"I'm the sheriff!" Emma protested. "You can't be a deputy, because I didn't make you deputy."
"You can't be the sheriff, you're four years old," David pointed out.
"I'm still the sheriff. I'm just smaller."
"Yeah," said Neal, "About three feet smaller. What are you going to do if somebody tries to commit a crime? Kick them in the shins?"
Emma glowered at him.
"My gun doesn't care how tall I am."
David shook his head in exasperation.
"You can't come. If something actually happens, you could get hurt."
"I won't!"
David sighed.
"Fine." He walked over to the table to retrieve Emma's hand gun, brought it back and handed it over.
Emma smiled triumphantly.
"Now try and shoot the wall."
Emma shrugged at the request and tried to lift the gun. She frowned. Adding another hand, she got the gun up. Then she tried to aim it at the wall. Her hands kept drifting downwards, the gun now too heavy for her to hold up easily. She tried resting her arms on the table to help support the gun, and then tried to pull the trigger. After few moments of fumbling she realised her hands were too small to both hold the gun and reach the trigger. David let her struggle for a little longer before plucking the gun from her hands.
"Neal is deputy, and you're staying home with Snow until this is over with," David sai with a tone of finality.
Neal grinned, and Emma gave him a death glare in return.