Look, listen to me, listen to me," Betty, a little over three years old, said, moving her arms up and down as she tried to explain to Mitch for the near millionth time why she had asked Uncle Sky for a cupcake, after he had told him no.

"Like, I do 'dis all 'de time and 'den I go and play with my toys and 'den it's okay," Betty said, trying to lessen her punishment.

"Okay, but I have to yell at you—" Mitch was cut of as Betty started to talk again, her hands on her hips.

"No, , Miwth, listen, listen, listen," Betty said as she made motions with his hands to tell Mitch to calm down.

"Okay, what?" Mitch sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face as he looked at their daughter, crossing his arms over his chest as Jerome just managed to walk into the room.

"Like, everything 'dey do at this house, you can do everything at Uncle Sky's house," The girl tried.

"Okay?" Mitch asked, not understanding how that was making any sense.

"Okay 'den what?" Betty replied, holding her hands up by her head.

"Then you're not listening to me." Mitch huffed.

" 'Den you're not listening to me."

"I asked you not to do something—" Mitch nearly groaned as Betty cut him off again.

"But Miwth, listen, listen to me, lookit, if I do something—If you get 'dat out — 'Dat blue 'ding off, 'dey're gonna break it," Betty said, obviously trying to chance the subject.

"Okay, but I'm asking—I'm letting you know—" And Betty was starting to get ready to go again. "That you cannot—" Mitch was speaking over Betty's cries of 'Miwth, listen, listen'. "You're not listening to me! Listen to me now."

"But lookit, lookit, listen to me—Listen to me now." Betty droned on.

"No. I said no cupcakes, and you tried to get cupcakes anyways and you tried to ask Uncle Sky. Didn't you?"

"Miwth, lookit, listen. If we do something—If we get cupcakes, then we can't even get them. You're gonna burn you're butt." Betty murmured, trying to get her point across.

"What's going to burn you're butt?" Mitch asked, before shaking his head and just talking on. "You and Papa don't listen!" He exclaimed, ignoring the shocked gasp from Jerome. "So, I have to give both of you guys pow-pows on your butt."

"But Miwth! But Aunt Poffy's gonna give me pow-pows in the butt." Betty said, and Mitch knew for a fact that that wasn't true.

"No, she's not."

"Yeah."

"No. You don't want me to spank Papa or you don't want me to spank you?" Mitch sighed. This was getting tiring.

"No." Betty muttered.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want anyone to spank me." Betty whined.

"Then I'll have to spank Papa!" Mitch groaned.

"But he's my Papa!" Betty whined, pouting.

"He's your Papa, but he doesn't listen." Mitch muttered, ignoring the half-muffled giggling from said man.

"But, Miwth, listen, honey, honey, lookit, look at 'dis. Right now, you can't do anything if you can't get anything out of 'de car." Betty argued. "You're gonna have to break everything down."

"I'm not breaking anything down. I'm just letting you know that—"

"Miwth—"

"That you cannot have cupcakes for dinner." Mitch said, getting louder than Betty easily.

"Miwth, Miwth, like, this 'ding never belonged to you and you can't get anything and anything," Betty said, and she demonstrated her crazy words by opening the lowest cabinets, and then shutting them.

"I'm done arguing with you." Mitch decided, sighing as he turned around, glaring at Jerome, because if Betty learned this from anybody, it was Jerome.

"I'm done arguing with you." Betty mimicked, putting her hands on her hips again.

"You need to listen to the things that I say because I'm the Daddy and I'm the adult." Mitch replied.

"Miwth, Miwth, listen, lookit, listen to me. All 'de time, lookit, this 'ding," Betty announced, as she walked past Mitch and over to the dining table, pulling on the table cloth experimentally. " 'Dis… 'Dis 'ding… And you can't—" The rest of what the three year old said was a garbled mess.

"I'm done arguing with you." Mitch had said this at least three times that day.

"Miwth, Miwth, I'm done arguing with /you/."Betty said, shaking her head, her hands on her hips once more.

Mitch scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand, before walking out of the room. He couldn't help the smile that came on his face when Jerome started to giggle and so did Betty.

AN: So more fluffy-ness. Is it bad to have a laughing fit about your own fics ?

Guest:Thank you. Have some more fluffy-ness

Isumondemons: Here you go