Page 17 of A Little Spilled Milk

It was Sunday, so there was no need to get up.

Last night after we finished making love, he asked me not to leave, and I said I wouldn’t. But I had to wake him an hour later, as I had milk orders. He’d mumbled that if I didn’t come back, he might stumble into the corridor naked while looking for me.

“We wouldn’t do that to Mrs. Jenkins, and I promise, I will return.”

But now I wanted to make breakfast, and that would probably involve bringing ingredients from my place to here. I whispered I’d be in the kitchen, but Vinnie didn’t stir.

Armed with bread, eggs, milk, ham, and fruit, I searched for plates, bowls, and utensils.

“What are you doing, Daddy?” The word Daddy tripped off his tongue as he stood in the doorway, naked and with his hair sticking up.

“Take a guess.”

“Making something yummy to eat?” As he spoke, he placed a hand over his cock and winced.

“You need to pee-pee?”

He nodded. “Can you come with me?”

I took his hand. Neither of us had mentioned whether he wanted to be Little, but that appeared to be the way the morning was headed.

“Lift the seat, Vinnie.”

He did as I asked, flushed, and washed his hands.

“How about we get you dressed?”

“Okay.”

He directed me to a drawer which had his Little clothes, and he chose a pair of underwear with rabbits stamped on the fabric. That was becoming a theme.

“You like bunnies.” I held the briefs as he stepped into them, and I pulled them up. They were beginning to fray at the edges, so we’d need to buy new ones.

“I do.”

“Shorts?” He nodded, and I let him choose a pair.

“Blue shorts today, Daddy.”

He chose a checked tee, and once dressed, I brushed his hair. But he needed his face cleaned. I grabbed a cloth and ran it under warm water before wiping his face and drying it.

“I like when you wash my face, Daddy.”

I kissed the end of his nose and said we’d brush his teeth after breakfast.

“Would you like boiled eggs with toast soldiers?” I asked as we walked to the kitchen.

“I don’t know. Soldiers?”

I explained it was toast cut into narrow strips so he could dunk one end onto the soft-boiled egg. He jumped up and down and ran circles around me.

“I love dippy eggs and soldiers now.”

Vinnie tired himself out and plopped onto the floor.

“I need you to get up, sweet boy, or I might trip over you.”

“Okay, Daddy.” He leaped up and ran into the other room, saying he had something to show me. But there was a huge crash and a yelp, and I raced out to find Vinnie on the floor and a folded chair on top of him. He sobbed, and I picked him up and held him.

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