us drowned our waffles in syrup like you, there’d be a national shortage.”
I caught Elena cracking a grin. The movement lit up her face, even her humor unable to hide from her honest nature.
“Oh, ha ha,” Roman mocked. He tried to take the pitcher off Artyom again but my Obshchak dodged easily and poured some onto his wife’s plate.
A loud thump caught our attention. Babushka pulled herself up onto the table, causing cries of outrage. Her paw went straight into a plate of butter.
“Down, cat. This is the dining table,” Artyom warned, whereas Roksana tried a kinder approach, “Oh no, darling, your food is over there…”
“Don’t look at my syrup, Babushka,” Roman threatened.
Anton cheered at the sight of Babushka, clapping his little hands together. “Baba! Baba!”
“No, no Baba,” Dmitri said. “She eats somewhere else.”
“Baba!” Anton shouted again.
Danika was closest and went to grab the cat, but Babushka was smarter. She leapt out of the way, going straight over the plate of waffles.
Roman lunged out but Babushka knew him, too. She skidded across the table, taking down a glass of orange juice. It spilled over the table, causing Roksana to shout and leap back, now soaked.
Artyom took it as a personal attack, reaching out to grab Babushka. He caught her fur, but the cat moved too quickly for his hands.
I took a sip of my tea.
“A little help, Kostya,” Artyom hissed.
“If Babushka wants to eat at the table, she is more than welcome,” I laughed.
“Cats don’t eat at dining tables,” said Elena.
Artyom nodded in agreement.
When Babushka got near Tatiana, Tatiana reached out and caught the cat. Huge and furious in her hands, Babushka instantly began to struggle, claws out.
“Sorry, Babushka!” Tatiana tried.
Babushka’s tail hit the pot of syrup, sending it pouring across the table. Tatiana gasped as Danika cried out, allowing Babushka to slip out of her arms.
Instead of hanging around to admire the damage she had done, the cat leapt to the ground and darted out of the room.
I could’ve sworn she looked proud.
“The syrup,” Danika moaned. “Roman, you have to share now.”
“I’m doing no such thing.” He licked the pool of syrup on his plate, earning him exclaims of disgust. “See? I licked it. It’s mine.”
Danika took her spoon to his plate, scooped up some syrup and stuck it directly in her mouth. She gave him a ha ha look and sat back down in her seat, licking the spoon clean. “I’m not scared of your cooties, Roman,” she threatened. “Pass around the syrup.”
“I don’t want it if he’s licked it,” Tatiana said.
Dmitri nodded. “God knows where that tongue’s been.”
Tatiana pressed hands to her son’s ears, giving her husband a warning look. He grinned—even Dmitri’s shows of humor were frosty and cutting—and mouthed an apology to his wife. Anton peered up at his mother, confused.
“Did Daddy say a bad word?” he asked.
“He did, my boy,” Tatiana fussed. “He has to say sorry now.”
Dmitri shot her a look but couldn’t help the smile that grew up his face. “My sincerest apologies.”
She smiled. “Mmm.”
Roman took a bite of his syrup-soaked waffle and made a show of enjoying it.
“There is some honey in the pantry,” Roksana said, rising to her feet.
“Roman can get it,” Artyom said gruffly.
Roman sighed but did as he was told.
As soon as he left, Danika grabbed his plate and held it out to us. “Anyone want any syrup?”
Everybody shook their heads.
“Suit yourselves.” She poured some onto her plate before returning Roman’s breakfast to his seat.
Roman returned with the honey and knew immediately. “Really, Dani? Next time, I’m spitting in it.”
“Adds nutrients,” she reasoned. “Doesn’t it, Elena?”
Elena snorted. She had opted not to have any of Roman’s saliva-covered syrup. “No. But it might make you sick.”
“Why aren’t you on my team?” Danika whined, but her eyes were bright with humor. “If you’re on Roman’s team now, I’m going to shoot you.” She finished her threat off by taking a bite of a strawberry tart.
“Ugh, if I ever agree with Roman, I’ll shoot myself.”
Roman bared his teeth at Elena. She returned the gesture.
Artyom passed Elena the honey. “For agreeing cats don’t eat at dining tables,” he said at her questioning look.
Roksana glanced between the two. Not with jealousy, but with curiosity. I found myself doing the same thing.
Artyom wasn’t a huge fan of Elena—in fact, he saw her as a threat to his family and Pakhan. Him offering her some honey wasn’t quite acceptance into his good graces, but it wasn’t nothing.