"come on, little monkey, don't run from the sunscreen." luna says filling your whole, whole face with sun cream.

you whine trying to get away but obviously, fail. "mommy! no more!"

victoria walks from the beach bar, with two margaritas and walking to your spot. "babe, you're making her look like a mime."

it was winter in italy, but as always, you escaped from that to the sint maarten island with both your moms, they always take you to places when they're free from their jobs as dj and model... you feel like it's the best and funniest thing ever– they bring their friends along and you get to be the cute little girl around mid twenty people, and get spoiled as hell.

"i am not!" luna defends herself as she grabs her margarita.

"can me have someeee?" you bat your eyes at your mama, victoria laughs and shakes her head. "but whyyy."