I strap a wriggly Mister into his high chair. He fusses as I stir his pureed green beans. I scoop a mushy spoonful and shovel it in to his baby bird-like mouth. Right then, he decides to perform his newest trick. He won’t do it for Daddy. He gets stage fright in front of Grandma. Suddenly, he can do it like a pro. He sticks out his little tongue and blows a big raspberry. Green beans spray across his shirt, his high chair, my shirt, and the floor. I cover my smile and try to scold him with a stern voice. He hears my tone, grins, and spits some more. Boy am I in trouble.
What is the tone of your writing?