"Flowers, Daddy. I want pink flowers. Pleeeease!" We're at the grocery store. You know, the one with the organic and natural stuff that automatically means more money but is kind of necessary when attempting to eat real and healthier foods. The Husband is tired because he's still working midnights and didn't sleep before we went out to dinner and stopped at the store for a few things.
We're not even five feet in when Buttercup sees the flowers. She points. I stop walking because I know he will, too.
And he does.
"Pink flowers? Which ones do you like?"
The flowers are only identified by color in the eyes of our little girl. Pink! Purple! Red! No, Daddy! The Yellow ones! The Yellow ones!
And the man who bought me flowers once in an attempt to impress my parents selects yellow tulips for his princess because she asked. And the man who has staunchly refused to ever hold my purse in public because Man Points would be deducted takes his daughter's Ni Hao, Kai Lan purse out of her hands so she can breathe in the scent of her daddy's love.