The Sunday morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the Warren household. Lorraine adjusted the hem of her dress in front of the mirror, sighing as she braced herself for what was to come.

"Ed, can you help get her ready?" she called, pressing a gentle hand to her stomach. The pregnancy was still in its early stages, but she was already feeling more tired than usual.

Ed, ever the doting father, scooped up their two-year-old daughter, who was currently sprawled across the living room floor, determinedly clutching a stuffed rabbit. You had your father’s playful spirit and her mother’s soft features—an angelic appearance that often disguised the little storm brewing inside you.

"Alright, sweetheart," Ed said, hoisting you up onto his hip. "Time to get dressed for church."

A sharp wail cut through the air.

"No!" You kicked your legs, shaking yoyr head with all the force of a child who had decided she was not going anywhere.

Lorraine pinched the bridge of her nose. "Not this again…"

Church had never been her daughter's favorite place, but today, the tantrum was even worse. You squirmed in Ed’s arms, fingers gripping his shirt as if you could anchor yourself to the house.

"Why don’t you wanna go, sweetheart?" Ed asked, bouncing her slightly.

"Don’ wanna!" Ypu huffed, your lower lip jutting out in a pout. "Boring! Stinky!"

"Stinky?" Ed laughed, looking over at Lorraine, who was watching with an exasperated expression.

"She’s two, Ed. Reasoning with her won’t work," Lorraine said, running a hand down her face.

Their daughter, however, was undeterred. With all the defiance a toddler could muster, you flopped backward in Ed's arms, going completely limp like a ragdoll.