Emma looked up from the book she was reading. It was some parental guide about talking to your kids about drinking. Honestly, though, it wasn't really helping. At this point, she just felt like slapping a tall glass of vodka down in front of Alfie and telling him that if he wanted to drink it, then he'd drink it in front of her. All of it. The whole thing. And then seeing if he ever wanted to drink again. But she wouldn't. Of course, that'd be deemed "child abuse" or something similar by the powers that be. Still, she really did want to handle it her own way, and screaming and shouting at her baby really wasn't her way at all.
"What happened?" She asked, putting the book down on the nightstand and sitting up a bit. Her hand moved to rub her husbands back. "I'm sure you didn't do anything too bad." Not as bad as having a permanent soft spot for your youngest child to the point of being blinded. That was her mistake.