Irene smiled. "It hurts."
"Then why are you carrying Tommy?" Sheryl asked as she put the glass of cranberry juice on the table. "Don't you know how heavy he is now? I guess you weren't hurt enough, huh?"
Still, she was sympathetic enough to take Tommy off Irene's arms.
"Carry him when you're better," Sheryl said as she carried Tommy downstairs, not forgetting to remind her, "And finish your juice."
Tommy pouted unhappily. "I hate you, Grandma."
Sheryl tapped his little nose. "Be a good boy. Your mommy's sick right now, but she'll play with you when she's better."
"You're lying. Mommy can carry me and she's smiling. She's not sick." Tommy started flailing his little feet. "Let me down."
Sheryl did so, and he promptly ran up to the couch and threw himself on it angrily.
"Be a good boy now," Sheryl coaxed. "How about I buy you another Transformers—"
"I don't wanna!"
Tommy snapped, refusing it despite his recently developed fondness for Transformers.
Unable to coax him whatever she did, Sheryl simply ignored him, since he would just pick himself up afterwards.
However, Tommy was still pouting when Isaac returned, and he threw himself at Isaac's arms when he saw him. "Daddy."
Isaac picked him up, asking, "What's wrong? Why are your eyes red?"
Tommy immediately started pouting again, his eyes puffy and welling with tears.
"He's upset because I didn't let Irene carry him," Sheryl said.
Tommy in turn nestled his face against Issac's neck and sobbed, "But Mommy really wanted to carry me."
Sheryl was speechless. "Who would want to carry you? You're so heavy."
Tommy merely clung tightly to Isaac's neck. "Daddy, take me upstairs. I want to see Mommy."
Isaac sat on the couch instead and told him, "Grandma didn't let Mommy carry you because Mommy is sick. How could you throw a fit because of that?"
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