"Forever?" Hemingway asked him. "But who's going to make spaghetti?" he asked him, as if that were the worst thing about it. And Charlie did look slightly concerned for a second, knowing that Papa's dinners were not up to the same standard.
Then he was off, and Hemingway dashed after him. "No! Run, mama, run!" he insisted, getting in between the pair of them.
"Stop or shoot you too, papa!" Charlie told him with some authority, and when papa wouldn't behave himself Charlie was true to his word. Hemingway dropped dramatically from the shot, and after a second Charlie toddled over to him just to check it wasn't really sore. "Is okay? Is playing sore?" he asked him, and Hemingway gave him a big grin and a nod. "Quick, get mama!"