By the time they reached home, Smore was no longer somnolent. He carried his little backpack and started on completing his first homework: an arts-and-craft project.
Arianne snuck up to him and cast a question, “What did the teacher teach you today, Son?”
Smore pouted in disdain. “Nothing! All she did was busy herself pleading those babies to just stop crying already—it’s just soooo annoying! And then she wanted me to play with them, too! Urgh, as if I wanna! Those babies should go home and go back to drinking their mommy’s milk!”
Arianne paused before replying, “Hey, hey, hey! Hold on a minute, young man. You grew up being breastfed too, you know? How can you look at your peers this way? It’s normal for young kids your age to be attached to their parents. Just because you’re different doesn’t mean you have the right to hate them for it, ok?”
Smore shot a side-eye leer at Arianne’s bosom and declared, “I don’t believe you. There’s no way you’ve got milk in there.”
First, Arianne was stupefied. Then, her blood broiled, and she leaped to her feet and dialed Mark’s numbers. “You! Come home, right now! This son of yours is driving me up the wall… He’s beyond me now!”
Smore did not look the slightest bit uneased. “Hmph? Calling for backup already? I’m not scared. Sorry you can’t handle the truth!”
Arianne took off her shoe and raised it in preparation for a good smack. Before she could do anything, though, Mary had stepped in and stropped her. “Madam! Young Master Aristotle is still young… He doesn’t know right or wrong yet; you ain’t supposed to take his words to heart! No, you can’t hit him! You can’t!”
Arianne’s blood was boiling so much, steam might as well be coming out of her ears. “Why are you so goddamned protective of him, Mary? If you don’t have the heart to discipline him when he needs it, one day, he will be our undoing! Just look at him right now! He’s openly dissing and looking down on other people, and now he’s sassing his own mother! You know what this means? It means this punk is due for a good spank!”
Mary quickly shot Smore a look. “Shoo, go play outside or something and stop ticking your mom off. Unless you want her to punch you in the face?”
Smore shrugged with a helpless expression. He packed his project and tools back into his backpack and headed to the yard.
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