I only turned my back for two minutes. I swear. Long enough to toss a load of laundry in and forget—just briefly—that silence in this house usually means disaster.
When I came back into the kitchen, it took a second for my brain to process what I was seeing. My toddler, Miri, was literally standing on her big brother Kye’s back, reaching toward the top shelf of the fridge like it was some kind of Olympic event. Her chubby little fingers were clawing at a half-open box of gummy worms like her life depended on it.
Kye—six, blonde like his sister, and way too clever for his own good—was crouched on all fours, holding his breath like he knew one wobble could send them both crashing down. His face was bright red, either from the strain or the panic—or both.
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. It was like some primal parenting instinct kicked in and shut down all logical thought. I just froze. Watching.
And then Miri looked back at me. Mid-reach. Her baby curls clinging to her forehead, eyes wide with that mix of guilt and thrill that only a toddler caught in the act can manage.
She didn’t even try to explain. She just grinned.
Kye whispered, “Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” like he was diffusing a bomb instead of supporting a sugar-obsessed gremlin.
And I still… didn’t move.
Because something about the whole scene felt so fragile. Like if I raised my voice or ran toward them, the whole thing would collapse. Like I was watching some ridiculous ballet of sibling loyalty and desperate sugar-craving unfold before me—and if I interrupted it, I’d miss the truth of what this moment really was.
I still haven’t said a word.
I’m still standing here.
And Miri’s tiny hand is just inches away from the gummies.
Then—just as her fingertips brushed the plastic—Kye’s foot slipped.
Not a full fall, but enough for Miri to lose her balance and tumble backward, arms flailing. My heart leapt out of my chest, and I lunged. I caught her right before she hit the floor, both of us wobbling like a pair of circus clowns, my knee slamming into the tile hard enough to make me wince.
Kye collapsed onto his side, groaning. “I told her not to stand all the way up,” he muttered like a tiny old man.
I sat there for a moment on the cold kitchen floor, holding a giggling Miri in my arms, staring at the fridge like it had personally betrayed me.
Once I caught my breath, I looked at Kye. “Okay, buddy. What was the plan exactly?”