Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance novel Chapter 1674

“What cup?” Andre looked puzzled, glancing over at the water dispenser in the living room. Where was his cup?

Henry was the kind of kid who actually listened to reason—like when his mom gently took his little hand and told him not to block the garden sprinkler, or that the flowers and trees would get thirsty and wilt without water. He took it to heart.

So, Henry decided to water the trees himself.

At first, he tried carrying water with his tiny hands, but those chubby little fingers couldn’t hold much at all—yet he still trotted over to his favorite ginkgo tree and tried to give it a drink.

Henry was no dummy. He quickly figured out this method was hopeless. So, dripping wet, he scampered back inside, hauled over his little stool, climbed up to the water dispenser, and made off with his dad’s cup—off on a mission.

Mia came back into the room, holding a fresh shirt for Henry. “Henry, come change your clothes.”

She walked over to the window just in time to see Henry, out in the rain, clutching Andre’s cup. He filled it halfway at the outdoor faucet, then dashed back to pour it over his tree’s roots.

“He went back and forth like that so many times,” Mia said, shaking her head. “I was worried he’d drown the poor tree! So I told him, ‘If the little tree drinks too much water, it’ll get sick. It’s had enough—no more watering, okay?’ But then your son—who knows what goes through his head—runs back, grabs your cup again, and starts digging around in the dirt.”

Henry’s logic was simple: if Mom said the tree had too much water, he’d just scoop the extra back out. Of course, most of it had already soaked in, so he ended up squatting there, digging and pawing at the muddy earth.

By the end of it, he was a total mess—mud from head to toe. Mia picked him up by the armpits, carried her mud-caked boy straight to the bathroom, and gave him a thorough scrub before changing him into clean clothes.

Now Andre’s cup—caked in dirt—was sitting forgotten on the bathroom sink.

Andre glanced over at his son, who was studiously avoiding eye contact and quietly slurping his cold noodles.

Mia shook her head. “No way. It’s too spicy—you’ll cry.”

Andre had made sure to order the noodles with the chili on the side, knowing their little snack thief too well. He’d given Henry his share before Mia spiced up her own bowl.

Andre got up. “Eat your own. I’ll take him out back.”

A few minutes later, Henry was being led—very reluctantly—by his dad into the yard to inspect his day’s “work.”

That night, Andre spotted his water cup again, still muddy and sitting on the bathroom sink. He consoled himself, “Well, at least he didn’t manage to break it.”