I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 442 A grievous error

Dante, momentarily taken aback by the sudden, serious critique from someone so small, blinked. "I did," he confirmed, his tone matching her gravity.

The girl shook her head slowly, her curls bouncing. A look of deep pity crossed her features. "That’s the boring one," she said, not as an insult, but as a simple, tragic fact, like pointing out that it was raining.

Alina had to press her lips together to stop the laugh that bubbled up.

The girl then turned her enormous blue eyes on Alina. She tilted her head. "Did you want the boring one?"

Alina’s eyes went wide. "Oh, um... well..."

The girl didn’t wait for an answer. She leaned closer to Dante, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that was still perfectly audible. "My daddy says you’re s’posed to get the one with sprinkles for girls. That’s the rule." She nodded once, decisively, as if this were an unbreakable law of the universe.

Dante looked from the very serious little girl to the vanilla cone in his hand, then to Alina, whose face was now buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking silently. He fought to keep his expression neutral. "Is that so?" he asked the girl, his voice laced with amused respect. "I didn’t know that rule."

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed, her mission of public service apparently complete. She gave them both one last, somewhat disappointed look, a look that clearly said grown-ups know nothing, then turned and waddled determinedly back toward a picnic blanket, where a man was trying to unfold a stroller.

The moment she was out of earshot, Alina lost it. A peal of laughter escaped her, bright and unfiltered, as she leaned against Dante’s shoulder. "The boring one!" she gasped between giggles. "Oh, she was so disappointed in you!" 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Dante shook his head, a slow, deep chuckle rising in his chest. He looked at the offending vanilla ice cream with new eyes. "I have been thoroughly shamed by a preschooler," he stated, the amusement clear in his voice.

"And you broke the sprinkles rule!" Alina added, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "A grievous error."

He took a final, thoughtful bite of the "boring" ice cream, then tossed the last bit of cone to a hopeful sparrow. Turning back to Alina, he slid his arm more securely around her, his gaze softening from amusement to something warmer, more intimate. "Next time," he murmured, his voice a low promise that sent a fresh shiver down her spine, "I’ll know to get the one with sprinkles."

Meanwhile, Sable was in heaven. As Lucien pushed him on the swing, he soared higher with each gentle shove, his little hands clutching the chains, his head thrown back. The wind ruffled his dark hair, and a stream of pure, cheerful laughter spilled from him, light and bright as bells. He felt like he was floating, untethered from the earth.

"Hey, little one, can you push me too?"

The request, spoken in a clear, confident voice, made Lucien pause mid-push. He turned to see the same little girl with the blonde curls, now standing beside the empty swing next to Sable’s, looking at him expectantly.

Lucien was, for a moment, utterly taken aback. Little one? He drew himself up to his full, modest height, his brows knitting together in a frown. She was a tiny thing herself, still round-cheeked and small enough to be picked up with one hand. She was calling him little?

"Don’t call me little one," he stated, his voice very serious. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You are the little girl."

She didn’t seem offended. She just tilted her head, studying him with a funny, unblinking look, as if he were a puzzle. "I will call you little one," she declared, her tone leaving no room for argument, "because you’re the little one, little one." Having settled the matter of his name to her satisfaction, she promptly climbed onto the swing and sat, kicking her feet. "Now push me too."

Lucien stared at her back, a storm of childish indignation brewing on his usually placid face. He looked over at Sable, who had slowed to a gentle sway, watching the exchange with wide-eyed curiosity. With a resigned huff that spoke volumes of his dignity being sorely tested, Lucien stepped behind the girl’s swing. He gave her a push, not as enthusiastic as the ones he gave Sable, but firm and steady.

"Wheeeee!" she squealed instantly, her curls flying. It was a sound of unadulterated joy.

Against his will, something in Lucien’s serious expression softened. A tiny smile touched his lips. It wasn’t his usual slow, thoughtful, almost solemn smile. This one was different. It was a spark of pure, charmed reaction, quick and bright. His eyes, still narrowed in pretend annoyance, crinkled at the corners, and the smile transformed his whole face, making him look suddenly, disarmingly sweet.

From their bench, Dante watched. He had been observing the ice-cream drama, but now his attention was captured by his son. He saw the girl’s brazen address, Lucien’s affronted posture, and then... that smile.

It struck Dante, a quiet jolt of recognition.

Lucien’s smiles were rare and precious. They were usually small, deliberate things, like a curtain being drawn back just an inch to let in a sliver of light. They were serious smiles.

But this smile... this was different. It was a flash of unguarded, almost mischievous amusement, there and then gone, but in that instant, it didn’t just look like a smile. It looked like his smile. His twin brother’s smile.

The little girl’s squeals faded into giggles as the swing slowed. "Again, little one!" she commanded, not even looking back.

Lucien’s smile had vanished, replaced by his customary dignified expression, but there was no real irritation in it anymore.

"What happened?" Alina’s voice was soft, concerned. Her fingers brushed lightly over the back of his hand, where his knuckles were still pale from the tight fist he’d made.

The touch brought him back to the present, to the dappled shade and the sound of swinging chains and childish laughter. He looked down at her, at the worry in her warm hazel eyes.