“Perfect.” You say to your 4 year-old daughter, Peyton.
“Pewfect.” She repeats. “Good, now spell it.” You smile at her.
“M-i f-a-m-i-l-i-a,” Prince says, spelling out, ‘my family’ in spanish, as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind.
“Daddy dats family!” She giggles and looks at him. Her hair bounced on her head, favoring Prince’s curly fro with a green bow pushing it back enough for her to see.
“Well duh, Pey,” He says, bending down, kissing her head. “My family,” He pauses to look between the two of you.”Is perfect,” he finished, rubbing you protruding belly with a wide grin stretching across his face.
