Yellow.

Tutus, Football and Cookies.

Sometimes Pretty, Sometimes Rough, Still Pretty Though.

Harry presses the baby pink coloured tutu to his waist with a low groan along with a bright smile plastered on his face, because he has been itching for a day like this when he can actually have a daddy-daughter bonding session, especially when his little daughter is not that much of a girly girl.

It is so soft and pretty but Myra has clearly outgrown tutus and tea time in just eleven months.

The table is set for tea while Iman is busy baking some cookies to go along with the tea, and Harry cannot even conceal his excitement right now. Aneesa can be heard from the kitchen, squealing non-stop and attempting to create words being heard around her. It's been noticed that she is a little slow in the speech area, and the one time she said a word it was heavily drawled. The parents are not bothered with that little flaw in their angel.

Myra is sat cross legged with her hands folded on her chest, her facial expression is making it obvious that she is nowhere pleased with what her father has planned for the two of them and her old ballerina tutu skirt is now a bit too tight around her waist.

Harry tosses the tutu on the sofa and rakes his fingers through his hair as he makes his way to sit across his not so pleased daughter, but he cannot pick on her mood since she is not saying anything.

It is a lovely warm day, just a month away from Aneesa's first day and the ambiance is wonderful. His finger points at her and he points back at himself with a coo making her roll her eyes still not amused at his actions.

"Not speaking?" she asks and he nods slowly not having the words ready just yet.

"Well this is boring," she groans in frustration and slouches on the arranged pink plastic chair with her eyes focused on the ceiling.

He gives a small groan and scratches the back of his head thinking of how to make this not boring for her especially if she is missing football practice reluctantly, he pours a spot of tea into her tiny pink ceramic cup and gently pushes it towards her but she shakes her head not appreciating his gesture.

Harry then points at the cup and taps his mouth with a small smile but she maintains a straight face making her look like her mother.

"Uh.....tea please?" he offers in a muffled tone and she rolls her eyes quirking her lips to the side.

Myra is certainly not having any of this, she could be at practice with her peers doing what she loves but he is making her stay indoors and do really outgrown activities that she has absolutely no more passion whatsoever for.

"No, thank you." she answers, coldly.

"Okay...," Harry nods oblivious to her mood and presses his palms together.

"Oh....Oh....Oh H-Harry can do your hair!" he touches the tail of her braid and she slowly removes his hand with a frown plastered on her face.

"Daddy, I don't want to be here," she mumble and he parts his lips with a frown.

It is hard to process where exactly she does not want to be, in the house, living room or where exactly because he is confused due to her being unprecise about her needs.

"Here," he mumbles and nods again with a smile.

"What.....what....can we do?" Harrry asks with his tone heavy with hope, and she sighs getting more and more edgy.

"Nothing Papa, nothing please," she murmurs.

Harry immediately recoils hearing her answer.

He pats his knees feeling nervous all of a sudden and he knows something is certainly wrong from her side, he bites down his lip humming gently and takes his eyes around the room to distract himself.