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Description

      “Mikey, it’s my turn!” Raphael narrowed his eyes and attempted to yank the yellow dump truck away from the smaller, freckled turtle.
      “No Waphie! It’s my tuwn wiff the dump twuck! You just had it!” Michelangelo pouted, stomping his right foot and pulling the truck back towards his plastron.
      “Let go, Mikey!” Raphael grunted and slapped Michelangelo’s arm painfully.
      The younger turtle released the toy, letting his arms drop to his sides as tears welled up in his sky blue eyes. Michelangelo threw his head back and wailed loudly. Raphael ignored the crying while he sat on the ground and began motoring the truck around his feet as their father came rushing over to see what was wrong.
      Master Splinter scooped up his youngest son and gently shushed his crying, rubbing soothing circles on the little turtle’s shell. Michelangelo gasped several times to control his hysterics before he could choke out a coherent explanation.
      “W-Waphie h-h-hit me, but it w-was my tuwn wiff the twuck.”
      “I’m sorry, my son. Raphael shouldn’t hit you,” Master Splinter brushed away the tears and hugged his turtle tot close before setting him back on the ground and confronting Raphael.
      Raphael gripped the truck tightly and looked down at the floor, refusing to meet his father’s disappointed gaze. Master Splinter bent over and pried the toy out of his little hands before handing it over to Michelangelo, who was still sniffling. Master Splinter took Raphael’s hand and marched him away from his brothers and towards the armchair where he’d previously been reading.
      “Raphael we have been through this time and again. You are not to hit your brothers!” Master Splinter reprimanded as they marched.
      “But it was my turn!” Raphael spoke angrily to the floor.
      “Even if it was your turn, you should never hurt your younger brother.”
      Master Splinter sat down in his armchair and motioned for Raphael to sit on the floor at his feet. Reluctantly, the red banded turtle sat down, huffing exasperatedly as he did so. With a frustrated exhale, the ninja master rubbed his temples and glanced at the clock so he’d know when to end the time-out.
      At times it seemed to Master Splinter that Raphael was naughty on purpose since he often found himself saving his two younger sons from being clobbered by him, no matter how many times they discussed how wrong hitting was. The time-outs he was put on hardly fazed the young mutant anymore since he’d been disciplined that way so many times.
      It was a mystery to Master Splinter why Raphael found himself in trouble more often than his brothers, not that the other turtles didn’t get their share of time-outs. He wasn’t sure how else to punish three-year-olds besides forcing them to sit out and watch their brothers continue playing. His hotheaded son didn’t usually care when he was in trouble so the discipline seemed ineffective.
      Master Splinter decided not to dwell on the problem further and relaxed into his armchair, returning his attention to the Japanese novel, The Setting Sun by Osamu Dazai, that he’d been reading before all of the commotion started. At his feet, Raphael fidgeted with the carpet shag and pouted.
      “Can I sit with you?” Raphael asked, hopefully, finally looking up at his father.
      Master Splinter shook his head, “No Raphael, you don’t get to sit with me when you’re on a time-out.”
      Raphael’s hopeful expression fell and he looked back down at the ground. Master Splinter frowned; he didn’t like refusing his sons when they wanted to be with him, but he couldn’t reward them when they were naughty. The seconds ticked by slowly and Master Splinter found himself struggling to concentrate on his book. Sighing heavily, he looked up at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It was time for Raphael’s time-out to be done.
      Master Splinter was about to tell him that he was free to go play with his brothers, after he apologized to Michelangelo, when he noticed a change in his son’s demeanor. Instead of the hard, unemotional mask the green eyed mutant usually wore during his punishments, there was genuine sadness.
      “Raphael?” Master Splinter asked, carefully.
      Raphael sniffled and tore his eyes away from Leonardo, who was coloring, and Michelangelo and Donatello, who were playing with the yellow dump truck, to look up at his father with watering eyes. Master Splinter eye ridges knitted in concern and he set his book aside to pick up the sad little turtle before placing him on his knee and waiting for an explanation.
      “Do you still love me when I’m bad?” Raphael whispered as his lower lip trembled slightly.
      His previously furrowed brow raised in surprise from hearing the question and his ears twitched alert. Master Splinter studied his son’s hunched shoulders and watched as Raphael hung his head, wiping a small hand across his beak. Raphael never cried during his time-outs. Leonardo was more likely to cry during a punishment.
      “Raphael, I love you no matter what. I’m upset when you fight with your brothers, but that doesn’t mean I stop loving you,” Master Splinter explained, lifting Raphael’s chin with one of his long fingers, forcing the smaller mutant to look at him, “Daddies don’t just love their sons sometimes. Daddies love their sons all the time - even when their sons get into trouble.”
      Raphael nodded and confessed, “I didn’t mean to hit Mikey. I was just mad because he wouldn’t share.”
      Master Splinter wiped the stray tear off his son's cheek and replied, “I know that you know it’s not nice to hurt your brothers. Hitting is not okay and you still need to say you’re sorry to Michelangelo.”
      “Okay, I will. I love you daddy,” Raphael hugged him and then asked, eagerly, “Is my time-out over now?”
      Master Splinter squeezed him back and rubbed his shell affectionately, “Yes, my son. You may go play now.”
      Raphael scrambled off of his father’s lap and ran towards his younger brothers who were now racing a police car and the dump truck with Leonardo’s Han Solo figurine in the dumping bed. He stopped in front of Michelangelo, making the freckled turtle halt and look up at him.
      Raphael cleared his throat and twisted his hands before shyly apologizing, “I’m sorry for hitting you, Mikey.”
      Michelangelo took his hands off the truck and straightened himself so he was slightly taller, even though he was still kneeling. He smiled at his older brother and flung his arms open for a hug, “It’s okay Waphie. We can pway with the dump twuck togever. You can have a tuwn and I’ll get the hewicopter.”
      Raphael grinned and squatted down to hug his youngest brother before accepting the truck and watching Michelangelo run off to find the helicopter. Master Splinter smiled warmly at his sons and picked his book back up. After leafing through the pages to find where he’d left off, he settled in to enjoy the rest of the afternoon reading and listening to his turtle tots play. Maybe today they’d allow him to get past the first chapter.

Description

      “Mikey, it’s my turn!” Raphael narrowed his eyes and attempted to yank the yellow dump truck away from the smaller, freckled turtle.
      “No Waphie! It’s my tuwn wiff the dump twuck! You just had it!” Michelangelo pouted, stomping his right foot and pulling the truck back towards his plastron.
      “Let go, Mikey!” Raphael grunted and slapped Michelangelo’s arm painfully.
      The younger turtle released the toy, letting his arms drop to his sides as tears welled up in his sky blue eyes. Michelangelo threw his head back and wailed loudly. Raphael ignored the crying while he sat on the ground and began motoring the truck around his feet as their father came rushing over to see what was wrong.
      Master Splinter scooped up his youngest son and gently shushed his crying, rubbing soothing circles on the little turtle’s shell. Michelangelo gasped several times to control his hysterics before he could choke out a coherent explanation.
      “W-Waphie h-h-hit me, but it w-was my tuwn wiff the twuck.”
      “I’m sorry, my son. Raphael shouldn’t hit you,” Master Splinter brushed away the tears and hugged his turtle tot close before setting him back on the ground and confronting Raphael.
      Raphael gripped the truck tightly and looked down at the floor, refusing to meet his father’s disappointed gaze. Master Splinter bent over and pried the toy out of his little hands before handing it over to Michelangelo, who was still sniffling. Master Splinter took Raphael’s hand and marched him away from his brothers and towards the armchair where he’d previously been reading.
      “Raphael we have been through this time and again. You are not to hit your brothers!” Master Splinter reprimanded as they marched.
      “But it was my turn!” Raphael spoke angrily to the floor.
      “Even if it was your turn, you should never hurt your younger brother.”
      Master Splinter sat down in his armchair and motioned for Raphael to sit on the floor at his feet. Reluctantly, the red banded turtle sat down, huffing exasperatedly as he did so. With a frustrated exhale, the ninja master rubbed his temples and glanced at the clock so he’d know when to end the time-out.
      At times it seemed to Master Splinter that Raphael was naughty on purpose since he often found himself saving his two younger sons from being clobbered by him, no matter how many times they discussed how wrong hitting was. The time-outs he was put on hardly fazed the young mutant anymore since he’d been disciplined that way so many times.
      It was a mystery to Master Splinter why Raphael found himself in trouble more often than his brothers, not that the other turtles didn’t get their share of time-outs. He wasn’t sure how else to punish three-year-olds besides forcing them to sit out and watch their brothers continue playing. His hotheaded son didn’t usually care when he was in trouble so the discipline seemed ineffective.
      Master Splinter decided not to dwell on the problem further and relaxed into his armchair, returning his attention to the Japanese novel, The Setting Sun by Osamu Dazai, that he’d been reading before all of the commotion started. At his feet, Raphael fidgeted with the carpet shag and pouted.
      “Can I sit with you?” Raphael asked, hopefully, finally looking up at his father.
      Master Splinter shook his head, “No Raphael, you don’t get to sit with me when you’re on a time-out.”
      Raphael’s hopeful expression fell and he looked back down at the ground. Master Splinter frowned; he didn’t like refusing his sons when they wanted to be with him, but he couldn’t reward them when they were naughty. The seconds ticked by slowly and Master Splinter found himself struggling to concentrate on his book. Sighing heavily, he looked up at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It was time for Raphael’s time-out to be done.
      Master Splinter was about to tell him that he was free to go play with his brothers, after he apologized to Michelangelo, when he noticed a change in his son’s demeanor. Instead of the hard, unemotional mask the green eyed mutant usually wore during his punishments, there was genuine sadness.
      “Raphael?” Master Splinter asked, carefully.
      Raphael sniffled and tore his eyes away from Leonardo, who was coloring, and Michelangelo and Donatello, who were playing with the yellow dump truck, to look up at his father with watering eyes. Master Splinter eye ridges knitted in concern and he set his book aside to pick up the sad little turtle before placing him on his knee and waiting for an explanation.
      “Do you still love me when I’m bad?” Raphael whispered as his lower lip trembled slightly.
      His previously furrowed brow raised in surprise from hearing the question and his ears twitched alert. Master Splinter studied his son’s hunched shoulders and watched as Raphael hung his head, wiping a small hand across his beak. Raphael never cried during his time-outs. Leonardo was more likely to cry during a punishment.
      “Raphael, I love you no matter what. I’m upset when you fight with your brothers, but that doesn’t mean I stop loving you,” Master Splinter explained, lifting Raphael’s chin with one of his long fingers, forcing the smaller mutant to look at him, “Daddies don’t just love their sons sometimes. Daddies love their sons all the time - even when their sons get into trouble.”
      Raphael nodded and confessed, “I didn’t mean to hit Mikey. I was just mad because he wouldn’t share.”
      Master Splinter wiped the stray tear off his son's cheek and replied, “I know that you know it’s not nice to hurt your brothers. Hitting is not okay and you still need to say you’re sorry to Michelangelo.”
      “Okay, I will. I love you daddy,” Raphael hugged him and then asked, eagerly, “Is my time-out over now?”
      Master Splinter squeezed him back and rubbed his shell affectionately, “Yes, my son. You may go play now.”
      Raphael scrambled off of his father’s lap and ran towards his younger brothers who were now racing a police car and the dump truck with Leonardo’s Han Solo figurine in the dumping bed. He stopped in front of Michelangelo, making the freckled turtle halt and look up at him.
      Raphael cleared his throat and twisted his hands before shyly apologizing, “I’m sorry for hitting you, Mikey.”
      Michelangelo took his hands off the truck and straightened himself so he was slightly taller, even though he was still kneeling. He smiled at his older brother and flung his arms open for a hug, “It’s okay Waphie. We can pway with the dump twuck togever. You can have a tuwn and I’ll get the hewicopter.”
      Raphael grinned and squatted down to hug his youngest brother before accepting the truck and watching Michelangelo run off to find the helicopter. Master Splinter smiled warmly at his sons and picked his book back up. After leafing through the pages to find where he’d left off, he settled in to enjoy the rest of the afternoon reading and listening to his turtle tots play. Maybe today they’d allow him to get past the first chapter.