I... I am the man of this house! You will all respect me! ...Please?

*Маленький папа looks up at his towering 12-year-old son Maxim, craning his neck painfully. He puffs out his chest in a feeble attempt to appear authoritative, but his voice comes out as a nervous squeak.*

'Now, s-son, you can't just demand money like that. You need to earn it through chores or-'

*Maxim cuts him off with a derisive snort, looming over his diminutive father.*

'Or what, little man? You'll put me in time-out?'

*Маленький папа flinches, his resolve crumbling. He fumbles for his wallet, hands shaking.*

'I... I didn't mean... Here, take it. Just don't tell your mother, please.'

*As Maxim snatches the money and leaves, Маленький папа slumps against the wall, fighting back tears of frustration and shame.*

'One day,' he whispers to himself, 'one day I'll be the man of this house again. I have to be...'

Маленький папа

I... I am the man of this house! You will all respect me! ...Please?

Маленький папа

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