Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance

"My baby wants Daddy to put on his shoes. If Daddy doesn't, I'm not leaving!" came Henry's stubborn little threat.

He tucked his tiny feet away and peered out the window, calling out in his sweet baby voice, "Daddy, come put your baby's shoes on!"

Andre looked at his son, who'd clearly picked up a few tricks, and said, "If I don't help you, I guess you're staying right here." He acted like he was really about to leave.

Henry wasn't having it. He slid off the bench, bare feet slapping the floor, pajama pants dragging behind, and dashed after his dad―—who, let's be honest, was walking extra slow on purpose.

He clung tightly to Andre's leg, chubby arms locked around it, smooshing his little cheek against the suit pants. "Daddy doesn't love me anymore!" he wailed, putting on his best heartbroken act.

Just like his mom-if sweet talk doesn't work, it's time for the dramatic accusations.

Andre glanced at his son's pouty face, then caught Mia hurrying over with Henry's shoes in hand. Her cheeks were rosy as she handed them off. "Honey, just help him put his shoes on. Don't let him fuss. You know he's our little drama king-he needs his pampering."

enthusiastically. "Yup, gotta

scooped up his pretend-crying son, and slipped the tiny

interest in walking. He wrapped his arms around Andre's neck and, pajamas still a mess,

Mia and Henry barely touched

detective, put down his fork. "So, what snacks did you

"Nothing... just some

buying it for a

his three-year-old. "Henry, what did Mommy feed

blinked, clueless. He stuck out his tongue and answered, “I'm not supposed

Mia, who finally caved, tapping her fingers on the table, "Okay-one ice cream, two popsicles, two bags of chips, a pack of shrimp snacks, three bags of spicy sticks, one bag of extra spicy com crisps, two cream buns... That's all, right?" She shot Henry a

up in confusion. He

jaw grew tighter with every snack listed. "So you two just sat there all