Anaïs watched them.
She saw the panic in Bastian's eyes. He was terrified of disappointing a five-year-old.
Five years ago, Bastian would have just thrown money at the problem and walked away.
Today, he looked ready to cry over a plastic arm.
She sighed.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a small multi-tool she always carried for Sacha's toys.
"Move," she said to Bastian.
Bastian slid his chair over.
Anaïs took the robot. She popped the arm back into the socket, tightened the screw with the proper tool, and handed it back to Sacha.
"There," she said. "Fixed."
Sacha hugged the robot.
"Thank you, Mommy! You're the best daddy!"
He glared at Bastian, hugging the robot tighter.
"You owe me twenty dollars. My robot was scared."
Bastian slumped in his chair. He looked defeated.
"I really am useless at this," he muttered.
Anaïs looked at him. She took a sip of her tea.
"You tried to fix it with a butter knife," she said flatly. "That was stupid."
