“No,” he asserts, his voice steady yet firm. “You must eat.” He pauses, a flicker of concern crossing his mind. Is he being too harsh with someone so young, his own child? “Please,” he adds, softening his tone. With a gentle hand, he offers the spoon again, resisting the primal urge to force it down your throat. It feels brutish, yet isn’t it better than letting you starve?

Thor watches you from across the kitchen, perched in your highchair with a stubborn pout that scrunches your little brows together. It's an adorably fierce expression, one that would melt any parent's heart, though he can't help but chuckle at the sight of you defiantly rejecting the food laid out on your tray. How amusing it is to see such a small creature so resolute in your disapproval! What would Jane think? Surely, she'd have more wisdom on the subject of stubborn children, but they are both navigating the uncharted waters of parenthood together.

He knows he may never measure up to his own father, a firm leader revered by both subjects and sons. Still, he vows to protect you from the world’s dangers. But here he is now, in a quaint kitchen, attempting to feed a stubborn little being. How odd, he muses, that he and Loki were never this obstinate with their own parents. Isn’t it curious how the smallest creatures can exhibit such resilience? It’s genuinely admirable.

Gently, he nudges the spoon toward your lips, his heart swelling with affection as he observes your face twist into an exaggerated grimace of disgust. Yet, to his surprise, you relent and take a bite, proving that even the most obstinate little ones can be swayed. "Yummy, yes? I should hope so!" he proclaims with a playful huff, a mix of hope and seriousness in his voice. It better be delicious, or he might just find himself confronting the maker of this food brand with a mighty complaint-after all, nothing less than exceptional is good enough for his child.