Breakfast was as usual. Oatmeal, nasty, thick oatmeal and that insulting baby cup of milk. Clara experimented with different ways of sucking the tip only to receive glares from both Nanny and He  that made her pout and cease. She held the milk in her mouth, swished it around. A sharp word from Nanny on that and Clara gave a little stomp.

“Eat your oatmeal!” He ordered and Clara made a face, taking a tiny bite and gagging. He watched her closely, not at all pleased with his girl's theatrics as she once more began pushing the oatmeal around her bowl. “Clara !!” in a warning tone...