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Written
4th December 2015

"Daddy?"

He turned in time to see a little girl bounding for him. Her long hair tied into bunches streaming behind her. They weren't the only things trailing behind her. Both of her tiny red shoes were loose, laces flew around with her as she ran. He had to stop her before she stepped on them again. This girl spent more time lying on the floor than anything else.

Just in time he scooped her up, holding her with one arm while the spare hand reached for her laces. "No," the little girl snapped, tapping his knuckles to stop him.

"Why?" he asked, expecting the same style answer she always gave him.

"Don't like them," she said bluntly.

Well okay, he thought, the amount of time lying on the floor was second to his little girl's stubborn nature. They tended to go hand in hand. "Why not? They're pretty, they suit you," he tried to convince her.

"I don't care. I want white ones," the girl pouted, her arms folding together. He took the opportunity to try and tie the laces with one hand, which proved difficult. "No. Mummy won't change them," she whined.

Harry shook his head while smirking to himself. He and her mother had completely opposite parenting styles, and so they created this little terror which he still wouldn't trade for anything else in the universe. Her mummy was the firm one while he was raising her like his parents raised him. She would accuse him of spoiling her while worshiping the ground she fell on. The shoe laces incident would be a perfect example she'd use against him. Harry decided to keep this to himself, but in his mind the only solution would be to get her different shoes like she wanted. Tira wouldn't miss something like that.

"I'm more than just pretty," the girl said, her head dipped down, the pout growing.

"Oh I know that, munchkin," Harry smiled at her.

His little princess gazed up at him, her lavender eyes sparkling. Uhoh. She only ever used her innocent stare when she wanted something, and he already seemingly owed her new shoes. "Can I boss people around like you, daddy? I wanna sit in your chair."

Harry was suddenly struck with the memory of what happened the last time she was interested in something he did. He still didn't know how such a tiny thing could dent a clarinet so badly it sounded closer to a trombone. He should have learned his lesson after the kal-toh incident. How was he supposed to know that certain illegal moves caused a mini explosion? It took him weeks to recover all the pieces, which he was certain that his sweet daughter would keep hiding.

Tira had a point, he knew that. She was his only child, he was still learning the ropes, this little girl had a way of making him succumb to anything. His parents adored her, showering her with praise and presents. Tira was fighting a losing battle and the result was a girl who'd rather fall on her face than wear red shoes. There were days he'd try to find a middle ground, but the little girl was so stubborn to change, she never got any rewards for good behaviour and he'd fall for her doe eyed routine in no time.

Tom had warned him and it wasn't like he didn't see it for himself with Miral. Every parent he knew had similar issues. He remembered well how Duncan was when he was a baby and toddler. He only settled down slightly when his parents did too. Poor Triah was still trying to get her son to stop making a mess everywhere he went, thanks to his dad's completely absent style.

The little girl squirmed, hinting that she wanted to be down. He did so, hoping that he could finish with her laces while she waited for her answer. She shook her foot everytime he tried. It got him wondering why she cared what colour the shoes she wore were. She'd run around with a paper bag on if she was left alone. Given half the chance, she'd run around in only her underwear.

As if she sensed his thoughts, she began to pull her dress over her head. He tried to stop her, prompting whines. "No munchkin." She tried again while blowing a raspberry. "Mary, we're going out soon."

"Not in a dress I won't!" she huffed.

Harry stared at her blankly, bemused. "What?"

"Dresses are for show offs. I'm a smart girl," his daughter said, her head nodding.

Now he had an idea where this come from. "We're not going to the party until tomorrow."

"I'm not a doll. I want to wear trousers," Mary said.

Harry sighed then chuckled, "okay, okay. If you're so smart, why are you doing what the little girl last year said?"

It was rare for him to secure a victory, today was one of those days. Mary was speechless, her eyes darted around as she thought of an answer. Finally she shrugged meekly. "Can I have a cookie please?"

So predictable, change the subject, he kept to himself. At least she asked politely. It was progress.

TO BE CONTINUED

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