"Goodbye, teacher."
Three-year-old Andrew, wearing a small yellow backpack, stepped out of the kindergarten gate and immediately saw his parents waiting.
"Mami~"
The little boy toddled over on his short legs, about to throw himself into his sweet-smelling mother's arms.
But at that moment, Alex warned him, narrowing his eyes with authority.
"Andrew, walk. No running."
The little boy pursed his lips, turned back, and looked at his mother with an aggrieved expression.
"Mami, Daddy is so scary. I must not be his real son. Mami, take me to find my real dad."
He deliberately dragged out his words, pretending to sob as if acting out a tragic scene from a TV drama.
Emma pressed her forehead and could not help laughing. She secretly wondered whether this little rascal had been secretly watching Grandma's dramas.
She bent down, gently pinched his chubby cheeks, and said softly.
"Sweetheart, saying that will make your dad sad."
