Brooke defensively folded her arms across her chest. “My twins have established a very clear boundary. They simply do not feel emotionally secure when Owen and Lucy are in their immediate space.”
Her precious twins, Braxton and Brinley, were eight years old.
Owen looked up at me, his eyes wide and uncertain. “Dad, what did we do?”
Before I could form a reassuring syllable, Brooke interjected. “You can be a little… intense, Owen.”
My son blinked, bewildered. “I just said hi to them.”
Brooke nodded solemnly, validating his confession. “Exactly. Braxton felt pressured to respond. It was a lot of forced interaction.”
Then, small, quiet Lucy chimed in. “What did I do, Aunt Brooke?”
Brooke hesitated, her eyes darting away for a fraction of a second. “You ask an excessive amount of questions, sweetie.”
Lucy looked distressed, clutching her handmade card tighter against her chest. “I only asked why your dog is riding in a baby stroller.”
