David watched his grandson write out his history homework. The little boy's brow was furrowed in concentration. He looked just like Snow when he did that, and David promised himself that he would tell Henry some time, some time when he could say it without choking up.
When he'd first promised to take care of Henry, it had been the most natural thing in the world, and he didn't regret it. He was beginning to see, though, the pitfalls of being a grandfather before being a dad. He'd had no opportunity to watch Emma grow up, to learn when to be strict and when to be easygoing. When he'd been David Nolan only, he'd known Henry as a nice kid, albeit one he was inexplicably drawn to. That was a world away from being responsible for taking care of him and even disciplining him if the situation demanded it.
Had he been too hard on the kid? After all, in many ways, they were still getting to know each other. Or had he been too easy? Should he have grounded him for the morning's disobedience? Maybe he'd been just right. David almost laughed out loud when he realized that his thoughts sounded like the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.
That was the key, really. In the story, Goldilocks always found one thing that was just the right size—one bed, one chair, and one bowl of porridge. As a grandfather, he had begun to realize that Henry would do the same thing. If he watched, his grandson would show him what worked and what didn't. It was just a matter of watching closely enough.
Once again, Charming missed his wife. She would have known how to raise Henry, when to be tough and when to let go. But she wasn't here, and he was determined to make her proud. He might not be perfect, but he would do his dead level best to help Henry become a good man—for Snow, and for Emma.
