Page 78 of Giddy Up, Daddy

Frustration filled her as she attempted the trick again. “Damn it!”

“Language, babygirl,” Stafford warned from where he was setting up her crafting area.

They’d gone out this morning to get a table and some more furniture to use as storage for her things.

Every evening for the past two weeks, they’d wait until Grandpa Jack retired for the night, then come in here to play. It was so much easier for her to slip into Little headspace in her playroom. And Stafford seemed to relax as soon as he walked through the door.

Today was Saturday, though, so she got to spend all afternoon with Daddy in the playroom.

“But I just can’t get it, Daddy!”

“Well, maybe I can help you.”

“I don’t think you can, Daddy. I’m just bad at it. I’m never going to be a good magician, even with Marshmallow’s help.” She kicked the stage with frustration, then let out a cry, hopping around as pain shot up her foot.

“Blakely!”

Stafford scooped her up and carried her to the bed, sitting her down. Then he crouched in front of her and grabbed her foot, inspecting her toes. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I got frustrated.”

“Can you wiggle your toes?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s okay. It just stung.” She moved her toes back and forth to show him that they were fine.

She felt really stupid, though.

Stafford eyed her for a long moment. “I think someone is cranky.”

“Am not,” she grumbled.

“Ahh, yes you are. You got frustrated and hurt yourself. You also spoke badly about yourself. None of those things are allowed, are they?”

Uh-oh.

“I can’t do it, though, Daddy.”

“And Daddy offered to help you,” he pointed out.

“But magicians shouldn’t need help.”

“Everyone needs help. Don’t magicians have assistants?”

“They just get chopped in half.”

“Well, I don’t really want to get chopped in half. I also don’t want you to hurt yourself when you get frustrated. What are we going to do to remind you that it’s not acceptable to harm yourself? Or to speak badly about yourself?”

“Um, have some donuts?” she suggested.

“What?”

“You could give me donuts. That would help me remember.”

“Nice try,” he replied dryly. “Not happening. What will help you remember is a hot bottom. And after your spanking, you can have a nap.”

“Nooo, Daddy! I don’t want a spanking! Or a nap!”

“Well, it’s not about what you want. Now, are you sure your toes are all right? I should put some ice on them.”

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