Candy, Consequences, and a Very Public Lesson
Not crowded, but busy enough that there was a constant hum of voices, footsteps, and distant music echoing through the halls. Oswald walked through it all with his usual composed posture, one hand holding a small shopping bag… and the other firmly holding onto his son’s hand.
The kid—Oliver—was looking everywhere.
Everything caught his attention.
“Papa, look!”
“Papa, what’s that?”
“Papa—!”
“Yes, Oliver,” Oswald replied calmly each time, though there was a faint tiredness in his voice. They had already gone through three stores, and he still had more to do.
He just wanted to finish and go home.
Oswald felt the sudden halt and looked down slightly.
But Oliver wasn’t looking at him.
Oswald followed his gaze.
Bright colors. Glass jars filled with sweets. Chocolates, gummies, lollipops—everything a child could possibly want.
Oswald already knew where this was going.
Oliver turned to him immediately. “But I didn’t even ask yet!”
Oliver grabbed his hand tighter, tugging slightly.
“Papa, can I get some candy?”
Oswald didn’t even break his stride.
“And I want to sleep, but I have things to do. So neither of us is getting what we want.”
Oliver stopped walking again.
This time, he let go of Oswald’s hand.
Oliver’s little face scrunched up in frustration.
Oswald’s expression didn’t change.
“Lower your voice.”
Oliver stomped his foot.
“I WANT CANDY!”
Oswald’s ear twitched slightly.
But Oliver was already in motion.
He dropped to the floor dramatically.
“I WANT CANDY! I WANT CANDY! I WANT CANDY!”
Kicking feet. Flailing arms. Loud cries echoing through the mall.
People slowed down to look.
Oswald looked down at his son.
His face was completely neutral.
Without a word, he turned, walked a few steps to the side, grabbed a chair from a nearby café, and sat down.
In the middle of the chaos.
He crossed one leg over the other, pulled out his phone, and started scrolling.
Oliver continued screaming.
A couple passing by stopped.
“Oh, poor thing,” one of them said, approaching Oliver. “Maybe he just needs—”
“He’s fine,” Oswald said calmly without looking up. “He’ll stop.”
A few more minutes passed.
His cries started to crack.
Oswald finished scrolling through whatever he was reading, then locked his phone and looked up.
Oliver was sitting on the floor now, sniffling, face red, avoiding eye contact with everyone around him.
Oswald tilted his head slightly.
Oliver nodded weakly. “…Yes…”
Oswald stood up slowly, walking back over.
Oliver’s voice was small. Defeated.
“…That throwing a tantrum doesn’t get me anything… and… it just makes people stare at me…”
Oswald nodded once.
“What else?”
Oliver sniffed, still looking at the floor.
“…That when Papa says no… it means no… and… throwing a tantrum isn’t the right way to ask for things…”
Oswald extended his hand.
“Come on. We still have things to do.”
Oliver didn’t move at first.
He stayed there, staring at the floor, his little hands clutching his shirt.
Oliver’s voice trembled slightly.
“…Can you… carry me…? I don’t think I can handle the embarrassment…”
Oswald looked at him for a moment.
He bent down and picked Oliver up with ease.
Oliver immediately buried his face into Oswald’s shoulder, hiding from the world.
Oswald pressed a small kiss to the top of his head.
And just like that, they kept walking.
The candy store long forgotten.
