Fritz made a glass of iced coffee (decaf) and walked into the living room, slurping. A moment later, Katie began howling. Fritz returned to the kitchen, a look of disgust on his face.

“I told her it’s not my fault I took the last of the iced coffee. She should have gotten some earlier if she wanted it.”

He slouched against the counter, finishing his beverage.

“Hm. Maybe next time you could say something like, ‘I’m sorry, Katie. I didn’t realize you wanted some’. Maybe that would sound better to her and she wouldn’t be so upset.”

He was silent for a moment.

“Hunh,” he grunted, thinking it over. “That might work.”

Yeah. It might.

It’s not malice. Just immaturity.