So.
Today was supposed to be a normal day.
Just your average, unassuming, semi-lethal 4-year-old showing up at a totally normal daycare for "social exposure," "peer interaction," and "learning to not intimidate the staff."
That last one was apparently my problem.
Not sure why.
I only said that Miss Claire's time-out corner was a "prison with no exit strategy."
---
Anyway.
I walked into daycare like I owned it.
Because technically, my parents do.
(Dad literally bought the building after someone tried to overcharge the juice subscription. He said, "If I pay for pulp, I get pulp.")
Miss Claire greeted me all fake-happy, like:
"Good morning, little stormcloud!"
I nodded gravely.
"There is no storm. Only calm before war."
(She blinked. I win.)
---
Then he walked in.
Damon.
Blonde. Loud. Wore superhero socks like he owned the playground.
And—plot twist—son of Mr. Viktor Salva.
You know… the guy who once tried to poison Dad at a gala using shrimp cocktail and failed because Mom stabbed him in the thigh with a fork under the table.
Good times.
Anyway, Damon walked up to me, smirked, and said:
"My daddy says your daddy's a criminal."
I sipped my chocolate milk.
Stared at him over the rim.
"My daddy says your daddy owes him two kneecaps and a helicopter."
Damon blinked.
I smiled.
Peacefully. Like a landmine.
---
It escalated fast.
He tried to push me.
I sidestepped and whispered, "You touch me again, you'll disappear like Luka."
He didn't know who Luka was.
But the fear?
Instant.
He backed up.
Sat down.
Tried to color quietly while glancing over his shoulder every five seconds.
Miss Claire said, "Oh, how sweet, they're getting along!"
I nodded.
Sweet as cyanide.
---
When Mom picked me up, she asked:
"Good day?"
"Yes. Made a friend cry."
She patted my head, proud.
When Dad heard about it, he paused mid-phone call and said:
"Good. Tell him we're collecting the helicopter next week."
---
And that's the story of how I became
King of Daycare.
Ruler of Crayons.
Master of Naptime.
Feared by juice-box smugglers and suspicious toddlers across the City.
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