The next day, Dorothy was getting ready for work when a knock came at the door. She narrowed her eyes, wondering who it could be, then went to open it.

Standing in front of her was a familiar little boy, about 4'1, wearing a pout on his face.

"Aunty, I feel bad for talking to you like that yesterday. I'm really sorry," Maxwell said softly.

"Aww, look at you," Dorothy cooed, resisting the urge to squeeze his cheeks and ruffle his blond hair. "I agree you shouldn't speak to ...