away and we can have a lovely bath time, or be a naughty boy and go over my knee.” I made my voice firm and held Rhys’s gaze.

There was a slight narrowing of his eyes, but no hesitance or fear, and I waited to see what he would do next. I wanted him to enjoy little time, but also respect Daddy’s rules.

My thoughts came to a screeching halt when a fabric brick bounced off my forehead.

I nearly burst out laughing at the shocked look on Rhys’s face, like he couldn’t believe he’d done that, but it was quickly replaced with that adorable pout.

He reached for another of the soft blocks. “No Daddy, don’t wanna.” He grabbed the soft block and held it to his chest. “Wanna play bricks.”

“Baby bear, we do not throw toys when we are angry.” I reached out and gently cupped his chin. “You will get to have playtime tomorrow, but it’s getting late. Now let’s pack up your toys.”

I was starting to think that time out on the naughty stool might be the best idea when another brick bounced off my head and Rhys’s pout intensified. Well, then.

Start as you mean to go on, as my dad would say.

Rhys threw another block. His display was not a shock to me—it was actually reassuring to me that he felt comfortable enough to show his defiant little streak—but still, it wouldn’t stand.

“Rhys, stop!” My sharp command pulled him up short.

He snatched up his paci and quickly stuck it in his mouth.

“You’ve been a naughty boy, not my sweet little baby bear. Now pack your toys up and then we’ll talk about your punishment.” Rhys sucked harder on his pacifier, and I gave him time to think, to call red if he needed to.

He gave a long, petulant pull on his pacifier, and then scowled. “Don’t wanna.”

“All right, baby bear. You’ve been given enough chances. Up you get.” I lifted him to his feet and led him towards the bed. I sat down on the edge of the bed and patted my lap. “Five swats for throwing toys, and five for not listening to Daddy.”

He let out a noisy breath through his nose before he draped himself over my lap. I rested a hand on his back, and felt the slight tremor in his breathing.

“Colour, baby?”

“Green, Daddy.” Rhys sounded sure, even though his voice was slightly muffled by his pop.

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