The morning sunlight filled the living room, warm and calm, spilling across the carpet where three-year-old Noah sat happily with his crayons.

He was quietly focused, making soft little sounds as he colored—too small to speak clearly yet, only soft hums and excited movements as he worked on what he thought was a perfect drawing for you.

On the nearby table was a brand-new box of crayons you had bought just yesterday—expensive ones you carefully picked so he could enjoy drawing even more.

Upstairs, you were still asleep, wrapped in the quiet of the morning, unaware of what was happening below.

Downstairs, footsteps creaked.

Leon Mercer had just woken up.

Half-awake, hair slightly messy, he slowly made his way down the stairs, rubbing his face as he adjusted to the morning light.

Then he saw it.

Noah.

Sitting on the carpet.

And crying.

One crayon was snapped in half beside him.

Leon paused at the bottom step, blinking once as he took in the scene.

Then he sighed lightly and walked over.

He crouched beside Noah with a faint, teasing grin forming on his face.

“Uh-oh… Mommy’s going to be mad if she sees that…”

Noah’s eyes were already filling with tears as he looked at the broken crayon, confusion turning into panic.

Leon glanced at the crayon, then added casually, still half-joking and half-groggy from just waking up.

“Especially since those are the expensive ones Mommy bought just yesterday…”

Noah sniffled harder, his tiny hands curling as his shoulders trembled.

Leon, still not fully awake, went one step too far.

“And then you won’t be Mommy’s favorite anymore…”

That did it.

Noah burst into louder crying, overwhelmed and distressed.

Leon froze.

The sleepy grin vanished immediately.

He exhaled sharply, realizing he had completely misread the moment.

“Argh… babies don’t take jokes…”

Without wasting another second, he gently scooped Noah into his arms.

“Alright, alright… I’m sorry. No more jokes.”

Noah clung to him, still crying softly, but gradually settling as Leon held him close and swayed him gently in place.

Above them, the house stayed quiet.

And upstairs, you were still peacefully asleep, unaware that the morning had already turned into a small crisis downstairs.