His Little Cupcake [age regression]

Sick Day

[Word count: 1513 words]

Ethan's POV 

"Daddy, want ice cream," Mallow demands for the fifth time in an hour. 

"Baby, you're sick. You need soup, not ice cream," I reply, rubbing her forehead. 

She recently caught cold and has been whining and refusing to listen to me since. 

"Ice cream make me feel better, daddy," she repeats and pouts. 

"We can have lots of ice cream after you're not sick, sweetie, let daddy get some soup for you now," I answer and pull her blanket up, nicely tucking her in. 

"Nu. Me no like yucky soup," she whines, shaking her head. 

"Don't do that, your head will hurt," I tell her, holding her little head still. "Soup will make you feel good, little one."

"Nuuu! No soup!" she yells which throws her into a coughing fit. 

"Watch it before you are bent over," I warn but smile sadly at her state. 

"Sholly, daddy, cans we cuddle?" she asks between coughs and shuffles around on her bed to make room for me. 

"Of course, cupcake," I say and kiss her forehead before lying down beside her. 

She puts her head on my chest and wraps my arms around her, smiling softly. 

"Dada, mik," she says, sucking on her thumb. 

"How old are you, little one? Hold fingers up for daddy," I order, knowing she was regressing further. 

She stares confused at her fingers and keeps sucking on her thumb. "Me smol," she mumbles. 

I pet her head and take her thumb out of her mouth, causing her to cry out loud but she quickly stops and sniffs when I put her pacifier in her mouth. 

"Mik," she repeats and I make sure to securely put some pillows and stuffies around her so she doesn't fall before going to the kitchen. 

I start warming some milk before looking for her bottle but my search is interrupted by a loud thud followed by some crying. 

Oh no, I knew I shouldn't have left her there alone, I think to myself and sigh, rushing upstairs. 

I see Mallow lying down on the floor and crying while rubbing her head furiously. 

I immediately pick her up and kiss her head, rubbing her back to calm her down.

"Did my little baby get hurt?" I ask, rocking her gently in my arms. 

"Yesh, it hurt, dada," she sniffs, hiding in my shoulder. 

"Daddy is sorry he left you all alone, sweetheart," I say, feeling my guilt creep up. 

"Me stay wif dada, no alones," she mumbles and sucks on her thumb again. 

"Would you like to color daddy a pretty drawing while he warms up milk, micetta?" I offer, patting her head before grabbing her stuffie. 

She nods and relaxes some more, tapping on my shoulder. 

"What is it, sweetie?" I question and hand her stuffie to her. 

"Me a big girl, no need stuffie," she tells me and smiles wide. 

"Of course you're a big girl. Such a big girl," I patronize, kissing her forehead. 

"Yesh, me is," she agrees and giggles. 

"Let's feed this big girl some milk, then," I say before walking to the kitchen again.