He didn’t raise his voice.
Instead, his expression softened in a way that immediately changed the atmosphere.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Bruises can look scary, but they don’t make people die. Your brother is going to be okay.”
She looked up at him slowly, hope breaking through the fear in her eyes.
“Really?” she asked.
“Really,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “Sometimes brothers and sisters hurt each other by accident, especially when they’re upset. What matters is that you didn’t mean to hurt him and that you learn what to do next time.”
She sniffled, thinking about his words, then admitted quietly, “I was angry… he took my toy.”
Reynolds nodded, understanding. “That happens. But when we’re angry, we use our words instead of our hands. Do you think you can try that next time?”
She nodded quickly, as if holding onto that promise.
“I will,” she said.
