She's All Mine

sixty

~Regina's POV~

"Good morning bebé." I say to Dylan. "Who did your hair? It looks nice."

"Munchkin. She wash my hair too."

"When did she wash your hair? You just woke up and got dressed."

"I threw up in the night time. I couldn't find you in your room. There was nobody in there." She whines. "So I go ta Munchkin's and she clean me up." I place her oatmeal in front of her. "I throwed up all over my bed. It smell lasagna. My bed smells tropical lasagna. My tummy was hurtin'. I ate too much like mommy said."

"Aw poor bebé. How do you feel now?"

"My tummy still hurts. I need a spoon, mamá." She grabs her belly. "Mamá." She groans. "I want mommy. My tummy hurt." I pick her up and walk to the room. "Mamá." She cries. "I wanna stay with you."

"Bebé I gotta go to work."

"What's wrong Dylan?"

"My tummy hurts?" Dylan whimpers.

"Emma will you stay with her?" I wasn't really asking.

"Yeah. What did you eat?"

"Lasagna." Dylan groans.

"Okay... Regina does she drink milk?"

"No."

"So she's only ever drank breastmilk?"

"Yeah and she stopped just before she turned four."

"Does she eat dairy products?"

"Not really."

"Dylan do you eat pizza or ice cream?"

"No mommy. They make my tummy hurt." Dylan groans.

"But you like cheese, don't you? I heard you ask for extra cheese on your lasagna."

"Yeah I like cheese."

"Dylan go to the bathroom."

"But I don't gotta go." She whines.

"You will soon and you should be prepared. You're lactose intolerant."

"Noooooo!" Dylan scream whines. "That What Mateó is. And and Henry too."

"Sorry sweetie but... you can't handle the lactose!" Emma teases. Dylan shimmies out my arms and walks to the door. "Where ya going Dylan?"

"Nowhere!" She clenches her stomach.

"Yeah ya are. You're going ta shit!"

"I not going to shit!!"

"Watch your mouth. Go to bathroom Dylan." Dylan walks away groaning. "If she alright by nine, I'll drop her off at school."

"Thank you."

"Why is she wearing a dress."

"She's in private school, like Mateó and that's her uniform." I say.

"Why can't she wear pants?"

"Because the school wants her to wear pants."

"Okay."

"What do thinking Emma? She better not show up to school in pants today."

"Nothing."

-two weeks later-

"Emma! What the hell?!" I yell. I slam the front door making her jump. "Why did Dylan's school call me saying that she showed up to today wearing shorts?"