Your sons pov:
I softly knocked at the door of my daddy's music room before I heard him say "come in" and opened the door.
"Daddy?" I asked quietly.
"Yes hunny ?" he turned around and smiled at me.
"Can you please help me?" I asked helpless, feeling tears prickle in my eyes.
"Of course, what's wrong?" he asked kneeling down in front of me.
"I don't understand my homework. And if I don't have it tomorrow my teacher will be really mad at me." I cried. I didn't want to cry, boys don't cry, so I rubbed my eyes, wiping the tears away.
"Of course bud, come on" he chuckled and lifted me up, holding me in his arms als he walked out of the room. I layed my arms around his neck and laughed happily. We were talking and laughing when mummy came out of the kitchen, smiling at us.
"Where are you going?" She asked, kissing my cheek softly.
"Daddy's helping me with homework." Mummy looked at daddy, an amused look on her face before nodding her head.
"Alright. I'm making dinner soon"
"What will you cook?"
"Whatever you want" she smiled sweetly at me.
"PASTA!" I yelled and mummy and daddy laughed at me.
"Pasta it will be, okay. I'm gonna call you guys when it's ready" we nodded and she quickly kissed daddy on the lips and stroked my head before disappearing into the kitchen again. We walked up the stairs and into my room. I got out the things I needed and placed them onto my desk.
"Okay, show me what you need help with." he said and I opened my book and showed him the questions. He read them before he turned to me. He explained to me what to do and tried to answer all the questions with me. He turned to me and asked "do you know what to do now?"
I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head, looking down into my lap.
"It's so hard. I'm not clever enough for that"
"Hey, no don't say that. That's not true! Maybe you're not good at maths and that's honestly okay, but that doesn't mean you're not clever. You're good at other things."
"But I really wanna understand..." I sighed.
"Did you just quote one of my songs?" daddy chuckled and I grinned at him. We continued writing down the math tasks and I eventually got the hang out of it.
"What did you mean by saying I'm good at other things?" I asked after a while.
"I mean that maybe math isn't your best subject, but you're very clever at reading and writing. And I know you're also extremely talented in music. There aren't many 7 year olds who already play the guitar like you do!"
"But I will never be as good as you are."
"Don't say that. I know-" he was cut off by mummy yelling from downstairs "boys, food's ready!". I jumped out from my seat and daddy got up as well, following me down the stairs.
