Riley manages to finish her supper, as I knew she would, though she makes such a production choking it down, I almost want to send her to her room for being so overly dramatic. I’d never hear the end of it then, her screaming and crying—she’s still young enough to think temper tantrums work, and while I can ignore her like a champ, I don’t want to spoil what time I have with Derek. So I let her sigh and huff as Derek and I eat our cheesecake, and when she’s eaten enough of her dinner to satisfy me, I retrieve a third slice for her.
Of course, she only manages to eat half of it—her eyes are always bigger than her stomach. Then she pulls out her bin of ponies and plops it down on the table right in the middle of the half-empty dishes. “Ready to play?” she asks Derek.
He gapes at her a mome
