Dean's Life

Making Room

Dean's pov

"Katie, did you get all your toys picked up like I asked?" I questioned, with very little hope I'd get the answer I wanted, as I passed through the living room catching a glimpse of my daughter paying a helluva lot more attention to the tv than the task I assigned her. Met with silence in response, I repeated, "Katie?"

"Huh?" she absentmindedly acknowledged my presence, while simultaneously confirming my theory, never taking her eyes off the screen, apparently much more interested in what Sponge Bob Squarepants had to say than her father.

"Katherine, I asked you a question," I snapped harshly, ensuring my tone would garner her focus if she values her ability to sit down.

"Yeah sure, pizza sounds good for dinner, dad," she answered, clearly not listening to me at all, her eyes still glued to the tv.

"Katherine Rose, that's not what I asked! Now, is your room clean or not?"

"Yeah, I'm cleaning up like you asked, Daddy," she replied, ignoring my warning of middle naming her as she glanced at me briefly before unwisely returning her attention back to Mr. Squarepants.

Done playing second fiddle to the cousin of a dishrag, I stepped in front of the tv, blocking my daughter's view.

"Hey, I was..." my daughter smartly cut herself off, just now grasping hold of the situation, seeing the anger etched upon my face.

I reached blindly behind my back to shut the tv off, my eyes never leaving my daughter.

"Come here." I motioned her towards me.

She hesitantly took a step in my direction.

Quickly grabbing her arm, I pulled her close enough to spank her bottom.

"OW! Daddy, don't," she whined, pulling away from me to rub her butt.

"You know I don't like when I have to call you twice, missy, and that was four times!" I pointed my finger at her. "Next time, listen the first time I say your name."

"I did listen the first time, well maybe the second time, but I heard you and I was cleaning my toys," she argued. "You didn't have to shut off the tv and spank me."

"I know I didn't have to, I wanted to. Besides, that wasn't a spanking, it was a gentle warning. Would you like me to demonstrate the difference between the two, if you're unclear?"

"You're mean," my daughter pouted, trying to garner my sympathy.

"Try again," I dictated sternly, crossing my arms as I gave Katie a look she should surely recognize at this stage of the game.

"No sir," she pouted, still overdramatically rubbing the sting from my mild reminder. "That was not gentle by the way," she grumbled halfheartedly.

"And you're lucky I don't have time to adjust your attitude right now, so let's call it even. Amy and the boys will be here any minute."

"Whoop-de-do," my so-close-to-gettin'-a full-blown-over-the-knee-spanking-daughter mumbled under her breath.

"What was that?" I asked, giving her a chance to amend her response.

"I was just showing my excitement in having to share my room with a baby," she quipped, rolling her eyes.

I have no idea where she gets that sarcasm from. Must be genetic on her mom's side. I know it's not from me.

"He's not a baby, Katie, he's four. And look, we're all making sacrifices here to make this work. It's not just you. Okay?"

My daughter scoffed, "Yeah right."