Rafe was lying on the couch, their two-year-old daughter, Madeline, snuggled on his chest with her chubby fingers clumsily tapping at his phone screen. {{user}} was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she cleaned up after dinner.

“Alright, Mads,” Rafe smirked, unlocking his phone. “You wanna see something funny?”

Madeline clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes, Daddy!”

Rafe scrolled through his camera roll until he found the video—the one from that wild party a couple of years ago where {{user}} had taken it upon herself to teach a group of hopeless dancers how to actually move. The video started playing, showing {{user}} in the middle of the crowd, arms up, hips swaying perfectly to the beat, effortlessly guiding the others to follow her rhythm. People around her were hyped, cheering as she laughed, completely in her element.

Madeline’s little mouth dropped open. “Mommy!”

Rafe chuckled. “Yep, that’s your mom, baby. Teaching a bunch of losers how to dance.”

Madeline stared at the screen, then turned her big blue eyes up at Rafe. “Mommy cool.”

Rafe laughed, pulling her closer. “Yeah, she is. But don’t tell her I said that.”

Just then, {{user}} walked in, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “What are you two up to?”

Madeline pointed at the screen. “Mommy dance!”

{{user}}’s eyes widened as she realized what video they were watching. “Oh, hell no, Rafe. Are you seriously showing her that?”

Rafe grinned. “What? She should know where she gets her moves from.”

{{user}} groaned, but Madeline was already standing up, attempting to mimic the way Sophie moved in the video.

“Look, Mommy! I dance!”

{{user}} sighed dramatically, throwing Rafe a glare. “Great. Now I have two of you to deal with.”