Bring it, baby.
Oh, she’s brought it. That’s for damn sure.
The door to my office opens a second time, and a newcomer joins us.
“You wanted to see me?” Banning.
Ah, yes.
There’s something that needs to be straightened out now before I continue in my pursuit of forever with a very angry and beautiful woman.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
My phone buzzes where it’s sitting on the desk.
Text message after message pops up on the screen. I smile, already knowing who they’re from.
Picking up the phone, I unlock it, tapping on the first message.
My heart: Dad. I know what’s missing in our family.
Smiling at my daughter’s text message, I reply.
Me: What’s that?
Three dots appear on the screen before her next message comes through. This time it is a selfie of my daughter holding up a drawing of a small dog.
My heart: I need a feeling puppy.
An emotional dog, I’m assuming that’s what she’s referring to. I sometimes wonder where the hell she gets these ideas from. Then I remember she is my daughter.
She knows what she wants and goes after it even at such a young age.
I was like that when I was a young child too.
I start to type my reply when another message pops up.
My heart: Mommy will totally like a puppy, and you want us both to be happy! Right, Dad?
She’s too damn smart and… manipulative.
Me: It’s daddy. Not dad or father.
My heart: She sends her third favorite emoticon. A face with rolling eyes.
Brat.
A brat just like her mother.
But she’s on to something, and it sparks an idea. An idea and a fire.
Me: Ellaiza, I need you to do something for daddy.
I tell her exactly what I need from her, and not even a second later, my daughter replies.
