literature

The Littlest Winchester - Sass Master

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Literature Text

            Dean’s daughter isn’t mouthy. Not usually. But there are times when she has no verbal filter. Sometimes it’s cute, and other times she’s walking a fine line. So today when the four-year-old gives him an eye roll to his ‘because I said so’ response, Dean braces himself to deal with a potential problem.

            “What was that for?”

            “What?”

            “The eye roll. Are you giving me an attitude?”

            “Bitch, I might be.” She accompanies the phrase with a sassy finger wave.

            Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to hold back laughter. A laugh would only encourage the behavior, and as cute as it is right now, it might be problematic in the future if he lets it go unchecked.

            “Sweetheart, you need to cut that tone and go do what I told you to do.”

            “Whatever.” The toddler rolls her eyes again but goes.

            When she’s out of the room, Dean turns to Sam. “What am I supposed to do about that?”

            “Her attitude?” Sam shrugs. “I don’t know. Don’t let her get away with it? It’s actually kind of cute, I thought.”

            “For now, maybe.”

            “Maybe it’s not completely under her control.”

            “Whaddya mean?”

            “Her mother was pretty sassy, or don’t you remember?”

            “How could I not? She drove me crazy and made my life miserable with that attitude of hers.”

            “But you liked it.”

            “That I did.”

*    *    *    *    * 

            “I give up. I’m done. Not gonna deal with this anymore.” The pregnant woman tosses the hoodie aside and rubs her temples in frustration.

            “What’s the matter?” Dean comes over, concerned.

            “I have tried three times to fold that damn hoodie. I can’t take it anymore.”

            Dean snorts out a laugh.

            “It’s not funny.” The woman glares at him.

            “I know, it’s just . . . a hoodie.” He forces himself to stop laughing.

            “I can’t do anything anymore. Everything I attempt to accomplish is harder than it used to be, I’m sore all the time, I have no patience for anything, I’m always snapping at you and Sam . . .”

            Dean comes up behind the woman and wraps his arms around her, one hand resting on her stomach.

            “Two more months, babe, that’s it.” He presses a kiss to her neck. “Can you make it two more months?”

            She sighs. “I can try.”

            “That’s my girl. Now, why don’t you go lie down for a bit and let me fold the laundry?”

            “Because you never do it right. I can get it, Dean.”

            At this moment, the baby inside the woman kicks against Dean’s hand, making her gasp quietly.

            “See?” Dean rubs the spot, hoping to feel another kick. “Even our kid thinks you should relax for a while. Let me take care of the clothes. It’ll be fine.

            “Whatever.

            “Did you just say ‘whatever’ to me?”

            “Yes I did. What are you gonna do about it?”

            “Nothing. Pregnant or not, you can still kick my ass.”

            “Damn straight I can.”

*    *    *    *    * 

            The next time Dean sees his daughter, she’s dressed in a gaudy, sparkly evening-wear-style play dress, a hot pink feather boa, and incredibly oversized plastic sunglasses. She’s also strutting.

            “Are you a diva now?” He asks.

            “Like, I have totally always been a diva.” She speaks nasally and gives a stylized flip of her boa.

            “A valley girl diva by the sound of it.”

            “Whatehva.” She flips her hair. “Like, ya know?”

            “You’re not even making sense anymore.” Dean furrows his eyebrows but smiles, amused.

            The toddler huffs and plants her hands on her hips. “Like, I can’t even.”

            “But, like, what if you can even?”

            “Don’t talk like that, Daddy. You sound like an idjit.”

            “And you don’t?”

            “No.”

            “Well okay then.”

            Taking off the glasses, the little girl comes over and looks up at her father, tugging at his pant leg.

            “Daddy, am I sassy?” She asks.

            Looking down at his daughter, Dean scoops her up. “Yes, you are. You know who else was sassy?”

            She shakes her head.

            “Your mom.” He brushes loose hair out of her face.

            “Oh. That’s good.”

            “Yeah. I’m guessing you got it from her because I am not sassy.”

            “Yes you are!” She laughs.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “You are sassy, Daddy!”

            “Even if that were true, I wouldn’t have anything on you. You, young lady, are a sass master.

            “Damn straight!” The four-year-old crosses her arms proudly and beams.

            “Know what else you are?”

            “What?”

            “Huggable.” Quickly, Dean wraps her in a too-tight hug.

            “Daddy, stop it!” She laughs. “You’re squishing me!”

            “Yes I am. I do this because I love you.”

            “Lemme go!”

            “Will you quit sassing me?”

            “Yes!”

            “Do you promise?”

            “Yes!”

            Dean releases the four-year-old from his grasp and sets her on the floor. She immediately orders him to get down on his knees in front of her. After he does this, she sticks her tongue out at him. Of course, Dean grabs it, making the toddler squirm.

            “Now you’ve done it.”

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theawsomecake's avatar
So cute 💛💜💚💙