Abigail had been stretched thin lately, juggling everything on her own, and today was no exception. She had left for the day to run errands, leaving you alone with Jack.

The boy, usually full of energy, was having none of it today. After his bath, he refused to sit still, his hair a tangled mess of damp curls.

— “I don’t want to get my hair brushed!” Jack fussed, swatting at the brush as you tried to gently work through the knots. His frustration was palpable as he squirmed in your lap, his small hands pushing against yours.