"What did you say this one was again?"

"A macaroon, daddy."

"Ah." Burt pops the tiny treat into his mouth. "My compliments to the chef."

Kurt giggles.

"You're holding the cup wrong," Kurt picks up his own teacup to demonstrate, lifting his pinky as he pretends to sip at imaginary tea.

"So I see." Burt smiles at how natural the miniature cup looks in Kurt's tiny hands; and how boorish he must look in comparison, flannel and work boots a shocking contrast to the soft pastel tablecloth and colorful pastries. He makes a show of lifting his pinky and slurps loudly, earning a shocked laugh from his son.

"No, daddy!" He has a smile on his face when he flicks his bangs from his face, making Burt's chest clench with adoration.

Suddenly, Kurt is on his feet, grasping at the yellow teapot with both hands and tilting it into his cup. "More tea?" He asks, holding the teapot up when he's finished.

"Please." Burt grins and holds out his cup, allowing Kurt to lean across the table and pour the imaginary tea into the cup. "Don't spill it."

"I know what I'm doing," Kurt says with a surprising amount of determination for someone so young. Burt can't help the laugh that he makes.

"That you do, kid."