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You grabbed the red crayon that sat in the middle of the table to be shared throughout your other classmates.
Smiling, you messily scribbled red hair on top of the stick figure you drew of your mother, then switching over to color in your uncle Tony's suit with the same shade.
You put the red crayon back before grabbing the blue one to color in your uncle Steve's suit. But before the crayon even touched the paper, it was ripped out of your hand.
"Hey!" You yelled, grabbing the crayon back from the girl who stole it.
"Stop it, I had it first!" She whined, taking another crayon and scribbling over your family portrait.
Instead of acting like any other kindergartener who would cry on the spot, you acted out of rage. Raising your hand up, you slapped the girl's cheek before ripping up her own drawing.
Almost immediately–if not before you hit her–she screamed at the top of her lungs, crocodile tears streaming down her reddened cheek.
"Y/n Romanoff!" Your teacher yelled, rushing over to you and the crying girl.
You were in for it now.
___
Natasha carried you out of the school with your heady buried in her neck. You were sobbing as she already gave you the 'what the hell is wrong with you' glare.
"It wasn't my fault mommy!" You whine, choking on your cries as she placed you in the car seat.
Natasha rolled her eyes, quite fed up with you and your whining. It was never your fault, it was always your arm's fault or your toy's fault. It somehow grew a mind of its own.
"When we get home, you're going into time out." She said as calmly as possible.
"Nooo!" You screamed, kicking the back of the passenger seat, though it made no difference as no one was sitting in it. "I don't want timeout!"
"You should have thought of that before you hit another kid at school." Natasha told you as she began the drive home.
"She stole my crayons!"
"Боже мой." (My God) Natasha mumbled to herself. The amount of trouble you get in now must be preparing her for when you're a teenager. If that's the case, is there such thing as a refund?
"Mommy!" You scream. "She ruined my drawing too!"
"That's no excuse to hit someone, Y/n."
The rest of the drive home was silent, besides your crying, though Natasha has learned to tune it out. As she parked the car in the driveway, your screaming abruptly got louder.
Your mother was quick to unbuckle you from your car seat and carried you inside. She dealt with the kicks to her stomach, the slaps across her face and the hair pulling.
She dealt with them until you bit her.
"Goddamit, Y/n." Natasha scowled, pulling you away and placing you on the bottom step of the stairs. You instantly burst into tears, flailing your arms dramatically.
"Mama no!" You screamed as she began walking off. You were quick to run after her, holding onto her leg to stop her from going any further.
She sighed, picking you back up and taking you back to the bottom step. "I had to leave work early to get you from school, I think it's only fair that you sit here quietly for fifteen minutes. Yeah?"
You nodded, sniffling as your mother wiped your tears from your cheeks. "Good girl." She whispered, kissing your forehead.
___
Natasha came back to the stairs exactly fifteen minutes later. You were cuddled up into yourself on the small carpeted step, eyes closed with tear stains down your cheeks.
"Come here, big girl." Natasha groaned as she gently hoisted you up into her arms. You stirred, opening your eyes to see your mama's sweet and kind smile.
Natasha sat down on the couch with you on her lap. Your arms were wrapped around her neck and your legs draped across her lap.
She rocked you slightly, kissing your temple. "You wanna tell mommy why you hit that little girl?"
"Because she stole my crayon and ruined my drawing!" You whined, raising your voice.
"Детка, I need you to understand that even though she did something wrong, you can't hit her." Natasha told you, swaying you back and forth. "Two wrongs don't make a right."
"I know mama." You sigh. "I'm sorry."
She smiled at you, peppering your face with kisses as you giggled uncontrollably. That high pitch sound filling the room with happiness.
Natasha held you in her lap, rocking you slowly back and forth as she hummed one of your favorite lullabies. Your head was resting against her chest as her hand stroked your hair comfortingly.
With Natasha's steady heartbeat and the soft humming–you were sound asleep in seconds. Your chest rising and falling steadily as you fell into dreamland.
