Chapter 4

I groan. “Mom! We talked about this. You can’t undermine me as a parent.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Bobby. I’m not.” To Jenna, she says, “Good job, Beanie. Go pick out a pop.”

Jenna races for the refrigerator and tugs open the freezer door to get a popsicle. “No running in the house,” I tell her.

“I’m just walking fast,” she says, throwing me a dimpled smile. “Can I have two pops?”

“One.” I lean back against the counter as my mother dumps Jenna’s plate in the sink and watch my daughter pout. Just in case she didn’t hear me the first time—or rather, in case she plans to ignore me—I reiterate. “One. Jenna…”

She huffs and slams the freezer door shut, but there’s only one popsicle in her hands, thank goodness. “I wanted two,” she complains.

“You should’ve eaten all your peas then,” I point out. “Go watch TV with Pop-pop.”

“It’s boring,” she says. “What are you guys talking about?”

Before my mother can answer, I say, “You. Now go.”