- 15.
The next day, I got a call from the preschool.
My heart leaped with joy.
! assumed Matt had been bullied again.
I kicked open the office door, ready to unleash another tirade.
But instead, I saw Nathan, his face streaked with tears.
Me: …
“What happened?” I demanded.
A
The teacher, not daring to provoke me, clearly decided that I, the “super–mom,” was more dangerous than a herd of
millionaire toddlers.
“You should ask him yourself,” she said, gesturing vaguely.
Under my wicked stepmother death stare, the proud Matt finally relented.
“Robin Hood and Juliet didn’t get together. He got upset and cried.”
Me😕
The teacher explained, “Matt has been telling stories at school. It’s $9.99 for a monthly subscription, one episode a day.
She sighed. “Today, he went on strike and refused to continue the story. Nathan is demanding a refund.”
I remembered then. Last night, I hadn’t bothered to invent a new story and had just read them something from a rand- om horror novel to scare them.
The teacher stood in the corner, gazing at me with resentful eyes.
Okay, fine!
The heir to a great fortune had successfully transitioned into a professional storyteller.
Matt shot back at Nathan, “What, you think this is your dad’s company? People aren’t allowed to take a day off?”
The teacher closed her eyes in pain.
Wow, the kid had even learned how to be a smart–ass.
Nathan looked at me with pleading, teary eyes. “Aunty, can I come to your house to hear the stories too?”
Me: ?
