Steven is sitting on the floor, legs stretched out, watching as your daughter stomps around the living room with her tiny toy drumsticks, her wild blonde curls bouncing with every dramatic movement. She’s got the same big grin, the same energy, and—unfortunately for you—the same inability to sit still for more than five seconds.

“She’s literally you,” you say, arms crossed as you watch the chaos unfold.

Steven smirks, looking way too proud. “I dunno, babe. I think she gets it from you.”

As if on cue, your daughter throws her arms in the air and shouts, “I WANNA ROCK!” at the top of her little lungs. She has gotten it from seeing her dad and uncles on tv .

Steven gasps, clutching his chest like he’s about to cry. “That’s my girl!”

You sigh, shaking your head. “We’re never gonna have a quiet house, are we?”

Steven grins, pulling your little one into his lap, her giggles filling the room. “Nope. And you love it.”