No! You Can’t Hex A Four-Year-Old!

You know those mornings where you wake up to the smell of fresh coffee, sunlight streaming in through the window, and the love of your life curled up beside you in bed? Yeah…. This is not one of those mornings.

Instead, all I can hear is my eight old son screaming “Mom, I can’t find my cleats!”

Ella, meanwhile, my four year old daughter, is in the kitchen, half-dressed in mismatched pyjamas, aggressively dunking a cookie into her milk with the conviction of a child who knows no limits… much like her other mother.

Agatha lounges on the sofa, swirling her morning coffee like she has all the time in the world, completely unbothered by the domestic apocalypse unfolding around us.

I stare at her, somehow refraining from placing my hand on my hip.

“You could help, you know.”

“Oh, I could.” She takes a sip. “But this is wildly more entertaining.”

Nicki skids into the living room, his socks sliding across the hardwood. “Mom, I swear I left them by the door!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“You swore that last time… and they were in the fridge.”

Agatha hums. “Ah yes, the great cleat hunt of last Saturday. A true moment in history.”

“You are so not helpful,” I mutter, shoving cushions off the sofa in case his cleats have somehow ended up there… I mean with this kid, they could honestly be anywhere!

“Oh, but darling, I am,” she says, tilting her head. “I simply offer my assistance in… unconventional ways.”

Ella climbs onto Agatha’s lap, getting chocolate milk all over her pyjamas, and I wait for her to lose it. But instead, she smirks at me over Ella’s dark curls.

“This is karma for making me get up before noon.”

“This is parenthood, Agatha.” I kick aside a pile of toys, still no cleats in sight. “When did our weekends go from hotel suites and silk sheets to lost shoes and milk spills?”

“The moment you decided we should be responsible adults and become parents.”

“Oh, I decided? You were very involved in that process too you know.”

She lifts a single manicured brow. “As I recall, I was merely the catalyst of your bad decisions.”

Before I can respond, Nicki wails, “We’re gonna be late! Coach is gonna be sooo mad!”

“Maybe if you kept your stuff in one place, this wouldn’t happen,” I say, crouching to look under the sofa.

Agatha sighs dramatically, as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders.

“Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.” She flicks her fingers, and… Nicki’s cleats materialise mid-air, dropping directly onto my head.

I glare at her. “For fuc…. You knew where they were this whole time?”

She grins, absolutely shameless. “Of course. I found them in the bathtub last night. But watching you struggle is the highlight of my morning.”

“I really hate you sometimes.”

“And yet, you’re still madly in love with me,” she purrs, eyes twinkling, that smirk that does things to me plastered over her lips. 

Nicki grabs his cleats and bolts for the door, yelling, “Come on mom! We’re so late!”

I groan and grab my handbag. “I am in love with you, but I also think I might murder you in your sleep one day.”

Agatha stands, pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek, her voice low and teasing. “Mmm. Promise?”

I shove her toward the kitchen. “Go clean up your daughter.”

“Our daughter,” she corrects.

“Not when she’s that sticky, she’s not.”

Agatha laughs, and despite the chaos, the mess, and the sheer exhaustion that comes with our life, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Even if I am going to get an earful from the soccer coach.

***

I barely get the front door open before Nicki barrels through, his cleats still very much on, and leaving a fresh trail of mud across the hardwood floor.

“Nicki, cleats off!” I call after him, but it’s useless. He’s already halfway to the kitchen, probably raiding the fridge like a starving trash panda. Before I can properly groan about the mess, there’s a blur of sparkles and frilly tulle flying at me. Ella launches herself into my arms, clutching onto me like a baby koala, her tiny face pressing into my neck. And then… tears.

“Mommy, I don’t wanna go to Maddie’s birthday party!” she wails.

Shit.

Maddie’s birthday party, was that even on the calendar?

I glance up just in time to see Agatha coming down the stairs, her expression as amused as it is smug.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

I exhale through my nose, shifting Ella on my hip.

“No,” I lie. “I just… got distracted.”

Agatha flicks her fingers, and just like that, a perfectly wrapped present in a little party bag appears out of thin air.

“Good thing one of us actually keeps track of these things."

I roll my eyes, but I’m secretly relieved.

“Okay, Miss Omniscient. Why doesn’t Ella want to go to said party?”

Agatha frowns slightly, looking at Ella, who’s still sniffling into my shirt. “She wouldn’t say.”

I rub soothing circles on Ella’s back, kissing the top of her curly hair. 

“Hey, honeybee, what’s the matter? Why don’t you want to go?”

She hiccups, snuggling closer before mumbling, “Maddie’s mean to me.”

And just like that, I feel Agatha’s entire posture shift.

Gone is the relaxed, sarcastic witch who found amusement in my domestic failures. Instead she’s turned into a full on protective mom, meaning she’s sharp, dangerous, and entirely too willing to hex a four-year-old.

Agatha folds her arms, her voice deceptively light. 

“Oh? And what exactly has little Maddie been doing?”

I shoot her a warning look.

“Agatha.”

“What?” She tilts her head, feigning innocence. “I’m just curious.”

“I know that look,” I say, voice firm. “You are not casting a spell on a four-year-old.”

Her lips twitch, but there’s something deadly in her eyes.

“Technically, I wasn’t going to.”

“Agatha.”

She sighs dramatically, flipping her dark hair over one shoulder.

“Fine. No spells. But if she needs a mild scare….”

“No.”

“…a gentle lesson….”

“Agatha.”

She groans, tossing her hands up in defeat.

“Fiiiine. I suppose we’ll handle this the boring, mature way.”

I nod, satisfied. “I’ll talk to Maddie’s mom, and we’ll sort this out like adults.”

Ella lifts her head, her tear-streaked face looking between the two of us. “You promise she won’t be mean anymore?”

I smooth her hair back. “I promise I’ll talk to her, okay? And if you still don’t want to go, we don’t have to.”

She sniffs, considering.

“Can I have cake and then leave?”

Agatha grins, pressing a kiss to Ella’s forehead.

“Now that is a solid plan.”

I sigh, but I can’t help but smile. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

As soon as Ella wriggles out of my arms and runs into the living room, presumably to wipe her tear-streaked face on my sofa cushions, I turn toward the stairs.

“Nicki! Go upstairs and change! Clean clothes, and I mean actual clean, not just sniff-tested clean!”

A muffled, “Ugh, fiiine!” echoes from somewhere deep in the house.

I rub my temples, mentally preparing for yet another round of herding my children like wild animals, when I feel Agatha’s arms snake around my waist from behind.

“You know,” she murmurs, pressing herself against me, “watching you in full Mom Mode is oddly appealing.”

I snort, leaning back against her.

“Oh yeah? You mean when I’m sleep-deprived, covered in child-related fluids, and constantly five minutes away from a possible nervous breakdown?”

She hums, her lips ghosting the shell of my ear. “Mmm, precisely. It’s unusually attractive.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You have terrible taste.”

Agatha smirks against my skin. “Tell that to the incredibly sexy woman I married.”

I roll my eyes, turning in her arms so we’re face-to-face.

“You mean the incredibly exhausted woman you married.”

She grins, tapping my chin with the pink party bag. “Exhausted, yes. But still undeniably hot.”

I raise a brow, skeptical. “Even after yelling at our son about laundry and refereeing a pre-party meltdown?”

Agatha’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Especially after that.”

I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile creeping onto my face.

“You’re crazy.”

She leans in, her voice dropping to that dangerously smooth tone that always spells trouble.

“You love how crazy I am.”

Before I can argue… because, let’s face it, she’s right… Nicki thunders down the stairs, somehow managing to not be in clean clothes.

“Nicholas.” My voice is pure warning.

He pauses mid-stride, looks down at his still-muddy shorts, and sighs.

“Ugh! Fiiine! Changing again!”

He stomps back up the stairs, and Agatha laughs, pulling me closer.

“Admit it,” she teases, voice full of fondness. “You wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

I exhale, looking toward the living room where Ella is now humming to herself, seemingly over her crisis. Then toward the staircase where Nicki is loudly complaining from his bedroom about how unfair his life is; and finally, back to Agatha, who looks at me like I’m still the same person she fell for, even if I now come with a side of domestic insanity.

I shake my head, sighing dramatically. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Agatha grins. “Told you so.”

I swat her arm. “Shut up and grab Ella’s jacket.”

She smirks, stepping back. “Yes, Mommy.”

I groan. “Never call me that again”

But as I grab my keys and corral my family toward the door, I know Agatha’s right. It’s chaos. It’s exhausting, but deep down I love every second of it.

***

Agatha pulls the car up outside Maddie’s house, eyeing the aggressively pastel-coloured decorations with thinly veiled disgust. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel, then turns to me, her voice sickeningly casual.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to put a curse on that little brat?”

From the backseat, Nicki chimes in immediately.

“Mom’s right. Everyone at school knows Maddie is a total brat.”

I twist in my seat to give him a look. “Nicki.”

“What? It’s true.” He shrugs. “She’s, like, legendary for it in school.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“We do not call four-year-olds brats, and we definitely do not put curses on them.” Then, shooting a pointed look at Agatha, “Right?”

Agatha sighs dramatically, draping herself over the steering wheel like she’s being personally victimised.

“Fine. But if she happens to trip over her own feet later, or her tongue gets stuck to a popsicle, I claim no responsibility.”

I unclip Ella from her car seat, hoisting her onto my hip.

“You two stay in the car.”

“Gladly,” Agatha says. “The sheer amount of pink in that house is making my skin itch.”

I roll my eyes and start walking toward the house when…

“Y/N.”

I turn back to see Agatha, her smug smile firmly in place, dangling the pink birthday bag off her finger.

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Right. The present.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want to show up empty-handed. That might be—gasp—rude.”

I march back, snatch the bag from her hand, and give her the most insincere “Thank you” I can manage.

She smirks, eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re very welcome, darling.”

Muttering under my breath, I head inside, adjusting Ella on my hip as she immediately wriggles free to run off toward the bouncy castle in the back garden. I scan the room, looking for Maddie’s mom, and oh… there she is.

Platinum blonde extensions, fake boobs that look like they defy the laws of physics, and the kind of spray tan that would rival Donald Trump’s. She’s holding a large glass of white wine at 1 p.m. and laughing just a little too loudly at whatever the other moms are saying.

I take a deep breath and approach.

“Hi,” I start, my tone as friendly as I can muster. “I’m Ella’s mom.”

She flicks her gaze over me, taking in my shirt, jeans and sneakers, before her lips stretch into a perfectly practiced smile.

“Oh! Hi!” she drawls, drawing out the syllable like she’s already bored.

I clear my throat. “I just wanted to have a quick word about Maddie and Ella. Ella mentioned that Maddie has been… less than kind to her.”

Her smile freezes, just a flicker of annoyance passing through her perfectly botoxed face. “Oh, kids will be kids,” she says dismissively. “They’re four. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

I press my lips together, keeping my tone even. “Right. It’s just that Ella has been really upset about it, and I think it’s important to make sure—”

“Oh, honey.” She laughs, a high-pitched, rehearsed sound. “You’re one of those parents.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

She waves a manicured hand, already looking toward the other moms like she’s ready to be done with this conversation.

“The ones who get worked up over every little thing. If your daughter can’t handle a little playground drama, maybe she’s just… sensitive.”

My hands tighten around the party bag. I take a slow breath, reigning in my very unkind thoughts.

“I’m just asking that we encourage the kids to be kind to each other. That’s all.”

She takes a sip of her wine, completely unbothered.

“Mmm. Sure.”

I stare at her. She is not taking this seriously.

I can feel the irritation creeping up my spine. But before I can say anything else, I catch a glimpse through the window… Agatha, still in the car, watching me with a knowing smirk.

I take a slow, deep breath, trying one last time to reason with Maddie’s mom, but it’s like talking to a brick wall… one covered in fake tan and a superiority complex.

“Well,” I say, forcing a smile, “thanks for the chat.”

She barely acknowledges me, already turning back to her group, wine in hand, dismissing me like I was never there.

I clench my jaw and step away, calling out toward the backyard.

“Ella!”

A few seconds later, she comes bounding in, curls bouncing, her party dress slightly rumpled from whatever she’s been up to in the garden.

“Come on, babygirl,” I say, scooping her up into my arms. “We’re leaving. Let’s go get ice cream with Mommy and Nicki.”

Ella gasps, horrified. “But you said I could have cake!”I

hesitate. “I did, didn’t I?”

That’s when I see it.

The cake.

It’s an obnoxious shade of pink, layered with enough frosting to send a grown adult into a diabetic coma. It sits on a pristine white tablecloth, placed just so on the delicate little serving table. It looks expensive.

And suddenly, suddenly, I have an idea.

I know I shouldn’t.

I really shouldn’t.

But, you know what? Screw it.

With a flick of my fingers, my magic sparks to life, humming warm and familiar at my fingertips. The table leg trembles, creaks… then, with a sharp crack, it snaps clean in two.

The table collapses.

And the entire cake crashes to the floor in an explosion of frosting and pink shattered fondant.

A gasp ripples through the room. Maddie’s mom shrieks, her wine glass slipping from her hand.

I blink innocently, shifting Ella higher on my hip.

Ella looks up at me, her big blue eyes wide with delight. She leans in and whispers, “Mommy, did you do that?”

I kiss her forehead. “Do what, honey? I don’t know what you mean.”

And with that, I turn and walk out, leaving behind the absolute shit fit of a meltdown happening inside.

When I reach the car, Agatha’s already watching me with raised brows, arms lazily draped over the steering wheel. She takes in my smug expression, Ella’s satisfied grin, and the sounds of absolute chaos erupting behind me.

She smirks. “We’re off to get ice cream, huh?”

I nod, setting Ella in her car seat. “Yep.”

As I’m strapping her in, Ella, ever the traitor, pipes up.

“Mommy broke the table and made the cake go boom!”

I freeze.

Slowly, I look over my shoulder at Agatha.

She’s staring at me, expression unreadable. Then…A slow, wicked grin spreads across her face.

“Well, well, well,” she drawls, delight sparking in her blue eyes. “Look at you. Breaking the rules. Being a bad mom.”

I snap Ella’s seatbelt into place and straighten up, glaring at Agatha. “Don’t start.”

She’s grinning so smugly now, like a cat that just found the cream. “I knew you had it in you.”

I roll my eyes and climb into the passenger seat.

“Just drive."

Agatha starts the car, still obnoxiously pleased. “You know,” she muses, pulling away from the curb, “I’m almost disappointed I wasn’t the one to do it.”

I shake my head, but I can’t help the little smirk tugging at my lips. “I’d say you’re rubbing off on me, but honestly? That woman deserved it.”

Agatha grins, reaching over to squeeze my thigh.

“Attagirl.”

I shake my head, laughing as Ella giggles from the backseat.

Nicki, completely oblivious, pipes up. “Wait…what happened?”

“Nothing!” I say quickly, shooting a look at Ella.

She giggles again, whispering, “Mommy’s magic is sneaky.”

Agatha sighs dreamily. “I am so proud right now.”

I groan, leaning my head back against the seat. “We are so lucky these kids haven’t grown into their powers yet.”

Agatha smirks. “Yet.”

And with that mildly terrifying thought hanging in the air, we drive off in search of ice cream, leaving the wreckage of Maddie’s birthday party far, far behind.

***

The house is finally quiet.

Nicki and Ella are sprawled on opposite ends of the sofa, completely zonked out, the remnants of their earlier ice creams still visible in the slight stickiness on Ella’s hands and the faint chocolate smudge at the corner of Nicki’s mouth. The movie they were watching still plays on the TV, casting a soft glow over their peaceful, sleeping faces.

From my spot against the kitchen counter, I exhale slowly, taking in the rare moment of stillness.

Agatha slides up beside me, pressing a glass of red wine into my hand.

“For surviving another day in this madhouse.”

I clink her glass and take a grateful sip, letting the warmth spread through me.

She watches the kids for a moment, then smirks, tilting her head toward me. “So...The cake.”

I sigh, already knowing where this is going.

“Don’t.”

“Oh, but I must.” She grins, swirling her wine. “You, of all people. Breaking the rules. Embracing your dark side.” She waggles her fingers mockingly. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

I shoot her a dry look. “At least I didn’t hex a four-year-old. Which, let’s be honest, you totally would have.”

Agatha sips her wine, completely unrepentant. 

“And she would’ve deserved it.”

I shake my head, laughing softly. “You're unhinged.”

“But,” she leans in slightly, smirking, “You still married me.”

I look at her then, really look at her - the way the dim kitchen light catches the sharp angles of her face, the way her smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, amused and knowing.

She’s older now. Debatably wiser. A little less reckless, maybe, but every inch still her. Sharp, unpredictable, undeniably magnetic. The woman I fell in love with, the woman who still makes my heart stumble in my chest just by being here.

I move toward her, the warmth of the wine settling in my chest, but it’s not the drink making me feel lightheaded... it’s her.

Hooking my thumbs into the loops of her jeans, I tug her forward, closing the small distance between us. She lets me, her body falling into mine like she’s always belonged there.

Agatha smirks, tilting her chin up ever so slightly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Oh? Feeling frisky, are we?”

I roll my eyes, but my fingers tighten at her waist, holding her close. “Just taking advantage of a rare moment of silence.”

She hums, dragging her hands up my arms, settling them over my shoulders like she has all the time in the world.

“Hmm. And here I was thinking you were about to admit how irresistibly drawn you are to me.”

I scoff, but the corner of my mouth betrays me with the smallest smile.

“Don’t push it.”

She grins. “Or what?”

I don’t answer. I just kiss her.

It’s slow at first, our lips pressing, a familiar warmth sparking between us. But then she deepens it, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. I sigh against her mouth, hands sliding around her back, melding her to me like I can’t bear to let go.

She tastes like red wine and something distinctly her, and I know, I never stood a chance.

Agatha makes a quiet, satisfied noise, her fingers teasing at the hem of my shirt.

“You know,” she murmurs against my lips, “if we’re very quiet, we could sneak upstairs and…”

A loud, exaggerated groan comes from the couch and interrupts us.

We break apart just in time to see Nicki shifting under his blanket, his eyes still closed, but his face twisted in the universal look of an absolutely disgusted child.

“Ugh,” he mutters, half-asleep. “You guys are so gross when you do that .”

Agatha pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against mine, laughter bubbling up in her chest.

“You hear that? We’re gross.”

I sigh dramatically. “Guess that’s our cue to behave.”

She grins, pressing one last lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth before stepping back.

“For now.”

I roll my eyes, biting back a smile. “Come on. Let’s get these two up to bed before we scar them for life.”

Agatha sighs, stretching. “Fine. But I fully expect you to finish what you started later.”

I shake my head, amused.

“You’re incorrigible.”

She winks. “Stop complaining, you know you love it.”

I huff out a laugh, moving to scoop Ella into my arms while Agatha nudges Nicki back awake.

Yeah… I do love it … all of it … this crazy, chaotic life of ours, that I wouldn’t change for the world.