Timeout Ultimatum

Tom squared his shoulders, the universal stance of authority that transcended age and size. Mitchell, a behemoth among toddlers, stared back with eyes that simultaneously suggested innocence and impending chaos.

“Mitchell,” Tom began, his voice a carefully modulated blend of firmness and patience, “we need to talk about what happened during playtime.”

The oversized toddler shifted, and Tom caught a whiff of something distinctly… unpleasant. Mitchell’s pamper sagged with what could only be described as a hot load of pure toddler mayhem. But Tom wasn’t about to let a little… situation derail his disciplinary mission.

“You were too loud,” Tom continued, maintaining eye contact. “Too disruptive. When I say ‘inside voices,’ I mean inside voices.”

Mitchell’s response was a gurgle that seemed to bubble up from the depths of his pamper-based predicament. The hot load shifted. Tom’s resolve remained unbroken.

“No playground for a week,” Tom declared. The sentence hung in the air, heavy with consequence.

Mitchell blinked. The hot load in his pamper seemed to protest silently.

Tom stood his ground. Daycare discipline was not for the faint of heart.