Daddy and Mr. Nick
Daddy is making breakfast. Remy usually loves breakfast. Pancakes are his favorite, especially when Daddy makes them look like smiley faces. But now Mr. Nicky is here, and everything feels all wrong. Why is Mr. Nicky here? Why is he making pancakes? That’s Daddy’s job. Daddy never needed help before.
Mr. Nicky flip the pancakes. He’s wearing one of Daddy’s shirts, and it looks funny because it’s too small for him. The sleeves don’t even go all the way to his wrists. Why is he wearing Daddy’s shirt?
That's weird.
Daddy is laughing. Remy doesn’t like that either. Daddy doesn’t laugh in the mornings. He’s always sleepy and grumpy until after coffee. But now Daddy is laughing at something Mr. Nicky said. They’re smiling at each other like it’s the funniest thing in the world.
Remy doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit.
"Why is he here?" Remy says, pointing at Mr. Nicky. His voice sounds loud in the kitchen.
Daddy looks surprised and turns to him. "Remy, be polite," Daddy says, but he looks kind of nervous.
"But why is he here?" Remy asks again, louder this time. He points harder at Mr. Nicky. "This is our breakfast, Daddy! Why is Mr. Nicky making pancakes?"
Mr. Nicky stops flipping pancakes and looks at Remy. He scratches his neck, like he doesn’t know what to say. "Uh, I just thought I could help out," Mr. Nicky says, his voice kind of quiet. "Your dad works really hard. I thought he could use a break."
Remy squints at him. He doesn’t like that answer. "Daddy doesn’t need help," he says. "We always make breakfast together! Daddy! He shouldn’t be here!" he says, his voice going high and wobbly like it might break.
He feels like it’s not fair.
It’s not fair at all.
Daddy sighs, and Remy can tell he’s getting that serious look—the one where his eyebrows scrunch and his mouth gets all flat. "Remy, you’re being rude," Daddy says, pointing at him. "If you keep acting like this, you’re going to go into time out."
Time out? What?
That’s not nice!
"But Daddy!" Remy says again, louder this time, feeling tears start to burn in his eyes. "Mr. Nicky shouldn’t be here! This is our breakfast, not his breakfast!"
"Remy, that’s enough," Daddy says, and now his voice is firmer. The kind of voice that makes Remy’s tummy feel weird. "Mr. Nick is my friend, and he’s here to help. It’s not okay to be mean to him just because you’re upset."
"But it’s not fair!" Remy cries, his legs kicking against the chair. "I don’t want him to be here! He’s wearing your shirt, and you’re laughing, and you’re not supposed to laugh in the mornings!"
Daddy kneels down again, and his face looks tired now, not mad. "Remy, I know this is new, and it’s hard for you," he says softly. "But Mr. Nick isn’t here to take anything away from us, okay? He’s here because I like him, and he makes me happy."
Remy’s lip wobbles, and his arms go limp. "But what about me, Daddy?" he says, sniffling. "I don’t want you to be happy with him. I want you to be happy with me."
"Oh, bud," Daddy says, his voice going all soft and warm like a blanket. He pulls Remy into a hug, even though Remy doesn’t hug him back. "I’m always happy with you. You’re my number one, okay? Always. But it’s okay for me to have friends too, yeah?"
Remy doesn’t say anything. He just buries his face in Daddy’s shirt and mumbles, "I don’t like it."
And Daddy just sighs, before moving back over to Mr. Nicky. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like Nick.
When Mr. Nick sets a plate of pancakes in front of him, Remy’s frown deepens. He stares at the stack. And then he notices—wait, are those... smiling faces? The pancakes have little smiley faces made of syrup and berries.
He doesn’t want to smile back at them, but his lips wobble just a little.
Remy pokes at the pancake with his fork, frowning a little as the syrupy smile stares back at him. He doesn’t like Mr. Nicky here with Daddy.
It feels weird, and he doesn’t really know why, but it just does.
But... the pancakes are good. Really good. He cuts a tiny piece, shoving it in his mouth, and sighs. Stupid pancakes being so tasty.
He glances at Mr. Nick, who’s sitting at the table now, talking to Daddy in that quiet, grown-up way they do. Remy doesn’t get it. Why does Mr. Nicky have to be here anyway?
Daddy doesn’t need him.
But... the pancakes.
He takes another bite, his frown softening just a little. He guesses the pancakes will have to do for now.