Amálie looked up at me with tears welling up in her big, blue eyes. "Papa, please don't go," she cried as I picked up my bag. Marta watched from the kitchen as I tried to explain to our 6 year old that I was going away for a little while but would return home soon. "I'll tell you what swonechko," I said crouching down so we were eye to eye, "when I come back, I will bring you a surprise." She shyly looked at the ground trying, and failing, to make her smile less noticeable. "Ok papa." she answered.