Hiding The CEO's Son
I muttered, holding up an Armored Arctic Combat edition.
Blaster, who was pushing a cart full of toys, shook his head. “Boss Sir, we’ve passed that aisle three times. You already got him Lego, three kinds of Hot Wheels, a Nerf gun, five books, two board games—ano pa bang kulang? A spaceship?”
I examined a dinosaur plushie. “This is soft. He might like this for sleeping.”
"Boss Sir...your son is already six years old,"
"Or this?" I picked up a blanket.
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