Across The Hallway

CHAPTER 47: DINO REX

Two passed in a blur of toddler energy. At three, Christian was vocal, independent, and rarely still. Their late Saturday afternoons had settled into a steady routine—trading laptops for sneakers and heading to the neighborhood park.

Sunlight filtered through the trees over the bench where Jeffrey and Christine sat. She leaned against his shoulder, her hand in his as they watched Christian, dressed in a yellow T-shirt and denim shorts, running across the foam play area.

“Look at him,” Christine said softly. “He used to fit right in the crook of your arm, Jeff. Now he’s practically sprinting.”

“Keeping us on our toes,” Jeffrey said, resting his arm along the back of the bench. “I wouldn’t mind if time slowed down a bit.”

Across the playground, a boy Christian’s age walked out holding a plush green T-Rex. Christian locked onto it immediately. He marched straight up to the boy and grabbed the toy’s tail. “Dino! Mine!”

“No! Mine!” The boy pulled it back against his chest.

Christian tugged hard. The other boy held on. Frustrated, Christian let out a sharp grunt and slapped the boy’s arm.

The boy dropped the dinosaur and burst into tears.

Jeffrey and Christine moved together, stepping off the bench and heading straight into the play area.

Christine dropped to her knees beside her son. “Christian! No, sweetie.”

Jeffrey knelt beside the crying boy, picking up the dropped toy. “Hey, buddy, are you alright?” he asked, keeping his voice low and steady. “Did that surprise you? Here’s your dinosaur, nice and safe.”

The boy sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve as he took it back.

Christine held Christian by the hands, bringing him down to eye level. His bottom lip quivered. “Christian, look at Mommy,” she said, her tone firm. “We do not hit. Hitting hurts our friends. Hands are for hugging and helping, not for smacking.”

“I... I wanted the dino,” Christian whimpered, tears welling in his eyes.

“I know you wanted to play with it,” Christine said, wiping his cheek. “But you have to ask nicely or wait your turn. You made him sad.”

Jeffrey guided the boy and his mother over, placing a hand on Christine’s shoulder. “Christian,” Jeffrey said softly. “What do we say when we make a mistake and hurt someone?”

Christian looked from his father to the boy holding the T-Rex. He stepped forward, eyes down. “I... I’m sowry,” he murmured. “Sowry for smacking.”

The boy blinked away his tears, giving a short nod as he held the dinosaur out. “Play together?”

“Yeah! Play dino!”

Christine sighed, exchanging a brief, apologetic word with the boy’s mother before the two toddlers ran toward the sand pit.

Jeffrey offered Christine a hand, pulling her up and drawing her against his side. “Nice work, team.”

Christine kept her eyes on the sand pit as Christian handed over a plastic shovel. “Parenting a three-year-old is constant negotiation.”

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“You handled it well,” Jeffrey said, touching his lips to her temple as they stood watching him.

Footsteps thudded across the grass, and Christian ran back to the bench, out of breath. “Mommy! Daddy! Can I have cookies, please? The chocolate ones?”

Christine reached into her tote bag for the small bakery bag. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Christian held out both hands. “Two cookies, Mommy! Two!”

Christine paused, glancing at Jeffrey. “Two? Is one for each hand?”

“No!” Christian giggled, holding his hands out carefully. “One for me, and one for my dino friend!”

He turned and ran back to the sand pit before they could answer. They watched as he crouched beside the boy, holding out a cookie. “Here! Cookie for you!”

The other boy took it with a wide grin. “Thank you!”

“Welcome! Eat dino cookie!” Christian took a large bite of his own, sitting in the sand beside him.

Jeffrey wrapped an arm around Christine, pulling her close. “Look at that. Ten minutes ago he was fighting over a toy, and now he’s sharing his snack.”

“He has a good heart,” Christine said, lacing her fingers through his. “Like his father.”

“He gets his sweetness from you, Chris. Always.”

As dusk fell over the park, streetlamps flickered on. “Time to head home, sweetie,” Christine said, brushing sand from Christian’s knees while Jeffrey picked up the bag.

“Hungry, Mommy! Want bread!” Christian rubbed his stomach with a heavy sigh.

“Alright, little guy,” Jeffrey said, scooping him onto his hip. “Let’s stop by the mall next door first.”

A few minutes later, they walked through the bright concourse toward the bakery, Christian swinging his hands between them. He stopped abruptly in front of a toy store window. Inside, resting on a display pedestal, was a large, bright green plush T-Rex.

“DINO!” Christian gasped.

He slipped his hand free and bolted into the store, stopping right at the pedestal and jumping on his tiptoes. “Mommy! Daddy! Buy green T-Rex! I want it! Buy it now!”

Jeffrey and Christine followed him inside.

“Christian,” Christine said, kneeling beside him and gently guiding his arms down. “We don’t demand things like that. Use your quiet voice.”

“But Mommy, look! It’s the dino!” He pointed up at the plush toy. “My green T-Rex! Buy it, Daddy, please!”

Jeffrey looked at his son’s desperate expression, then at the toy, his hand reaching instinctively toward his back pocket for his wallet.

Christine caught the movement and shot him a sharp look, her eyebrow raised.

Jeffrey cleared his throat, pulling his hand back as he knelt beside Christian. “Christian,” he said, keeping his tone calm. “Daddy is happy to get you a toy, but yelling doesn’t work. What do we do at home?”

Christian looked at Jeffrey, then at Christine. He took a small step closer to her, resting his hands on her knee. “I’m sowry for shouting,” he murmured, before looking back at Jeffrey. “Daddy... can we please buy the green dino?”

Jeffrey looked at Christine with a slight smile. “He asked politely. And he apologized for earlier.”

Christine sighed, running a hand through Christian’s hair. “Alright. But only because you shared your cookies today.”

“Yay! Green T-Rex!” Christian clapped quietly as Jeffrey reached up, lifted the dinosaur from the pedestal, and handed it to him. Christian buried his face against the green fur.

Jeffrey stood, wrapping an arm around Christine’s waist as they walked toward the register. “You’re a softie, Jeffrey,” she murmured.

“I’m a negotiator, Chris,” Jeffrey replied quietly, kissing her hair. “He met the behavioral conditions. The transaction was justified.”

In the car, the backseat was quiet except for the rustle of plush fur and Christian’s quiet chatter. Christine turned in her seat to look back at him. He was buckled in, holding the T-Rex tightly against his chest.

“Are you enjoying your new friend, sweetheart?” she asked.

Christian held the dinosaur forward as far as his harness allowed. “Mommy, him got a name now!”

“What did you name him?”

Christian patted the toy’s snout. “Rex! His name is Rex!”

Jeffrey glanced in the rearview mirror, a subtle smile touching his mouth. “Rex. Direct, strong, straight to the point. Good choice, son.”

“Dino Rex!” Christian giggled, pressing the toy against his cheek. “Rex is my best friend. Him sleep with me tonight, Daddy?”

“As long as Rex doesn’t take up the whole bed,” Jeffrey said, shifting as they stopped at a red light. He reached across the console to take Christine’s hand.

She squeezed his fingers, watching their son tell Rex about the sand pit, the cookies, and the boy at the park. “Looks like Rex is officially part of the family.”

Jeffrey lifted her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles as the streetlights swept through the car. “Just another member of the crew.”

By the time they reached the condo parking garage, Christian was asleep, his cheek resting against the dinosaur’s shoulder. Jeffrey unbuckled him, scooping both his son and the oversized T-Rex into his arms, while Christine gathered the bags.

They walked up to the apartment together in the quiet night, the door closing softly behind them.