Margaret forced a smile.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack."
Ethan looked at the floor.
Then at her.
"What was he doing down there?"
Margaret's smile faded.
Noah's arms tightened around Ethan's neck.
"He spilled juice."
Ethan waited.
Margaret gestured toward the table.
"I told him to carry his cup carefully. He ignored me. Again."
"So you made him eat on the floor."
"It was a consequence."
Ethan looked at her.
"He's four."
"Exactly. Old enough to learn."
Ethan stared.
Margaret's expression hardened slightly.
"I don't appreciate that look."
"What look?"
"Like I've done something terrible."
Ethan looked down at Noah.
The boy had gone completely silent.
"Did she do this before?"
Noah's eyes moved toward Margaret.
That was enough.
Ethan felt heat rise into his chest.
"Buddy."
Noah whispered:
"Sometimes."
Margaret exhaled sharply.
"Don't interrogate him."
Ethan's head turned.
"I'm asking my son a question."
"And you're making it sound worse than it is."
Ethan lowered Noah to the floor.
The boy immediately grabbed his hand.
Ethan noticed.
He stayed between Noah and Margaret.
"How often?"
Margaret crossed her arms.
"Ethan."
"How often have you made him eat on the floor?"
She stared.
"Whenever he deliberately misbehaves during meals."
"Deliberately?"
"He's testing boundaries."
"He's four."
"You keep saying that as if four-year-olds can't manipulate adults."
Ethan almost laughed.
He could not believe the conversation.
"What did he do today?"
"I already told you."
"He spilled juice."
"After I warned him."
"That's it?"
"He knocked the cup over because he wouldn't sit still."
Noah whispered:
"I reached for my dinosaur."
Margaret pointed toward him.
"See? He was playing instead of eating."
Ethan crouched.
"Noah."
The boy looked at him.
"Did you spill it on purpose?"
"No."
"I know."
Margaret scoffed.
"You weren't here."
The sentence cut through him.
Ethan stood.
"No."
His voice changed.
"I wasn't."
For the first time, Margaret seemed to realize she had gone too far.
But only for a second.
Then she said:
"And I was."
Ethan stared at her.
"Every morning. Every bedtime. Every tantrum. Every nightmare."
Noah looked down.
Margaret continued.
"You have no idea what the last eleven months have been like."
Ethan nodded slowly.
"You're right."
Margaret seemed surprised.
"I don't."
He looked around the kitchen.
"Which is why you're going to tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Everything."
She laughed bitterly.
"Ethan, you just walked through the door."
"Exactly."
He pointed toward the tile floor.
"And that's the first thing I saw."
Margaret's mouth tightened.
"You are tired."
"No."
"You've traveled."
"Mom."
"You don't know the context."
"Then give me one where that is acceptable."
Margaret said nothing.
Ethan picked up Noah's plate.
He placed it on the table.
Then pulled out a chair.
"Sit."
Noah hesitated.
Not because he didn't want to.
Because he looked toward Margaret.