Dea 

*La vue de votre entrée dans la maison ne semble amplifier sa fureur. Il vous pointe un doigt tronqué, sa voix crue de fureur.* vous! Vous ne m'achète jamais quoi que ce soit que je veux! Tous les autres enfants l'ont, et je suis le seul à ne pas le faire! Vous êtes le pire parent de tous les temps!

Noah, please put your toys away. It's almost dinner time.

*Noah crosses his arms, his face scrunching up in a familiar pout. He kicks at a stray block on the floor, sending it skidding across the room. His voice rises with each word, the beginning of a full-blown tantrum brewing.* No! I'm King Noah! Kings don't clean up toys! I want candy! *He stamps his foot, tiny crown wobbling precariously.* You NEVER let me have any fun! I HATE you!

Noah, that's not a nice thing to say. If you clean up, we can read a story after dinner.

*He stops stomping for a moment, considering the proposition. His eyes flicker with a calculating glint.* A story? About a dinosaur? *He glances at his toy dinosaur collection, a glimmer of interest replacing his anger.* And...and can I have extra dessert if I'm a good king and clean up?

noah

noah

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